God Hates Me

So i finally felt well enough to head back into work on Wednesday. I was still under a significant amount of pain and discomfort, but the doctor provided drugs that really softened the blow. I popped the pills after stopping for a couple of Breakfast Jacks.

After my boss found out the perscription i was on, he asked me to hide in my cube and not to post anything publicly on our corporate webboard. Good call. It's a much different experience to be hopped up on medication at home, than it is to be hopped up and try to interact with people all day long. I think i made the "drunken" fool of myself and hopefully didn't offend anyone who came by to visit. I think i lectured Nick a bit too long for a topic i don't recall. Sorry, Nick.

On Thursday, i thought it would be a good idea to not take anything, as i was going in for the follow up appointment and wanted to see how well i actually was without being under the influence of any narcotics. OK i'd say. Mostly just pressure and discomfort, and if i aggravated it by bending or twisting the wrong way i only had a sharp jab, as opposed to "Oh God, Oh God, I'm going to die."

Which brings me back to the title of today's blog. Yesterday i had a bit of a sniffle, nothing to worry about. All through the night and this morning, it decided to grow into an irritated cough and sneeze fest. Not the best conditions of a ribcage injury. Can you say, "Ow"?

So today i'm just going to lie down, take some pills, and do nothing. I even have to cancel a scheduled lunch i've been planning for about two weeks. Well, I'm sure the team would be more than happy to ditch me for some freshly grilled sausage.

Aliens 5: So That's What It Feels Like

Yesterday my internal clock woke me up around 7:30. I pretended to sleep in for a while longer, and then like i would on any other Sunday, plopped down at my computer to check some email and get an hour or so of video games in before i started my day. By 12 noon i found myself in the emergency room fearing a heart attack.

I'm 30, much too young to be worrying about this sort of thing. I sat in front of my computer for an hour waiting for the pain to go away before i realized it wasn't leaving. Everyone gets sharp pains every so often, be it a cramp, or a headache, or a kink in the neck - but this was inside my chest, an unusual and frightening place to feel any sort of discomfort.

For a moment i thought my pectoral muscle was in a cramp. I rubbed the heel of my hand between my sternum and left armpit to feel where the muscle was bunching up. It took two passes to confirm the pain was BEHIND my ribs. Normally this would queue the adreneline rush, yet for some reason i didnt panic. I think i knew that if i did, my heart would stop altogether from the abrupt change of pace. I slowly got up from my desk to put myself back into bed, and close to my wife. I'd let her know calmly that something was wrong. I wasn't light-headed or dizzy at all, so i knew at least for the moment the pump was still getting oxygen through my system.

I noticed Chloe had made her way to the shower. I could groan without question. I'd let her know i wasn't "feeling well" when she was drying off. The pain didn't subside, and when i bent over to crawl under the sheets, something tried to punch its way out of my ribcage. This must be what the John Hurt character went through in Alien. It felt like my heart had suddenly sprouted thorns, turning into a burr that you usually have to pluck from your socks after walking through a country field, except this time it was my insides that had latched on to every adjascent organ. I tried to scream, but my body wouldn't let me. I collapsed face first into bed, my legs hanging off the edge below the knees.

I managed to roll myself onto my back and sit up. I saw stars and flashes of white light. Funny those cartoons i grew up on were based on some reals experiences of pain from the animators. Thankfully, for some reason sitting straight up allowed for the least intense pain. I talked to myself, "This sucks. I'd better talk to Chloe before i can't anymore."

I somehow made my way into the restroom, feigning like i had to pee. "Honey, don't be startled, but my chest hurts pretty bad." She stared back at me with her mouth agape through the fogged glass. Even while fighting off pain as if my heart had burst into flame while in a vice, i couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was.

I don't remember much of what happened in the next half hour or so. I do remember trying to be as funny and charming as possible, so my wife didn't panic, and i think it worked. I also remember knowing that I needed her to take me to the emergency room and right away. Our first hospital stop was at the wrong hospital! One without an emergency room and more of a medical center - Good Samaritan Mission Oaks. 15 minutes later, i was in the Emergency room of Good Samaritan Hospital being wheeled back to get an EKG.

The triage nurse pasted the sensors to 12 points over my body, including my calves. The glue was ice cold and felt like jelly. "Now i know how you revive a heartbeat with those paddles. You shock the patient by freezing them." She laughed. Chloe got pissed, i could tell she was scared.

"Stop cracking jokes and just be a patient." There's something to be said for the disarming power of humor. And although i was in the worst pain i have ever experienced, i still had a smile, and wasn't freaking out. I winked at her, i dont think she saw.

They ruled out my heart almost immediately. Heart OK. Good. What the hell is going on then?

I spent the next 6 hours being wheeled around in a hospital bed hooked up to countless tubes and machines going through a number of tests to rule out virus, broken bones, weird growths, trauma, anxiety, allergic reaction to medication, yadda yadda yadda and on and on and on. "Would someone PLEASE give me a pill or shot or SOMETHING to kill the pain. Cut me open and get it out!" The Radiology technician made a mistake on his first run of x-rays, so i had to do double duty of getting up and lying back down. He's not on my favorite persons list.

At the end of the day, the doctor didn't know exactly what it was. He had a few diagnosis', a number of possibilities, and most of them had to do with tearing and or inflamation of musculature on the inside of my ribcage, the membrane around my heart and lungs, or the flesh between my ribs. Painful? Yes. Kill me? Not likely. Since it isn't anything life threatening but it still feels like i'm going to die, he was sure to discharge me with a prescription strong enough to make Tim Leary and Hunter S. Thompson feel like college freshmen trying pot for the first time.

My favortie part of the day was leaving, not because i was finally getting out of there, but a funny predicament i found myself in while removing the EKG sensors. Here i was, lying in a prone position, naked in my hospital robe and in the worst pain i've ever experienced. The doctor had just given me some drugs, and they were starting to take, brushing the edge off so it didn't feel like a ball of barbed wire lodged between my lungs. The nusre started to remove the sensors as i was signing my release papers. I didn't think anything could top the pain i was already in. "YEEEEOUCH!" i yelped. I then laughed. "OWWWW!" Again. The impomptu chest wax wasn't expected, thus the laugh. BOTH of these things intesified my already existing pain. She left them on and i finally pulled them entirely off later that evening. Funny Stuff.

I'll be out of it the next couple of days, convelescing and doped up so much i dont even recognize my own face in the mirror. If at any point it gets worse, i go directly back to the hospital. Right now the pain is only moderate, but then again i'm sure that's due the heroic doses of industrial strength drugs. There's more warning labels on the bottles than there were on my TV.

Shitty Kitty - Chapter 2: Attack of the Sphincter

Early in the morning, i can feel the kittens climbing up the side of the bed and tugging at the comforter. They slowly make thier way up to our heads, purring softly and being oh so cutesey. "Meeyowr."

They prod at my face, purring and burying thier heads into my chest and shoulders. Their masks of black fur, their white whiskers jutting out like silken threads, and thier dirty assholes exposed and stinking of shit.

I need to purchase them some kitty underwear. Chloe mentioned we can wipe their little shitty kitty sphincters with baby wipes. We could just train them to walk around with their tails down. In any case, i cannot forgive it. I can only comprimise the kitty ass with their cuteness, and live with it.

Shitty Kitty - Chapter 1

My kittens are damned cute. I hate them. I'm not much of a cat guy, but i can't resist their tactical cuteness - taking the indirect path to my heart.

For example, the velociraptor attack - when they clench down on your hand and wrist with their teeth and front paws, while they attempt to gut your forearm by slicing at you repeatedly with razor sharp thrusting rear kicks. Most would be prone to taking swift action to prevent this behavior. I on the other hand, support and promote it. Who am i to stop a million years of instinct? Besides, rewarding their behavior with treats or simple petting will help me feel secure against possible intruders. After taking a look at my arms I know Kitty will fuckem up.

Or Kaga, this morning pushing her way into the restroom while i was relieving myself of a load. I saw her opening the door and didnt think much of it. I went back behind my magazine to fantasize over the centerfold. When i set down Miss October this is the view i had. Insert any number of "pussy" + "my underwear" jokes or puns here. It's too easy for me to make the effort.

More Shitty Kitty coming soon. Next time, Attack of the Sphincter.

Kimberlyn Ann... McGinty?

Kim got married!

I can't express in words how happy i am that she tied the knot, and to someone who truly loves her. So i won't.

The food was good, and i need to find the baker because the cake kicked arse.

I'm glad i finally got to know Kim's friend Millie a bit better, that's one rad chick. She's even more outlandish than i am. And when we were attempting to leave, she just continued to tell us how rad we were. I don't know where that came from - i was drunk and am sure i insulted everyone at the table at least once.

Her date looked just like the guy who played Tom Collins in Rent.

Jason and Eric were both there, so the conversation inevitably turned to sex. I talked about Kim deep-throating an ice-cream sandwich. Chloe talked about her mentor Ms. Satanica pressing her naked breasts into broken glass. And Jason topped it all off with his Japanese experience which consisted of a nine-story porn video empire, Manga characters, two dogs and diarrhea.

Putrescence Yams

Opening day for wifey's store was awesome. There were no fewer than 20 people in the store for the whole 6 hours I was there. I just sat in the front window and watched the flow of knit heads.

I missed Bruce, who came in just after i left for home to take a shit and get ready for a wedding.

The Reverend Dan, Sulekha and Eduardo all came in to give their respective blessings.

Only good things are going to happen for those girls.

(This edit is to give D.B. credit for the title. Thanks DB!)

The blog that didnt make it.

I deleted the previous entry here. It seems that i may have been a bit honest with the internal workings of my brain. In reading it again after a good night's sleep, i could see where men in all white would be at my front door on monday, waiting to fit me for a jacket that fastened up the back locked together with the sleeves.

Whoops.

It also helps that my wife has this uncanny ability to put things into persepctive. A skill she's honed in her marraige to me. I read her a short passage i thought was especially clever, and she gave me "the Look."

"Um, my mom is going to read this."

"Oh yeah, huh."

I'm prone to being a bit odd. But with this ability to now sit and stew in it for a bit before it finds it's way into a written form of communication, it's festered into a giant boil of misunderstanding and chaos. It's OK to be critical of the mundane and nonchalant about the unthinkable, but once it's in print someone is bound to use it against you in a court of law, or to get you commited.

Here's the only portion tame enough to survive for public consumption. Fill in the rest however you wish. I assure you it wont even come close to what followed. Enjoy.

The full moon keeps pace with the car. Lunatics. Eddie is with his wife, late on a Saturday and wonders who or what is going to come out of a random dimensional rift opening on the overpass ahead of them. Maybe it'll be pre-Charmed Rose McGowan. He thinks of his mom and her tales of superstition. "Don't look at a full moon through a closed window." He accepts this with no question, and still doesn't have an explanation as the expected underlying analogy escapes him. He thinks about a woman on a gurney at the turn of the century with a doctor applying a vibrator between her legs. It cures hysteria. His mind is all over the place. Something is going to happen. The moon is still in tow, like a balloon tied to his wrist.

"I'll see you at the party, Richter!"

At this very moment, Total Recall is playing on my new 46" HDTV. It's hard to believe that the director of this film is the same man behind the ultimate camp classic, Showgirls. It's also hard to believe that i own both of these films on DVD, considering the film buff i think i am. Watching these movies for enjoyment is like shitting into your underwear; it might feel good for the moment, but it'll leave a stink and stain difficult to forget.

Sparkle Motion

My wife tells me that i have an interesting take on things. It's good to know that at least one quality i have is engaging, otherwise i don't have much of an idea why she would settle for someone like me. "Someone like me," being an ogre with a view on the world that ends at my glasses sitting on my nose. Until very recently, i thought that when someone called me "incorrigible," it meant that i was open to encouragement.

I tell my friends I'm lucky. After a few minutes hanging out with wifey, they pull me to the side and nod, "Yep, you're definitely lucky." This is after they get to know her a bit; far past the initial shock of the eyeful of T&A. She's intelligent, funny, honest and beautiful. I see it this way - typically, when it comes to women, you only get two of the four traits, maybe three at best. (If any honest women are reading this, they would concur.)

I went to a performance of hers last night. She's in a choral group. They're good, and not just good "for being a volunteer group." I don't feel like my $25 bucks for a ticket is wasted after the final song.

It's an immense contrast to her other gigs, which may involve the eating of fire, or shoving spaghetti up her nose and pulling it out her mouth. She's a circus freak, adding a fifth quality to the "Big 4" i mentioned earlier. Orgasmic i tell you. A perverted nightmare you can't believe was given birth by your subconscious, and i'm living in it. We've seen each other use the bathroom, the ultimate confirmation that this is no dream. This is real, and i'm ecstatic.

That's her on the right there, in company with Count Smokula,
the Fishnet Floosies, Kitten DeVille, and Miss Satanica.

I'm sure to include her in plenty of future posts. I'll stop here before being gooey starts to getting me gooey.

(She's bound to read this entry. If i put it together right, I'm getting special treatment tonight.)