I'm Never Going to Win a Costume Contest

I've never been a big fan of Halloween.  I can remember a couple of Big Deal costumes that I got to wear as a kid.  I was Superman once.  That was a big deal.  My recollection is that the bright blue unitard gave me the courage I needed to finally defeat my giant plastic Godzilla toy in a fight to the death.  I was Sherlock Holmes.  At least I think I was supposed to be Sherlock Holmes.  Looking back on the photos I come off as some kind of a snooty fourth grade literary critic.  "I found Where the Red Fern Grows to be rather banal."   Based on recently uncovered photographic evidence, one year my mother dressed me up as a Flamboyantly Gay Pirate.  I honestly can't say if this was for Halloween or just a regular Thursday as there are no Halloween decorations visible in the photo just one Completely Fabulous Seven-Year-Old!  (Exclamation point added for flamboyancy.)

Perhaps it was those unintentionally hysterical costumes that caused me to lose my interest in Halloween or the fact that I lived in a small town with no more then a handful of homes in a convenient walking distance so every Halloween felt a little like the Bataan Death March if you wanted to fill your candy bag.  Whatever the reason, Halloween falls just below President's Day on my list of favorite holidays.  This feeling may change when kids enter the picture but until that time - No, I'm not getting dressed up.  No, I'm not excited for the party and no, I don't think your costume is clever. 

There is one small caveat to my dislike of Halloween.  I, like every other Red Blooded, God Fearing, American Male, have a great appreciation for this relatively new Halloween tradition that causes women to only choose trampy stripper outfits for costumes.  Since it's only been a decade or so that I've lived in a warm weather climate I can't tell you exactly how long my favorite Halloween tradition has gone on.  I had not encountered it until I moved to a part of the country where you could consistently go outside without a heavy winter coat past September.  It could be that this beautiful tradition has been going on for decades.  My guess is it probably started around the time Britney Spears became popular.  I'm not sure how the first archaeologists felt when they came upon Machu Picchu but it must have been close to the giddiness that I felt when I first glimpsed an army of women dressed in various slutty white collar occupational outfits (nurse, librarian, exotic dancer) marching toward the annual West Hollywood parade.  I know what some of you veteran Angelenos are thinking - those weren't women.  Which brings us to my second favorite Halloween tradition.  There is no better day than Halloween to play the always fun and competitive game, That's A Man, Baby!

Paying The Cost To Be The Boss

There was a time in my life when I could whip it on with the best of them.  From my mid-twenties, shortly after my divorce, to my early thirties I put up borderline Hall of Fame numbers in consumption.  With the help of The Ladies Man, Trotsky Goldblum, SugarDust, The Boy (similar to The Gimp only without the leather), The Colonel, and a host of other Drunken Stumble Bums I tore through the early to mid-two-thousands with nothing but a wake of bar bills and blurry photographs (and memories) to account for the wasted time.  Good times.  These were good times. 

Until about the age of thirty-two I truly did not know what everyone was talking about when they complained about bad hangovers.  Sure, I had a little bit of a headache and it felt like I needed to shave some hair off my tongue but this was not enough to keep me from another night of good times.  A large glass of V8 juice, some bacon and eggs and I was back in business.  Then I hit The Wall.  Suddenly it only took a couple of beers and a slightly irresponsible bedtime for me to wake up feeling like I'd gone all night.  I was struck down in my imbibing prime.  Those Hall of Fame numbers now started to look like they may have been artificially inflated by outside substances.  My name was mentioned amongst the likes of Ralph Palmeiro, distant, drunken cousin to Rafael Palmeiro, who reportedly kept the party going through less then legitimate means.  I was clean, I swear.  I just peaked too early.  Much like Don Mattingly, the incredible numbers I put up early on dwindled significantly as injuries took their toll and I didn't have the legs to extend my barroom career.

So about five or six years ago I started to drastically curb my late nights and early mornings.  I still had my moments but by in large I was on the road to retirement.  Now the occasional old-timers day is all I get to re-live the glory days.  Only Trotsky Goldblum is still out there putting up HOF numbers on a nightly basis.  Not only is he a first ballot Hall of Famer but he's quite possibly the greatest that ever picked up a glass.  Certainly, the greatest that I've ever seen. 

On the plus side, since my early retirement I almost never wake up not knowing where I am.  I hardly ever call in sick to work (this may be as a result of not having a regular job but let's not knit pick).  I always remember what I did the night before and I'm rarely ashamed of it.  At least that was the case until August.  Now, I feel perpetually hungover.  Only I don't get the fun fuzzy memories of the night before.  I've got the familiar feeling of film on my mouth every morning but I didn't get to go to bed with the sweet taste of liquor on my lips.  I am getting all of the penance but none of the pleasure.  Perhaps this is payback from all those years when I was inexplicably immune to hangovers and scoffed at those journeymen that couldn't put up big numbers on a nightly basis.

Once I'm through with the chemo and radiation I'm debating an attempt at a comeback.  Not a full season, mind you.  More of a barnstorming tour like the old days.  Just to see if I can still put up the big numbers, if only for a short time, before slipping into retirement for good.  It could coincide with my Cross-Country Cancer Road Trip back home.  I may even sell tickets. 

Friday Football Picks

I was saddened to hear that Bill Cowher has thrown his hat into the Miami Dolphins coaching ring now that they appear to be the major front runner in the Andrew Luck sweepstakes.  I've always hated the Dolphins.  They never shut up about that damn perfect season.  Give it a rest already.  It doesn't make you one of the best teams ever.  It makes you a sidenote.  A brief conversation at a bar.  "Should the 72 Dolphins be mentioned among the all-time great teams?"  Everyone shouts -No!  Also, they took Marino (a Pittsburgh guy) after the Steelers screwed up and passed on him because of some bogus cocaine rumors.  Which some say the Dolphins floated.  We could have gone from Terry Bradshaw to Dan Marino and instead we got Mark Malone, David Woodley, Scott Campbell, Bubby Brister, Todd Blackledge, Steve Bono (Rich Gannon's long lost talentless twin), Neil O'Donnell, Jim Miller, Mike Tomzack (I have no memory of this, I must have blocked it out due to the trauma of seeing Mike Tomzack in a Steelers uniform) and Kordell Stewart all during the 17 Hall of Fame seasons Marino put in as a Dolphin.  We would have won a couple of titles with our defense and running game during that time.  It still pisses me off.  So, needless to say, I don't want Bill Cowher anywhere near the Dolphins.  Screw that team, their idiot hip-hop owners and that tacky, tasteless, town. 

Now that I got that off my chest, here are my picks.

Indy +10 over TENNESSE - I'm going with Dutch Boy Paints one last time and hoping that the Colts players have at .least a sliver of professional pride left to keep this game close.

New Orleans -13.5 over ST. LOUIS - The Saints are good, the Rams are terrible.  No idea if Sam Bradford is going to play or not and I don't think it matters.

NY GIANTS -9 over Miami - I heard it reported this week that Sparano told a ref last week "Gimme a break, the guys gonna take my job."  You've got to love that, Dolphins Fans!  I'm sure that instilled the players with confidence.  Confidence that they can do anything they want without worrying that their impotent coach will bench them.

Minny +3.5 over CAROLINA - I loved what I saw from Christian Ponder.  Their season is just getting started.  Watch them go at least 5-4 maybe even 6-3 over the rest of the season.  Ponder is good enough to keep the defense honest so they can run Peterson, the same formula they used two years ago, before Bret Favre lost his mind and dropped his pants.

BALTIMORE -12.5 over Arizona - One of the worst road teams in the history of the NFL, traveling all the way across the country to play a Ravens team that looked like a steaming turd on National TV?  I wish I had some actual cash to tease this game with San Fran and New Orleans. 

Jacksonville +10.5 over HOUSTON - Don't know why I'm making this pick other than it seems like a lot of points for a divisional rivalry game not involving Dutch Boy Paints.  Plus I think that if Jacksonville could handle the Ravens receivers they shouldn't have any trouble with Houston's WR's sans Andre Johnson.

BUFFALO -5 over Washington - Gotta love the NFL when the Bills are relevant again! 

Detroit -2.5 over DENVER - I may want to change this pick Sunday morning if it looks like Stafford is out but right now I've got to go with Detroit using Tim Tebow's helmet as a spring board to bounce back from a two game skid.  Is there anyway anyone could convince Tebow to change positions?  I think he'd make an amazing H-Back/Tight End.  He's super athletic, tough as nails and you could switch things up now and then with him taking a snap or getting a pitch in the backfield for a possible pass but there is absolutely no way that he makes it as a legitimate QB in the NFL.  He's Kordell Stewart Part Deux. 

New England -2.5 over PITTSBURGH - I hate how the Patriots own the Steelers and have thanked God each year that the Pats blow it in the opening round of the playoffs so the Steelers don't have to face them.  I'm worried that this game is going to be very very ugly.

SAN FRAN -7.5 over Cleveland - I can't believe that Alex Smith is now a winning quarterback in the NFL.  It's a testament to Jim Harbaugh's coaching ability.  Mix in the Niners D and the fact that Cleveland is clearly atrocious and this game looks to be a blow-out.

SEATTLE +3 over Cincy - Can't believe I'm picking Pete Carroll and Tavarias Jackson.  I feel like I'm going to regret this pick.  Cincy can't win on the road in Seattle, can they?  Man, I hope not.

Dallas +3.5 over PHILLY - If Dallas' D can give Tom Brady trouble what chance does Mike Vick have?

KANSAS CITY +4 over San Diego - Norv Turner.  Nuff said.

Last week - 9-3-1

College Picks

NEBRASKA -4 over Michigan State
FLORIDA +3 over Georgia
OKLAHOMA STATE -14 over Baylor
Wisconson -7 over OHIO STATE

Last week - 2-1

Deer Camp

I am increasingly convinced that my Lovely Girlfriend is horrified by the thought of me eventually buying a rustic camp deep in the woods of Maine.  Since returning on Sunday from a buddy's (we'll call him The Mechanic like the awesome Charles Bronson movie by the same name only he's not a hitman he's a real mechanic and I'm not feeling terribly clever today) camp in the woods of Western Maine I have been looking online for my own little piece of remote, no plumbing or electric, heaven.  If pressed I think my Lovely Girlfriend would admit that at least a small part of her is somewhat turned on by a chance to live out a festering Paul Bunyan fantasy (would she be Babe the Blue Ox?  I don't know) but by in large she's terrified I'll pull a Montana Freemen and never want to return to civilization.

Trucks, woods, camp, what else do you need?

Who can blame me?  What kind of a man doesn't feel the need to throw on a wool hunting shirt, sling an axe over his shoulder and trudge out into the wilderness now and then?  To build a campfire?  To cook all of his meals from a cast-iron skillet that will outlive him if properly oiled?  To write vaguely threatening letters to your government in which you declare your independence and claim that you no longer need to pay taxes or register your car?  Maybe that last one is going a little too far but really, put on a Pendleton shirt and tell me it doesn't make you want to track and kill Bambi.  I dare you. 

Bambi's Mom.  Great loin cut.

You know the kind of man that wore a Pendleton?  Gregory Peck.  You know who won't?  Paul Walker, he claims his skin's too sensitive.  Clark Gable had a closet full of them.  Jesse Eisenberg won't touch them, he prefers gor-tex.  It's entirely possible Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster came out of their respective mothers wombs wearing Pendletons.  Justin Timberlake and Ryan Phillipe once tried to share a fleece blanket during a movie night at Ashton Kutchers house but they each complained that the other was hogging the covers.  They had to be separated before the three could re-start their Blu-ray Director's Cut of Ice Castles. 

For cookin' and heatin'

I know that last paragraph was a side trip into the absurd but my point is the woods is where a real man belongs.  Those two days spent out at The Mechanic's hunting camp was as close as I have come since I was hospitalized in September to a real respite in my cancer odyssey.  I felt like a man again and not a perpetual patient.  I'd say that everyone should have their own camps out in the willywags but that would ruin it.  So all you Josh Hartnett types out there please stick with your Diesel Jeans and your fancy indoor plumbing.  Leave the woods to us Lee Marvin types and our Lovely Girlfriends as yet unexplored lumberjack fantasies. 

The Matin' Shed

What's on Your Mind?

Chemo Brain apparently.  Yesterday, while meeting with my Oncologist, Hans Gruber, I mentioned that for the last month or so I've seemed a little hazy.  I've been extremely forgetful (sorry, GGD and Miss Bossy Pants for flaking on dinner) had a hard time concentrating and on numerous occasions lost complete track of time.  Anyone that knows me knows that I am nothing if not remarkably punctual.  I'm not kidding.  I cannot stand it when people are late.  I also never need to write things down as I remember just about everything (and I don't want to leave a paper trail.  Hey, you never know).  He informed me that I am probably suffering from Chemo Brain.  When I got home I forgot to look it up.  This morning I remembered.  I looked it up.  I've already forgotten what I found.

I'm certain that right now several women along with my Lovely Girlfriend are all thinking the same thing.  You never remembered any of the shit I told you.  Well, that's because most of the time what you said had something to do with looking fat or not in a new outfit, bed linens and drapery or your hair.  If you'd ever bothered to talk sports, movies or cars with me, I would have listened.  I was also, in all likelihood, probably pre-occupied with thoughts of the next time we would be sleeping together.  So really it's kind of a compliment that I wasn't listening.  If you weren't so hot I could have concentrated more. 

Womenfolk and how they can prattle on aside, I am normally sharp as a tack.  Some might even say brilliant.  Okay, I'd say it and if you'd say it too I'd happily return the favor whether I believed it or not because I'm considerate like that.  Did you not read the wonderful compliment I just paid to all those attractive women that I had to listen drone on in order to see them naked?  Just call me brilliant and we can move on...  I'm waiting... I can stay here all day... Okay, thank you.  I'm sure you're brilliant too. 

I've been feeling a lot less brilliant these days.  When I was coming back from the camp last weekend(pictures and re-cap coming tomorrow) I got lost on the way home.  On the same road I was on just 48 hours before.  I had to make a single turn and I missed it.  This was not a tricky road either.  This was a clearly marked, easily seen turn.  And I missed it.  I drove about twenty miles out of my way before realizing I had gone way, way too far.  I often forget what I am supposed to be doing even though most of the time what I am doing these days involves sitting on the couch.  My frequency of blog postings has slipped dramatically as well.  When I started this site my intent was to write something everyday.  My hope was that most of it would be clever.  While the later has quite obviously been satisfied in spades the former is greatly lacking.  I form these hysterical ideas in my head and before I can even grab a piece of paper (I've resorted to writing things down now) it will have already slipped from my grasp. 

Chemo brain, it's not a.... wait, what was I talking about?

It's the Final Countdown!

Duh-duh-duh du!  Duh-duh-dut-dut-duh! 
Duh-duh-duh du!  Duh-duh-dut-dut-dut- duh!
Duh-duh-duh du!  Duh-duh-dut-dut-duh!
Duh-duh-duh du!  Duh-duh-dut-dut-dut-dut-duh-dut-dut-duh dut-dut-duuuuuuuhhhh!

This song has been in my head for the last three days.  Hopefully it's in yours now too. 

I was never a Heavy Metal fan.  I find it to be totally obnoxious and moronic.  If you're into it, that's fine.  I won't think less of you.  Not much anyway.  I know my intense dislike of this form of music is odd since rumor has it that the Maine State House once voted to make Motley Crue's Home Sweet Home the state anthem.  Their are still a couple dozen radio stations dedicated to just this kind of mind-numbing drivel.  You'd think it'd be in my blood.  Just like my love of Allen's Coffee Brandy, cars on blocks in the front-yard (excuse me, door-yard) and wearing flannel shirts for formal occasions.  Somehow Heavy Metal eluded me. 

The reason this terrible Europe song is in my head is because I am in My Final Countdown.  In a good way, not a terminal way - just to clear that up.  I had my second to last session of chemo today.  That means I am two weeks away from my final dose of chemo.  I don't know exactly how long this horrible excuse for a song spans but when I listen to it it sounds like it goes on for two weeks.  After that I get about a month long break.  What am I doing during that break you ask?  My Lovely Girlfriend.  No, that sentence is not missing any words. 

All that's left after that is a month of radiation and then with any luck, a clean bill of health.  IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!


 

Leaving Civilization for a While

Just a quick football picks post before heading up to camp and possibly never being heard from again thanks to either a decision to go all "Into The Wild" on all of you or a tragic mountain goat mauling.  I know a couple of days ago I told you all that I wasn't really feeling this years football season due to the passing of my Father.  While that is still true I do feel compelled to continue picking winners (start picking winner would be more apt) for all you gamblers out there that don't feel comfortable placing bets until I weight in on it.

Chicago Pick em over Tampa
CAROLINA -1 over Washington
NY JETS +3 over San Diego
CLEVELAND -3 over Seattle
Houston +3 over TENNESSEE
Denver +2 over MIAMI
Atlanta +4 over DETROIT
OAKLAND -4 over Kansas City
ARIZONA +4 over Pittsburgh
DALLAS -12 over St. Louis
Green Bay -9 over MINNY
NEW ORLEANS -14 over Indy
Baltimore -7.5 over JACKSONVILLE


College picks
Oklahoma State -7 over MIZZOU
Washington +21 over STANFORD
Kansas State -11 over KANSAS

If I make it home, photos to follow.


 

24 Hour Lymphoma Party People!

A buddy of mine (we'll call him Erin Go Bragh) sent me an article a while back about breakthroughs in Cancer research and treatment.  Apparently new reseach shows that the drug Ecstasy may be helpful in the treatment of White Blood Cancer Cells.  I'm not sure if Erin Go Bragh sent me this because of the type of cancer I have or because he knows I like to party but either way I was thrilled!

According to the research, the way it works is Lymphoma and Leukaemia patients start out by dressing up as Rave-people.  Scientists say the more androgynous the outfits the better.  They take X and head to an abandoned warehouse somewhere in the bad part of the city.  Scientists are trying to determine if how bad the city is effects the results.  For example, is a Leukaemia sufferer in Baltimore (where you can't swing a dead cat without hitting an abandoned warehouse) more likely to respond to the treatment then a Leukaemia sufferer in Boca Raton, where there are no bad neighborhoods, only lily-white old people?  They've had trouble making this determination due to the complete and total lack of abandoned warehouses in these neighborhoods.  Researchers say the next and last step may be the most crucial to the healing process.  The cancer patients must then wave glowsticks around while dancing to German Electronica.  I know it sounds crazy but it's totally true.

The results of this new, highly controversial, treatment is that the White Blood Cancer Cells become so annoyed by the whole thing they actually kill themselves off rather then put up with it.  Who can blame them,
really?  It doesn't happen immediately, mind you, this is a long and painful process for those willing to put themselves through it.  The longer the test subjects danced and ran their hands over each other while talking about how Amazing they felt the better the results.  The patients that managed to Danced Til Dawn had the most favorable results.  While those that didn't pace themselves properly and ended up puking in the Ladies Room while a fellow cancer sufferer held their hair back were forced to undergo a second procedure with the reminder to not act like a rookie next time around.

Scientists have reported that the most difficult aspect of this study has been getting potential test subjects to agree to undergo the treatments.  Many candidates for treatment have decided that they would rather let the cancer take them then endure a single night at a Rave. 

I've attached the article for everyone to read and to pass on to your Senator, Congressman or woman (probably Man, let's not get crazy here), Governor, or whoever else people like to send angry letters to.

http://www.businessinsider.com/illegal-drug-ecstasy-may-possibly-be-the-new-cure-for-cancer-2011-8

The Way Life Should Be

I will be spending this weekend at a hunting camp in the woods in Maine.  This is a real camp not some year round full time home tucked away in the woods parading as a camp.  There is no electricity.  You have to light kerosene lamps.  There is no running water.  You have to get your water from a handpump well.  All the cooking is done on a woodburning stove or in the firepit.  Cell phones don't work at camp.  Well, technically they do work, a super clear signal really, but that's what you tell your wives and girlfriends as to why you can't be reached.  Also, there is a outhouse. 

I will be, in no particular order, chopping wood, tending the campfire, whittling, smoking a pipe and ruminating.  Most of those activities will be repeated multiple times.  Especially the whittling and the ruminating.  If all goes well by Sunday I will look a little like this.

Now That's Grizzled!

If you never hear from me again after Friday it's because I have decided to give up on civilization and live off the land.  Or I was mauled by a bear.

A Football Fans Lament

It's been more than a month of Sundays since my Father's passing.  I use Sunday as reference because no matter what time of year it is one big sporting event or another is always happening on a Sunday.  Obviously, this time of year, the focus on Sundays is the WNBA and Premier League Soccer.  I'm kidding of course, thankfully that's never the focus.  The focus is football, just as God intended.  Football was always a bonding event in the Fun With Cancer Family.  When I was little my Dad and I used to go to local high school games on Friday, UMaine football games on Saturday and then rush home from church on Sunday to make giant plates of nachos and watch the NFL.  In the years since I moved away I don't think there was a single Fall Sunday that my Dad and I didn't talk at length about the games that week.  Six Sundays have since passed without that conversation.

This last weekend, while laying on the couch half-asleep, feeling like death warmed over from my most recent chemo infusion, I was roused from my slumber by my cell phone.  In one of those barely-awake-where-am-I states I checked the caller ID expecting it to read: DAD CELL.  It took me a moment to place myself and my circumstances.  Then another moment to compose myself upon remembering.  After I got off the phone it occurred to me, football may never again have the same meaning to me.

I've learned far too many life lessons thanks to football for it to not hold a special place in my heart.  Like the first time my folks dropped me off for a Police Athletic League game and my Dad stopped me as I climbed out of the car.  He looked me square in the eye and said "Son, win or don't bother coming home."  Or when I went to shake hands with the opposing team and he shouted "Sportsmanship is for losers!"  Okay, he never said either of those things.  That was Mom.  She can't help it.  She gets competitive when she drinks whiskey.  From the bottle.  You should have heard her at my Sisters softball games.  The little girls would be in tears.

I can't imagine that football's importance in my life will go the way of the Olympics.  A sporting event I once loved as a child and now cannot sit through more than a few seconds worth.  All of my Olympic memories were based on the Cold War.  Once that ended the US beating a third world country in a sport that I wouldn't bother to learn even the most basic rules of started to feel like a waste of time.  Except the figure skating and the rhythmic gymnastics.  I always break out my sequined tights and homemade scorecards for those two events.  It's the pageantry that gets me.  No, my football memories are not attached to international politics.  They are attached to my youth and my Father.  Those memories do not fade so quickly. 

I feel as if I am now without a football season.  Sure, the games are still going on but I am having trouble bringing myself to care.  The thought crossed my mind that it may be years before they matter to me again.  When my Lovely Girlfriend and I eventually have children perhaps then I will be able to share those same moments with my son (or daughter that I'm raising as a boy).  Until then I'll keep watching but it won't be the same.  Only my Mother's angry drunken rants will remind me of the days gone by. 

Calling All Show Runners!

I'm assuming that at this point the Fun With Cancer blog is on the tip of every one's tongue in Hollywood.  I say this because I know, literally, several people (possibly five, probably four) that are Big Time Fringe Players in Hollywood!  That's right, I know, very impressive.  These people aren't just on the outside looking in like the rest of us.  They are Almost on the Inside!  If you are a friend of mine in Hollywood that is reading this and saying to yourself - wait a minute, I'm on the inside, Jules is all wrong - perhaps you've been given a promotion since we last hung out.  We should grab a beer (on you of course, you Hollywood Player, you) and catch up on your incredible success.

I point this out because I have stumbled upon a fantastic hour-long drama idea and I want this blog to be the place were I unleash it on the world.  All the Big Time Fringe Players in Hollywood that I am friends with can spread the word and VOILA!  Next years breakout drama is on our hands!  Technically, The Ladies Man honed my idea down into a series format but since he doesn't have a blog and I am the closest thing he has to a Hollywood connection (although he did once run into Alec Baldwin in an elevator, he should follow up on that) I don't think he will mind me taking all the credit. 

The Ladies Man is a mixed bag of ideas, most of them brilliant.  Example A - Since we are all out of booze, let's borrow this power boat and zip around this poorly marked, overcrowded harbor during a foggy, starless night.  Brilliant!  We made it back unscathed.  Example B - I want to break up with this girl but I don't want to go through the hassle of a long drawn out conversation.  I'll have my buddy, Trotsky Goldblum, (he looks a little like Leon and a little like Jeff) do it.  Trotsky Goldbulm will fold like a cheap suit under the kind of questioning this she-devil will put him under.  Not so brilliant.  Ladies Man got engaged to her first then they broke up.

There is no denying that this idea is a brilliant idea.  I call it TERMINAL JUSTICE.  In our first episode our hero, A Rising Star Detective, learns he's got incurable cancer on the same day his biggest collar, a Mob Kingpin, walks out of prison on a technicality.  Based on the doctors best guess he's got no more than a year to live -- and to see that justice is served!  Terminal Justice, that is!  Our hero bends and breaks all the rules, much to the dismay of his Lieutenant, in an effort to put the Mob Kingpin back behind bars!  Somewhere near the end of the first season his Oncologist will discover a controversial new treatment that will keep our Rising Star Detective out on the streets hunting down the scourge of the city!  And provide us with ample storylines for season two!  There are a lot of exclamation points in this!! 

This is a can't lose idea.  I'm betting that as you read this as many as a few people (possibly four, probably three) are picking up their cell phones and calling someone.  About something totally unrelated to this post. 

Coming to Your City

I just watched the very annoying opening to ESPN's College Gameday.  I could have sworn Big & Rich (or BaconRanch as the Ladies Man and I call them) had died in some kind of fiery, douche-baggy, Ed Hardy Factory explosion.  Perhaps I dreamed it.  Well, here's to hoping dreams come true. 

BaconRanch's horrible music not withstanding I have been inspired by Lee Corso and the Boys.  Today I am announcing my Cancer Tour 2012!  I don't have the dates set yet - that depends on the all clear from the Doctors.  I don't have the locations set yet either - that depends on all of you.  Where will I visit on my Cancer Tour 2012?  Where am I invited to stay?  Free of charge, of course.  Who will cook meals for me?  Do my laundry?  Buy me beers to celebrate my victory over a cancer with a 95% cure rate?  I'm leaving it up to you readers to plot my course.  From Maine to LA.  Let the bidding wars for my sparkling company begin!

And now - NFL PICKS!

GREEN BAY - 14 over St. Louis - I wanted to make the font for the Rams a lot smaller but I couldn't figure out how.  I think it would have looked a little more appropriate.  I expected a post-Super Bowl slump of sorts from The Pack but they are rolling through everybody.  Their closest victory was against Carolina on a weak end of game cover.  This is gonna get ugly.  

PITTSBURGH -12 over Jacksonville - A lot of points to give up on The Steelers right now.  They are so damn inconsistent.  If Jacksonville runs it they could keep it close but I can't see that happening.  Jacksonville is terrible and it seems like Del Rio is waiting to get fired.

WASHINGTON +3 over Philly - Philly is imploding right before our eyes.  I have to wonder if Andy Reid is going to make it through the whole season.  I can't believe I'm taking Rex Grossman.

DETROIT - 4 over San Fran - The D-line of Detroit is amazing.  I felt sorry for Jay Cutler last week and he's not an easy guy to feel sorry for.  Unless the 49ers plan to run it on every play I don't see how they can keep Alex Smith from being broken in half by Suh and the gang.

Carolina +4 over ATLANTA - I warned you, Atlanta.  Welcome to the Dead To Me List.  I don't see you coming off of it any time soon.  I think that Carolina actually wins this game outright.  Not just some cheap cover, a W. 

Indy +7 over CINCY - DUTCH BOY PAINTS!  DUTCH BOY PAINTS! DUTCH BOY PAINTS!

Buffalo +3.5 over NY GIANTS -  I don't know.  Really just a wild guess on this one.  I feel like Eli Manning only gets word of the scheduled team a day or so before hand.  "The Bills?  Okay, is it an away game, do I get to stay in a fancy hotel?" 

Houston +8 over BALTIMORE - So did Kubiak decide that it's easier to wind up 8-8 if the Texans alternate trying and not trying from week to week instead of starting hot and blowing the last half of the season?  Is this his way of saving his job?  We didn't collapse, we sucked on alternate weeks.  That's an improvement, right?

OAKLAND -6.5 over Cleveland - I hate the Raiders and I love it when they are relevant - so I can hate them and it means something.  This could be there comeback season thanks to Al Davis's passing and the new Do It for Al mentality that the teams adopting.  As opposed to before he died when it was a Win In Spite of Al mentality. 

NEW ENGLAND -6.5 over Dallas - I went back and forth on this pick a few times.  Even against the worst passing defense in the league I can see Romo coughing up a couple crucial picks.  But Rob Ryan's D's have given Brady trouble in the past.  I say it is an ugly, turnover filled game and Romo's mistakes make the difference.

New Orleans - 4.5 over TAMPA - The Saints have too many weapons and they are going up against a team that couldn't stop Alex Smith.  Seriously, Alex Smith.

CHICAGO -3 over Minny - I keep taking Chicago and I keep getting burned.  Will it end this week?  Maybe, let's hope.

NY JETS - 7 over Miami - Let's all take a moment to congratulate Coach Sparano for making it through the bye week with his job in tact.  I can't imagine that he'll keep it until the end of the season but at this point each week is a tiny victory. 

7-6 last week.  Not great but at least it was on the plus side.  60-33 overall.  Thank God for those two perfect weeks to begin the season.  Amazing how that worked out

College Picks

MICHIGAN STATE - 2 over Michigan
Florida State - 13 over DUKE
Georgia Tech -8 over VIRGINIA
ILLINOIS -3.5 over Ohio State
Baylor +8 over TEXAS A&M

Where's my Wish?

There needs to be a charity group that helps adults with one illness or an other live out their dreams.  Similar to The Make a Wish Foundation only with more mature leanings.  Whereas a little boys dream might be getting on the baseball or football field of his favorite team and meeting his favorite player a man's dream would more likely be to run the General Managers office during the trade deadline or the free-agent signing period.  Or perhaps a man's dream would be to punch their favorite team's over priced free-agent flop or billionaire owner in the face.  Either way, if that same man is dying from something, that spoiled athlete and plutocrat owner should take it in the face.

Say I want to work over a perp NYPD Blue style to get a confession but don't want to take the time to join the Police Academy and work my way up the ranks plus I've got cancer so people naturally give me way more sympathy than a normal lazy person would get there should be a charity group that makes this happen.  How bout a visit to the infamous Grotto at Hef's place?  Where is the charity group that helps me fulfil this wish?  A chance to mastermind a million dollar art heist Ocean's Eleven style?  Wrestle control of New York from the Five Families?  Make It Rain like Pacman Jones?  Someone to pony up about five million so my writing partner and I can finally get a script made?  Hell, make it ten million, let's do it up right.  I don't think I'm asking too much here.

Let's fulfil some dreams for the ladies too.  I'm not certain exactly what they're into but if I had to guess it would be along the lines of a lingering hug from Shaun Cassidy?  Maybe a chance to sit in the audience at an Oprah Winfrey show?  "We're all getting Jelly of the MONTH CLUB!!!"  Cooking a five-star meal for their husband or boyfriend then cleaning it all up afterwards while he watches sports in the living room, his pants slightly undone to make room for that delicious dessert you've been working on all day?  Something along those lines.  Perhaps a chance to vote?  Oh, I'm being told they already have that one.  See ladies, even the most far fetched dreams can come true!

If this charitable organization doesn't already exist (and as usual I have not bothered to check) then it needs too.  I'm thinking the name should be a little grittier than Make a Wish with the whole shooting star logo.  How bout AdultWorld or Fantasyland or Spearmint Rhino.  Okay, I know those suggestion sound more appropriate for Adult Toy Shops and I'm certain that last one's taken but you get the point.

Loyal readers, make it happen. 

Coursing Through My Veins

Today is Chemo Day.  Infusion number six or more officially Three B.  You get an infusion every two weeks and two infusions equals one cycle, hopefully that makes sense.  After six cycles I win a lifetime supply of motor oil.  So I am on Cycle Three, Session B.  If all goes well I've only got one more cycle (two infusions) left to go.  While I'll have to give up my dreams of winning the 10w-40 I do get to have the bane of my existence, the Picc Line, removed from my arm.  I would get to go swimming in the lake again.  It will be mid-November by that time.  Once the chemo is over I'll get about a months worth of radiation.  At least I think that's the plan.  I'll know more when I meet with my oncologist, Hans Gruber, today.  When Hans isn't curing people of their various cancers he's tangling with John McClain but that's not scheduled until Christmas Eve so I've got plenty of time to get better. 

I noticed the other day that I have almost no hair left on my lower legs.  I spotted this while tearing into the several dozen mosquito bites that cover my calves.  I've still got plenty of hair on my arms and chest.  The hair on my head is thinning out but there is still a whole bunch of it there.  It occurred to me that if this trend continues and the hair loss slowly travels from my lower body to my upper body I'm not going to be too thrilled about where it lands next.  Sure, I've always kept it relatively well manicured down there but...

Anyway, in two hours I will be getting my blood drawn, meeting with Hans and then sitting through about a three hour infusion process.  They will give me some steroids beforehand (in an effort to reduce the side effects) that will make my face feel flushed and keep me up most of tonight.  After the first restless night the chemo side effects kick in for about a five day period.  During that time I will have a lingering smell and taste in my nose and mouth that reminds me of rusty wet metal.  I'll have the general feeling like I'm coming down with the flu.  My mouth will occasionally water like crazy and I'll be ravenously hungry.  I'll eat something, immediately regret eating and fight the urge to vomit.  I'll sleep about ten hours a day on average.  Oh, yeah, and finally I will have gas so awful that I feel bad for the people around me.  That last one is not mentioned in any of the side-effects pamphlets I've read so it may be unique to me.  And I will try to keep writing because it is one of the few things that makes me feel better and normal during those five days. 

Summertime and the Livin's Easy

From the age of about twelve years old until I was nineteen I spent every summer working at a camp on a lake in Maine.  Early on, since I was a kid, I mostly just mowed lawns, collected garbage and cleaned bathrooms.  I was not paid by the camp, I was a volunteer.  The last few summers, since I had proven myself, I was hired by the camp and put on Permanent Staff.  This was a big deal.  Now I got to mow lawns, collect garbage, clean bathrooms and get paid for it.  It was actually a great job.  I worked on the Maintenance Staff.  I spent the summers without much or any parental supervision on a lake, in the woods, working with a group of high school and college kids.  Many of my closest friends, to this day, came as a result of this camp.  I got to use power tools, drive riding lawn mowers, a golf cart, a rack-body truck.  My co-worker, we'll call him The Ladies Man, and I both had the same policy on work.  It could always get done tomorrow. 

Each week a different group of kids and counselors would come to camp.  Most groups were filled with great kids and great counselors.  Then there was Mom/Child camp.  I'm not certain how the camp advertised Mom/Child camp in their brochures but I'd bet if went like this - Are you an over-protective mother?  Is your son a momma's boy and your daughter a spoiled brat?  Do you spend a great deal of your time wondering why everyone else hates your angelic kids?  Then we've got the camp for you!  To call this group high maintenance would be an insult to all the women out there that take a mere two hours to get ready for a dinner date. 

One particular Mom/Child team was especially offensive to the whole "camping spirit."  A woman that asked if there was any way to quiet down the loons at night so she and her son could get some sleep.  I am not referring to a group of crazies (they came on another week), I am talking about the bird, the Common Loon.  She wanted to know if there was anything we could do to keep them from performing their nightly call and response.  Sure!  If decades and decades of human encroachment and the commercial development of their natural habitat couldn't shut them up I'm sure a couple of eighteen year old boys can come up with something.   

On another occasion this Mom/Child team informed us that the son (allowed outside of his plastic bubble for this one week) was allergic to mosquitoes.  And could we make sure there were no mosquitoes in his cabin?  The Ladies Man and I took great interest in his allergy.  What happened when he gets bitten?  Does he get an itchy red welt?  Oh, my God!  We get that too!  We must also be allergic.  We assured her that now that we understood the severity of his allergy we would mosquito proof that drafty old cabin.  We proceeded to pop holes in all the screens and make sure the rickety door no longer closed flush. 

I would not expect Karma to take this long to catch up to me.  As I type this I am consistently disturbed by the unquenchable need to scratch the skin clean off of my legs.  I spent Saturday at Raft City and apparently I am now actually allergic to mosquitoes.  My legs are covered in swollen bumps that won't stop itching.  I grew up spending time in the woods.  Never in my life have I had a reaction like this.  I don't know if it's my weakened immune system, the fact I've spent nine years in a part of the country that has no mosquitoes or the karma of making Bubble Boy and his Crazy Mom pack it in early that week but I am on the verge of taking a belt sander to my legs. 

Would somebody please shut those God Damn Loons up!

I Know How To Pick Em

Okay, let me start by apologizing to all of you that have been waiting since Friday for my NFL picks.  After going a whopping 6-10 last week I'm sure many of you have been holding off on placing any bets until you see my picks.  So you can bet the other way.  Be warned, my two week slide ends today.  I've gone back and studied the last four weeks and come to some conclusions.  First, the league is filled with a lot of very ordinary teams.  Second, even some of the supposedly Good Teams are actually ordinary teams that have to this point fooled most of the league.  With that in mind, here are my picks.

MINNY -2.5 over Arizona - Too bad teams but one is on the road.  I'll take home bad over road bad and hope that McNabb doesn't continue his valiant attempt to make everyone forget his previous career in Philly.

Cincy -1 over JACKSONVILLE - Betting on Cincy on the road + giving away points (even if it's just one) = bad decision.  However, I've come to believe betting on Jacksonville in any situation = worse decision.

INDY -2.5 over Kansas City -  More of the same, bad team versus bad team and I'll take the one playing at home.  Let's got Dutch Boy Paints!

New Orleans - 6 over CAROLINA - Cam Newton is killing me.  He's got everyone convinced that he's going to be great when all he's really doing it putting up huge passing numbers on D's that are playing it safe because they are covering a big lead. 

Oakland +6 over HOUSTON - Bounce back game for Oakland, let down game for Houston.  Throw in honoring Al Davis and I can see Oakland routing the Texans today.

Philly -2.5 over BUFFALO - The Eagles absolutely have to win this game otherwise their season is pretty much down the toilet.  Simple as that.

NY GIANTS -9.5 over Seattle - The G-men are good!  The Seahawks are terrible, they are on the road, on the other side of  the country with a 1pm EST game.  You could double this line and I'd still be all over it.

PITTSBURGH -3 over Tennessee - I know, this is another home team bet but damn if I don't think the Steelers still have some good football left in them.  At home, all banged up, isn't this the perfect time for them to Make A Stand?  God, I hope so.

SAN FRAN -3 over Tampa - Tampa's playing on the other side of the country after a Monday Nighter that was surprisingly tougher than expected.  I feel like I'll regret this one as well but I still believe in the Monday Night Hangover betting axiom.

NY Jets +9.5 over NEW ENGLAND - This line opened at 8 and if you look online you'll find it anywhere from 7.5 to 9.5.  That's incredible.  Obviously, no one knows what to make of the Jets after they got clubbed by the Ravens.  I'm gonna say they are still a very solid team, maybe not great but neither are the Pats.  Divisional game, Pats coming back from a long road trip, I'm going with the Jets.

San Diego -3.5 over DENVER - Is it possible that Norv Turner has figured out how to prepare a football team to win games prior to week seven of the season?  It certainly seems that way.  I know, I know, I'm as shocked as you are.

ATLANTA +6 over Green Bay - Okay, Atlanta, I'm warning you.  Screw this pick up for me and I'm done with you for the rest of the season.  You will be officially put on the Dead To Me List..  You don't want to be on that list.  Consider yourself on notice.

Chicago +6 over DETROIT - I would imagine that two games in a row of having to come back from down three touchdowns would be exhausting.  I'm at least willing to take six points on that theory. 

Last week - 6-10 
Overall - 46-18

Any suggestions?

Anyone that had two months and one week in the office pool of when I'll run out of things that I feel the need to pontificate on - you win.  I'm out of ideas.  For the last couple of days I've felt healthy and nothings been bothering me.  Therefore I've got very little to bitch about.  Since I am out of anything else to say, I will dedicate this post to a good friend that has been clamoring for a post to be dedicated to her.  She's broken me down.  She's getting her way. 

I will call her Celebrity Photo-Op as she has more photos of herself with TV and movie stars than anyone I've ever met outside of Los Angeles.  She has been a long time friend of the family.  Someone that is always there.  Whether she's been asked to be there or not.  Seriously, just try to get rid of her.  I dare you.  Celebrity Photo-Op has been a part of our extended family for as long as I can remember.  Or perhaps it's as long as I care to remember - it's tough to distinguish between the two. 

Over a month ago when my Father's health took a turn for the worse and he was admitted to the hospital, Celebrity Photo-Op was there each day.  Making an hour plus drive up to sit with us, share stories, run errands, basically anything we might need shy of scoring us quality street drugs to help our family out.  At the end of the day she'd make the hour plus drive back home with the promise that we'd be seeing her again the next day.  She did this until my Father eventually passed two weeks later.  I'm not certain if she has a job or if the people she works with were just happy to get the two week break.  Either way, she was there for my family.  Without fail.

She delivered my Sister's list of Top Ten Things My Father Taught Me at his funeral when my Sister knew she would be unable to get through them without breaking down.  She joined us on our failed mission to spread his ashes and I'm certain that once we work out all the kinks in the plan she will be there for the second attempt.  She has consistently helped get the word out about this blog since my first posting.  Only asking for a meger 10% cut of the profits in return.  In short, Celebrity Photo-Op is as close to family as you can get and because I have run out of anything else to write about I dedicate this post to her.

Also, here's my college picks for the week. 

Iowa +4 over PENN STATE
VA TECH -7 over Miami
Auburn +10 over ARKANSAS
NEBRASKA -10 over Ohio State
TCU -4 over SAN DIEGO STATE

2-3 last week.  17-4 overall.



   

Oh, Hollywood, you scamp!

For those of you that don't follow this blog on a regular basis (weak) or have only recently started reading it and haven't bothered to read the older posts (lazy) I want to remind you that when not afflicted with perfectly curable cancer I am a massively unsuccessful actor and writer.  I point this out because lately I've been seeing a lot of new television show promos (that I'm not in) and trailers for films (that I didn't write) that look completely and totally awful.  To be clear, I'm not saying they are bad because I didn't write or act in them.  Also, appearing galactically terrible would not have kept me from doing everything shy or cutting off a limb for a chance to be involved in the horribleness.   

Recently I caught a couple of minutes of a new show "Whitney."  I haven't been able to keep solid food down for three days since.  Justin Timberlake is staring in a film (I can't believe I just typed that) about a world were no one lives beyond the age of 25.  Justin is 30.  The other actors heading up this poorly conceived film are 36, 35, 32, 27 and 25 respectively.  So, apparently, the only people that can live beyond the age of 25 in this future world are the talentless.  Vin Diesel must be King there.  "Person of Interest" appears to promote some kind of  future-predicting vigilante justice.  I can't tell if I'm supposed to be horrified by this premise or relieved that Hollywood has finally jumped on board of Dick Cheney's original plan to keep us all safe?  Does this mean I should start voting Republican now?  I take all my political views from famous musicians and actors, is Jim Caviezel really famous enough to base my next vote on?  This was so much easier when The West Wing was on.

Point being, Hollywood puts out a lot of crap.  I've always been certain that one day my crappy product would also get made.  Then I saw a preview for a new movie called 50/50.  What the fuck!?  I think they stole my crappy product!  A film about a young handsome genius (I'm assuming) that suddenly gets cancer.  Hello, sound like anyone you might know?  Granted, I would have gone with Hugh Jackman over Joseph Gordon Levitt - Hugh and I have a closer resemblance in the pectoral region - and I would never cast Seth Rogen in anything otherwise this is exactly my story. 

Obviously there are some issues with my claim of non-terminal illness property theft.  In most cases it takes years for a film to go from script to screen.  How could they write the ending when we don't even know the ending yet?  Wouldn't someone from the studio contact me to invite me to the premier?  Seriously, did they even bother to make an offer to Hugh Jackman?  I'll admit I haven't seen it yet so I can't say for certain that they stole my story.  I guess I'll have to do that before I accuse them of stealing my story.  In all honesty, it's staring Joseph Gordon Levitt and Seth Rogen, I couldn't sit through it on a dare.  They stole my story!

Tramp Stamped

I've got four irrational fears.  Heights, Sharks, the Dentist and Needles.  Luckily, I've never had to confront all four fears at the same time.  It would make a great ending to a bad action movie, something along the lines Nic Cage typically stars in, only it would be me and it would be awesome.  I'd be getting a root canal done, on a cliff, while Great Whites circle below and I fight furiously to save the planet - National Treasure: Teeth of Wisdom in theatres February 2013!

I've managed to climb a ladder or two over the years.  I've been known to attempt an hour or so of surfing at times even though it always ends with me paddling back in furiously, convinced that a shark just brushed across my leg.  Until these last couple of months rolled around I'd managed to avoid needles and the dentist for most of my adult life.  I've already filled you in on my trip to the dentist but it occurred to me that I've yet to tell you about my experience with the Scariest Needle in the History of Needles!  So here you go.

In the first couple weeks following my biopsy and diagnosis I had to get a number of tests done.  Some, like the echo-cardiogram and the pulmonary function test, were to determine if I was healthy enough to undergo the chemo therapy.  I passed those tests with flying colors.  As it turns out, with the minor exception of Hodgkin's, I'm super healthy!  My heart is powerful, my lungs are huge and strong, my face if pretty.  They didn't have to test my face - that one was obvious.  Then we came to the Bone Marrow Biopsy and my fear of needles.  If you've ever wondered what an ordinary straw would feel like if it were made out of metal, sharpened to a razor point and shoved into your lower back than a Bone Marrow Biopsy is for you. 

My doctor, Hans Gruber, warned me not to look at the needle.  I couldn't help myself.  I looked.  A more appropriate description would be that I craned my neck around while lying face down on a bed with pants pulled slightly down my ass.  If I'd ever wondered how poor Andy Dufresne felt when Bogs and The Sisters finally caught him I had my answer.  This thing was fuckin huge and it was going somewhere I really didn't want.

Incredibly, the insertion of the monster needle was not the most painful part of this post-traumatic stress disorder inducing experience.  No, the most painful part of the process was the extraction.  Not only do they have to stick this monster into your pelvis and pull out a chunk of bone (I'm nearly certain they used a hammer for that part but by then I had my head buried in the pillows and was sobbing silently) they also have to suck bone marrow out of you.  The title of the procedure sort of gives that away but that doesn't mean you're any more ready for it when it happens.

When it happens you lose the ability to breath.  It feels like the air in your body, as well as a host of other things, is being sucked out of you.  I don't know if I made a sound when Hans Gruber pulled back the plunger.  I don't know if I could.  It only lasted a few of seconds perhaps not even that long but in those moments when he pulled the bone marrow out of me the term "a soul sucking" experience took on a whole new meaning. 

Needless to say, I am no longer afraid of a little needle.  One of the things that's kept me from getting a tattoo during my twenties (besides just good old common sense) was the idea of a needle driving in and out of me over and over.  At this point needles are old hat.  I've given blood so many times over the last few months that I am proud to say I can cross needles off my list of irrational fears. 

Giant fucking needles have taken their place.

 

    

Man-on-pause

I once went out with a girl that got so upset over a bad haircut you would have thought a loved one had died.  It was as though she believed she had doll hair and there was no chance of it growing out again.  I've accompanied a number of women shopping and always been baffled by how upset they can get over ill fitting clothes.  Ladies, when a man tries on a shirt or pair of pants that's his usual size and it doesn't fit do you think he bemoans his recent weight gain?  No, he simply claims that the offending clothes must be improperly cut.  It's never our fault.  It's always the fault of the small children in third world countries that are making these clothes and clearly screwing it up.  As soon as Fall rolls around (or whatever passes for Fall in LA) and it starts to get dark early my Lovely Girlfriend embarks on her quest to use up all of the heat that The Gas Company can provide.  It doesn't matter that it's still in the high seventies outside, she feels cold.  How about a sweater?  Then she'd be too warm, silly.

I've always been baffled by these consistently irrational behaviors displayed by you ladies.  I'm sure some of you are reading this and claiming you don't do this stuff.  Trust me, you do.  Don't believe me, take a moment and ask your significant other.  If they told you anything other than, "yes, dear, you do that" then you are in a relationship with a liar.  I'm aware that I am generalizing here and I know I'm not mining any kind of undiscovered comedy gold.  I don't care.  The point of all this is that I finally get it.  Ladies, I understand your pain.

It took five sessions of chemotherapy but I finally see how someone could go from hot to cold to hot to cold to hot to cold all in the matter of a few short hours while the temperature around you remains constant.  I was sweating like crazy then freezing cold then soaking my shirt through then bundling up all on a brief walk through the mall.  I considered buying a jacket.  A spur of the moment coat purchase!  Not in the history of shopping has a man (a real man) bought a jacket simply because he's chilly at a given moment. 

I now get worrying about your haircut.  Just today I debated getting a trim so the hair that's falling out in clumps won't be so long.  Maybe a shorter cut would keep it from falling out?  Would it look thinner or thicker?  Do I have a stylist that I trust to give me such a haircut?  I'm not exaggerating when I say this brief exchange in my head was the most I've ever thought about a haircut in my life.  Not at one time, all of the haircut thoughts, over the course of my entire life, added up, still wouldn't amount to that much.  Do I have a stylist?  Of course I don't have a fuckin stylist!  What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm beginning to think that one of the potential side effects of chemo is it turns you into a chick.  I tried on clothes today.  I've never gotten so pissed over not fitting into a shirt.  I stormed out of the store.  I got in my car, threw it into reverse, backed out of the spot and SLAMMED into a parked car!  No, not really.  The transformation into womanhood has not been so great that I've lost the ability to drive.  Also, I feel like I can still balance a bank account but since I don't have any money it's impossible to test if I've lost those facilities or not.  I'm watching Monday Night Football while I type this but I don't feel terribly passionate about the game.  I don't know if that's because of the two teams involved or the fact that the Yankees game is also on.  I do know that the Buc's colors of red and pewter are so 1999 and they should consider switching back to the creamsicle jerseys, orange is in this year... oh, no, it's worse than I thought!

Not Supposed to Breakdown

I am a life long Van Morrison fan.  In that always dumb scenario of what music would you bring with you when stuck on a deserted island Van Morrison tops the list.  I think Van is as close as we have come in modern times to the kind of musical genius that Mozart is typically credited with.  Granted, besides being able to play about five chords on a guitar I know nothing about music so I could be out of my depths on that opinion.  I tell you this because Van's got a song that's been running through my head a lot lately, Not Supposed to Breakdown, hopefully this link woks to get you to it -

We've had a couple of breakdowns over the last week in the Cancer Family Home.  It's understandable given all that's going on.  I won't go into all of them just the one that struck me as the funniest.  My Lovely Girlfriend and I had what could probably be described as our worst fight ever - if it had happened face to face.  Even if the All-Day-Freaking-Long fight had happened by phone it would have been one for the record books.  But no, this fight took place via text messages.  Which lands it squarely in the lead for our Silliest Fight Ever.  The subject matter was serious enough - being taken for granted - but the pre-teen manner in which we argued it was beyond ludicrous.  Since I couldn't get my Lovely Girlfriend to pick up the phone I was forced to let her know I was yelling at her BY TYPING IN ALL CAPS.  As if she would expect a message like "fine, fuck you then" to be followed by a smiley face emoticon and an LOL.  Amazingly, My Lovely Girlfriend did send me some frowny face symbols during this text memory filling argument.  Because I would not have otherwise understood the tone of "I guess this relationship isn't a priority for you."  The frowny face was what kept me from thinking it was a punchline.   

I know I've touched on this before but I hate those stupid text symbols.  I don't mind the silly things when sent to me by my Lovely Girlfriend as the tag to a flirty message.  It's when I get some kind of semi-colon/parenthesise symbol from a dude I'm friends with that I die a little inside.  Ask yourself, does Clint Eastwood LOL?  Would he associate with those that do?  I say no.  I once stopped hanging out with a guy because he cried during a double date viewing of Titanic.  Any of you "men" out there that put those annoying symbols on your text or emails should consider this before sending that nonsense to me. 

Back to the amazing song by Van Morrison.  Few of us out there revel in grief.  Most of us work extremely hard to avoid the great breakdown.  For me, I write.  This blog is my vain attempt at staying sane during an insane time.  For my Lovely Girlfriend she works.  Constantly.  I'm not kidding.  I don't think she's taken a day off since I first got diagnosed two and a half months ago.  So we had our breakdown.  Because I'd been writing about how I feel and she'd been working through how she feels.  Neither of us had bothered to actually talk that much to each other about how we feel.  At opposite ends of the country and with our chances to see each other during all this limited severely we try to keep our phone conversations as upbeat as possible.  It seemed like a good plan at the time but, honestly, we were fooling ourselves.  I thought she was a-okay and she thought I understood all that she was feeling but not saying.  We could not have been more wrong.

Thankfully, we both have very short memories.  Thankfully, we both can laugh at ourselves.  And most importantly, thankfully, we both understand that it is far better to fix whatever problem we are having than to be the one that is right.  Take that, all you women that told me I was incapable of emotional growth! 

For the record, I was the one that was right.  Kidding, kidding.  I'm just the one that has the blog so I get the last word.  With that last word I will say this - I'm sorry, Darlin and I love you very much.

Here's a little more Van to play us out -