EEEEEEEP!

I have a birthday coming up…tomorrow actually. It’s a big one too—65. EEEEEEEP!

This is the average lifespan for someone with my extra special, rare disease—neurofibromatosis type 2. Clearly, I’m not dead yet. This is good news, yes?

To be honest, I’m a bit surprised about this. After these past few years—all the mega huge surgeries (4, count ‘em, 4!), proton radiation, chemo, eye procedures and endless rehab—I wouldn’t have bet on me. But, fuck man, I’m still here. How ‘bout that!?

Oh, speaking of endless rehab, my current physical therapist feels that I AM making progress after all and is looking into scheduling me for more appointments (versus cutting me off at the end of the month). I hate PT but I need it and it’s most awesome to finally see some positive results.

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I saw this yesterday—I want to be 15 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas. To be abundantly clear, I do NOT want to go back to my teen years //shudder// at least not in a permanent way. It’d be interesting to pop in and out though. Ya know, undo/avoid a few embarrassing situations here and there.

If I could go back to any decade, would I? Maybe my 30s and up from there.
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I just finished one of Tim Dorsey’s Serge Storms mystery/adventure/wild rides. Serge is sort of like Dexter but instead of creatively killing murderers who’ve managed to dodge justice, Serge imaginatively offs unrepentant, entitled bullies and other complete assholes who should never have been born. He’s brilliant, funny, wildly creative, has an immense wealth of knowledge about his beloved home state of Florida and he’s the most unlikely good guy you may ever come across.

Here are three lines that hit me:

Remember the key to life…always act like you deserve to be here.
(TRUTH!)

Far too quickly we grow into jaded adults and lose our appreciation for silliness.
(silly is good—stay silly.)

You never stop being Catholic. It’s like the Mafia or Amway.
(you can leave the church {as I did}, but the shame and pain inflicted by the nuns, takes time and a lot more effort to ditch.)
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An important message from The Beaverton:

NASA warns alien life may not be fuckable

NASA’s interstellar sexual health spokesperson, Clarice Kravult, decried the golden age of Sci-fi in the 60s and 70s for creating unrealistic templates for attractive aliens:

“Horny writers who were paid by the word to appeal to teenagers set a standard that lingers to this day,” Clarice explained. “Do not expect aliens to be ageless nymphic figures that are fascinated by our naive ways, or statuesque stoic warriors who somehow find nebbish heroes charming.”  (source)

Well, there goes thousands of adolescent dweeb’s fantasies. Consider this a public service announcement. You're welcome.
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That’s it from me today. It’s now time to do a few balance exercises, perform acts of hygiene and entertain Cake (aside from constant pats, he enjoys playing the occasional game of Monopoly—he always wins. I think he cheats.)