Tuesday, February 07, 2006

It has begun

I have an idea. Want to torture someone you hate? And I'm talking hate because this is serious and way beyond the kind of mild revenge you enact on someone who's merely annoying and/or deserves something more along the lines of a voodoo doll with pins pushed ito strategic places than absolute revenge. I'm talking a form of agony saved for anyone who needs to be severely punished. Death-row prison inmate punished. Stupid bitch flirted with your boyfriend punished. Loads the dishwasher wrong every fucking time punished.

Make them watch Regis & Kelly every morning for a week.


It's only day 2 of my week from hell and I'm ready to go out and buy a bazooka just so I can come home and launch it into the TV right through those smarmy morning show hosts faces. Who the fuck can watch this shit day in and day out must be desperate for entertainment or recently visited a "special" hospital and had many many volts of electricity zapped through their brain because I'd rather watch someone eat pig ass swinging from a helicopter while being drizzled with hot lava then listen to Reg intermittently yell every other word through a 10 minute recap of the Italian fucking sausage with pasta he ate for dinner the night before. God help me.

I just realized I might have done a piss-poor job of talking about the events I'm going through this week. I'm having another cancer scan. It requires 4 days of office visits and a host of shit to deal with. I had my first injection of a drug called Thyrogen yesterday and will have another today. Without getting all technical and boring, this drug does something magical inside my body so they can see stuff on the scan. Then I take a little pill stuffed with a little bit of radioactive material on Wednesday. I have Thursday off to contemplate my naval. Then the scan on Friday. And the doc already thinks I'm have a recurrence so this scan is a formality. Fun and FUCK.

I did this last year and while I'll freely admit it's easier than going off meds, it still sucks large sweaty donkey balls. The side effects are similar to having the flu. Feeling like I haven't slept in a week, achy, crampy, gnarly headaches. And this year you can add nausea to the list. Yay! I've spent the last 20 hours trying not to puke, unable to eat anything more than a small piece of home-made pretzel.

But at least I'm not thinking much about this stupid fucking low-iodine diet I've been on since January 30th. What is a low iodine diet you say? It's a diet where you can't eat anything with iodine in it. What has iodine in it you say? Everything. What can I eat you say? Nothing. OK, that's not exactly true but it feels true. Can't eat anything god damn fun, I'll tell you that. And it's forcing me to cook, which, I can't. So I currently have a huge batch of butternut squash soup that looks like diarrhea in the fridge and a meatloaf cake smothered with unsalted ketchup. Yum and SUCK.

In other news, work last week was a popular-crowd head cheerleader dating the quarterback car on her sixteenth birthday spoiled rotten bitch and didn't allow me to update my blog let alone read any, and after I yelled at the whole blog world too. Then my system at home took it's final shit on Friday night and I had to go buy a new one on Sunday. You look at one little picture of a foot up a chick's ass and boom, dead computer. I couldn't even get online and the Geek Squad was no help at all. So now I have a cute Compaq that won't betray my occasional foray into fetish porn. And it has digital cam card slots in the front and yours doesn't. I'm fancy.

So before I have to go and get another needle plunged into my tender arm, I leave you with a pathetic plea. Please internet, please suggest any manner of entertainment to divert my attention away from this shitty week and the ever-present feeling that I'm strapped to a carny ride that's flipping me upside down every 2 minutes after eating a greasy sausage sandwich served in a dirty ashtray. Something that doesn't involve an anorexic perky blond and a self-important old man who talks about his prostate at breakfast.

I beg of you...

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