As you can see, I’m suddenly struggling to get the Light the Night info up again this year. Struggling because I can’t remember how to do a lot of this web work, since I haven’t done anything site related in over a year. And suddenly because this week I’m reading about another dear friend’s dad who is being attacked -again- and it royally pisses me off.

Raise your hand if cancer has fucked with your life. Any cancer – I don’t care what kind it was.

That’s why we need to raise the money. If you can’t donate, then join my team and help drum up donations. So what if you can’t walk with me, raising money is all that matters anyway. I’m tired of being chased by this bastard.

I’ll try to get the rest of the links up today, but it’s taken me an hour just to get this far. I just love being a drooling code idiot.

I just barely remember the past two days. I spent most of it sleeping. I haven’t felt this bad in a very long time. In fact, I can’t remember when I felt this bad. Maybe as a child? My gawd. Still can’t remain upright for more than a few minutes at a time. Throat still hurts like a mutha, and I haven’t been able to eat in …… ? how many days? Don’t remember. Probably why I feel so damn weak. MD took amazing care of me this weekend, but he’s at work now so we don’t starve to death. Guess I should be thankful for summer vacation. At least the older boys are here to help out. Even if I have to pay them to do it.

I have splendid fever of 102. My throat is so sore and swollen that I have to grip an arm rest to swallow. Head is dizzy. Feels like the flu is coming on. Also got a migraine yesterday about 4pm, and when it was still here -and killing me- at 10am, MD ran me to the after hours clinic for a shot. Yay Nubain.

Headache is still mostly gone, but the shadow pain is still there. Hard to describe. Almost like the really big ones leave such impression on your brain, and it takes awhile to get back to normal.

I would like someone to just whack me with a stick and put me out of my misery.

Dad got sick again from the chemo this week. He looks so frail. No one seems to see it but me though, so maybe I’m just imagining it. Mom said he has one more treatment before they start running the scans to see if it’s helping or not. If it is, they’ll go at it a bit longer and then go in after it. If it isn’t.. well, then they stop. And that’s that.

I really need a list of all the movies I should avoid right now. Family Stone is one. Gawd. Nothing like choking back the tears when you have friends over. Notice how she only had to say I’m sick? That’s all it takes for some families. That’s all you have to say to let everyone know that the big C has come to play. Those two words make my skin crawl. They make me nauseous.

When I realized that they were showing us her last Christmas, I had to leave the room. I’m not doing very well with this again. Maybe the chemo treatments were giving me hope. Who knows.

On the brighter side of things, my sister’s scan results finally came in – all clear. All of them. Doc says she’s extremely healthy. That he sees no reason to think she won’t make it to the 5 year mark. Not exactly the kind of thing someone wants to think about, but at least the news is good.

Don’t suppose that anyone in Tampa works downtown near Franklin Street.
Don’t suppose that Franklin Street is still hopping with vendors.

Don’t suppose that one of those vendors still sells the bestest, tightest, cutest hair scrunchies in the world?

I still have the ones I bought from her almost 10 years ago. The ones I buy nowadays are stretched and shitty in a few months. And ugly to boot. She even made me one with little french fries and ketchup packets when I ran the BK on Franklin. Such a sweet lady.

Wonder if she has a website?
Is it pathetic that I am seriously seeking out a woman who makes hair scrunchies?

Last year’s post.

Sex Offender Map – use it.

Polly Klaas Foundation – information and child id kits. Don’t forget to donate.

FBI’s State Sex Offender Registry

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MB2 won an Ipod Nano at Youth tonight – and gave it to MB3 without batting an eye. True, he already has one, but I figured he’d sell it on ebay. Or offer it to MB3 – for a price. But he didn’t. He just tossed it to him, and MB3 about cried and pissed himself and had a stroke all at the same time. Sometimes it’s really good being a parent.

—–

In other news, I have officially lost my fucking mind….

At the hospital, I was asked to verify that our information was still correct. I told her that our phone number had changed, but then I had to hang my head after a few minutes and tell her that I couldn’t remember it. Told her the last four digits, but that the prefix had me stumped. Then I got nervous and started babbling about how it was a computer phone and the prefixes are sort of odd and although it’s close to the normal numbers around town, it’s one number off and I couldn’t remember which number it was.

She just stared at me. For a long time.

Then I remembered that I had a cell phone. Duh. Gave her that number. Then remembered that my house number was in the cell, and got all excited and shit and told her WaitWait, I can get the real number for you, and the poor girl was just sitting there backspacing and wishing she had called in sick that day.

Then I get a call that evening. RingRing…..RingRing…RingRing…… – that means it’s a TampaCall. We have that additional area code thingy added on for his family, and it rings all cool like that when they call. Basically it tells me not to bust my ass to answer the phone, ’cause it ain’t for me anyway.

So this gal calls and asks for Tina. I thought she said it WAS Tina – MD’s sister – and I started asking her how she was and blah this and blah that – those pain pills sure make this old gal a chatter box, yanno. She listened to my blather, and then politely asked (again) if Tina was home. Only this time I realized what she was saying and I garbled to her that she must have the wrong number as I was trying to stick my foot in my mouth.

Oh no problem, hahaha, but can you tell me if this is 555-5555 (insert whatever number bullshit she said here) , and I had to tell someone for the second time that day that I didn’t know what my own fucking phone number was because it was a computer phone and as well it was a Tampa number and I had no earthly idea what the number was – but that I could check it for her if she wanted to hang on a second, but I guess my blustering bullshit was freaking her the hell out, and she hung up on me.

And then today…… some woman asked me what the wee one’s name was. I told her, and she went all gahgah about how her nephew shared the same name, and then wondered what his middle name was – and I said Miller. Miller. I fucking said Miller. Thanks to that sonofabitching Greek Wedding movie, I said Miller. I have been calling him that ever since I saw the movie, and today I officially fucked up, booted Carter, and proclaimed Miller as his birth name.

Guess it could have been worse. I could have called him Eon Miller like I usually do.

——-

Soul Patrol Soul Patrol.

——-

Everyone is back to normal around here. No more sickies. MB1 and I had a touch of it yesterday, but it didn’t last long. Seems like the bigger…. older…..more mature you are, the less it attacks you.

——-

Dad had second round of chemo this week. Wraps up tomorrow. Not sick yet. Blood count is still going up – that’s good, eh? He does have that cold sensation shit really bad though. Can’t get into the fridge/freezer at all. Starting to take jackets with him when they leave – and it’s hot as HELL outside this week.

One day he looks great, and then I see him a few days later and I can actually see the cancer. Fucking cancer.

——-

Gotta get that LightTheNight thingy up again. Wish I could think of a trade-off for donations. Pictures of my nude body would cause people to jump off cliffs, not donate money.

The kids and their friends are all joining this year, and they are all trying to think of ways to raise money in groups. Little contest, if you will. I think it’s cute as hell. Especially when there is a little guy in MB3’s class who battles leukemia every day. He’s kicking its ass though. Hope he continues to do so.

——

K. Time to grab the tub of ice cream and head on over to Pogo. Don’t bitch at me. I’ve somehow lost another 5lbs from taking care of sick kiddos and being ill myself. I need the nourishment. And this eating out of the carton thing is totally under control. I’m just cutting down on dishes.

Plus, I just started, and I would pay big fat dollars to see anyone try and take this bitch away from me.

Last night was rough, but better than the night before. At least I was able to get a few hours of sleep. Thought the kids were all on the mend, until MG crashed again. She wouldn’t do anything but sleep, so I ran her to the doc, who took a peek and shoo’ed us to the ER, who made us wait 7 hours to get a prescription for stop-the-puking butt missles. She was thrilled.

The other kids are up and at’em. Eating and drinking and seemingly back to normal. MB1 snuck away one more night. MD has his usual volleyball game tonight, but he took three boys so I could watch a little tv in peace. They won’t be back for awhile, so maybe I’ll catch a nice hot bath as well. Can’t remember the last shower I had. Bet I smell purdy.

Take 4 sick kids with two of them s-l-o-w-l-y on the mend, add in a new barfing recruit by the name of MB2, throw in the helping hand from MD today and a few stolen Z’s this afternoon, and I’m gearing up for NightFromHell #2. MB1 stayed away for the third night in a row. Still thinking that’s wise.

We caught up all the laundry. Disinfected the entire house at least 47 times. He made our room black as hell so I could catch a nap – ’cause I’m one of those that can’t sleep when the sun’s shining. We bathed the kids to wash away ThatSmell and then bathed and bathed and bathed them again. Not sure how to bathe the house like that. Gawd, does it smell ripe. Febreeze my ass.

Please let tonight be easier than last night. I’m too old for this shit.

Still here. Still non-stop puke patrol and ass wiping and laundry duty. Still going it alone as MD was bushed from 9 hours of volleyball and couldn’t keep his eyes open past 11pm. I have yet to close mine.

I can promise you that he’ll will regret every second of the past 24 hours.

I haven’t had a day like this in a long time. Four kids sick. MD had a volleyball tournament AllFuckingDayLong which left me to deal with them alone. House smells like barf and ass. Two oldest boys bailed outta here for the night – can’t say I blame them. Wish I could. There are buckets and towels everywhere. More buckets in the bathroom – ’cause it’s one of THOSE tummy bugs. I won’t be sleeping tonight. Wee one and MG don’t understand yet that they can’t throw up while flat on their back.

Gonna be a long night.

My sister had her mammogram recheck today.
All clear.

MB4’s adventure came at a very important time. He asked me the other day why he was different. He knew that everyone didn’t look the same or talked the same, but there was something different about him, and everyone knew it.

Said he wasn’t fast like the kids in his class. Not as an athlete – as a chit chatter. He didn’t know the words for it, but that’s basically what he was getting at. He couldn’t talk like they could. He didn’t know what to say most of the time even when they talked slow enough for him to get a pretty good idea of what the conversation was about. The kids tell him that he’s pretty dumb for a smart kid. Nice, eh?

I want to punch children again.

Then “I” comes back, and he forgets all about this shit. But he’ll be leaving soon, and MB4’s life will crumble again. Do I start thinking about homeschool again? Obviously the school doesn’t give two shits about how he’s treated. We had a long talk about how fun tag and kickball can be, so he told the kids he’d like to play – they said no. Am I out of line for thinking that the teacher should step up and prevent kids from being left out? That maybe she’d have an organized game where everyone plays so no one stands alone? The older he gets, the more he’s trying. The more he understands. The more he detects asshole-ism.

—–

Yesterday we had an appt with the regional center guy. He comes over to see how things are, and to see if there’s anything he can help with. When he got here, MB4 was at the door. Waiting. He spent close to an hour watching the street. He was waiting for his friend to show up again. Try explaining invite. Try explaining why the parents need to invite, not the kids. And do it in a way that doesn’t make the parents out to be bad guys who don’t like him. And somehow explain how often every once in awhile is. Try doing this without breaking their newly found joy.

Then try explaining it again 30 minutes later when he comes in and asks if they’re here yet. Try not to cry in front of the regional guy because you just can’t get through to your child on your own and you need fucking help but the insurance company doesn’t see this as problematic enough to provide services and although your kid needs therapy something fierce – he needs to eat even more.

Then sit there while your son and 4yo daughter come sit on the couch and inform you that she will be a good girl and follow the rules so she can go as well. Smile when they say you’re the meanest mom ever because she can’t go at all, and he can’t go today. Start all over with your explanations and watch as your words are twisted and used against you until you finally give up and accept your crown in defeat.

And I get to do it again in 4 more hours.

There was a knock on the door today, and a very cute little kid asked if MB4 could come over to his house. I didn’t know what to say, and I was just sort of standing there confused when MB4 came shrieking up to the door to say hi to his friend. Can I Can I Can I? I’ve waited my whole life to play at a friend’s house…

OMG he was so excited. I saw the mom in the driveway, and went out to talk to her. She got out and we arranged for him to go over there for a few hours. Turns out this is the best friend who moved away and then moved back recently. “I” has a picture of MB4 on his dresser and tells everyone about his best pal. I told her that MB4 was crushed when they moved away, and she told me that they aren’t here to stay – just until her husband gets his shit together. They’re taking a breather. Dammit. My kid gets his buddy back only to be yanked away again.

When MB4 and this kid raced to the car, I opened my mouth to talk, but didn’t know what to say. She stood there looking confused, and I finally said that MB4 had Asperger’s. I didn’t want to say autism and freak her out, but I didn’t want her to be blindsided with some weird shit either. I totally wasn’t prepared to handle this today. I honestly hadn’t thought about it. Didn’t think he’d be going over for playdates for awhile.

She seemed to know what it meant, or else she bluffed beautifully. I kept it simple. Told her that she just might notice a few odd behaviors, and not to think anything’s wrong. That he might ask some strange questions, or appear to be rude/blunt/whatever. “I” is a gorgeous child, a gorgeous mixed child, and I was afraid MB4 might ask questions that stung without meaning to. She seemed to catch on then, and told me not to worry. I guess MB4 had already told “I” that he was a ‘very handsome brown person’. I found that I liked this mom immediately. I just hoped I wasn’t chasing her off.

But damn, I had to say something – didn’t I? What if he went to the bathroom over there? Naked? And gawd forbid he didn’t just piss. He’ll bend over ass in the air and demand an all clean declaration no matter who’s in the room – just ask his older brothers and their friends. What if he fell and got a tiny booboo – that just happened to bleed a tiny bit and he damn near went into convulsions about bleeding to death?

What if What if What if – I could play this all day. I did the right thing – right?

I stressed about it the whole time they were gone. Thought maybe she’d never let them play together again. I stressed about how he was acting over there. I stressed over what he was saying to them and what they must think of this crazy ass family. Gawd, how I stressed.

Then they came back and the mom gave me a picture of “I” for MB4’s dresser and addresses and phone numbers both here and at the new place and said she’d be by several times before they left again. Then she smiled at MB4 and told him that she’d be back and I thought the poor kid might actually have a stroke of joy.

Words cannot describe how I feel today. My baby has a best friend.

My parents were over this weekend. We fixed a nice ham dinner for mother’s day. We usually have a bbq at their house. Just another reminder that things are changing around here.

Dad is dealing with this in a way that works for him. Probably the same way I’d deal with it, but I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Told mom she should fix his plate and serve it to him because he had cancer. Showed up here with tape over his eye, telling me that it was jiggly and felt like it was melting from the chemo. I even whelped out a scream when he yanked it off – as he howled with laughter.

He keeps asking if his eyebrows are going to fall out, ’cause he thinks that’d be cool. He wants to pick out a wig. He showed up for his chemo with a greasy pork sandwich and a bag full of candy – and ate every bit of it. He leads the dogs on a march through the house in his robe while blasting music and telling mom to clear a path for the DeadManWalking.

But even though his sense of humor has taken a morbid turn, that smirk on his face tells me that he’s not even close to giving up.

MB1 had a couple of kids over last night. One is damn near a part of the family. He is extremely tolerant – hell, just flat out wonderful with MB4. He was partnered with an autistic volunteer at the hospital because he’s just that kind of kid. They knew he’d help him. Just a damn good kid. Actually did homework last night instead of playing video games because he had to work today and he wasn’t sure if he’d have time to get it all done. Gah. A parent’s dream.

The other kid, however. Geezus. My fucking head is still swimming. He walked in the door and immediately started to read a speech about morals he had written for class. Then he asked me for a hug. Then he sang a song. Then we were treated to an evening of rants from a 15yo kid who is convinced he knows everything about religion, sexuality, politics, …. basically everything in the whole damn world. And he likes to quiz people to test their knowledge. Only the answers better align with his beliefs – or they’re wrong.

Ummm – mine were wrong.

By the time I was finished with him, I think I broke something in his brain. Either that or he normally loses the ability to form complete sentences past midnight. Hell, I wasn’t even fired up. Didn’t even get into MY personal beliefs. I simply asked questions and poked holes and stated the obvious.

I hated to deflate his sails like that, but shit. Parents should really REALLY teach their children to respect someone else’s differing opinion. Teach them how to enjoy discussing and debating those differences without making it personal. Or at the very least, how to know when to shut the fuck up. Very uncool to badger someone when you’re a guest in their home.

I raise my kids to consider all sides before creating their viewpoints. I don’t expect them to take a stand with me, but I DO expect them to respect the amount of consideration I put into every opinion I have. I expect my kids to think about why they believe what they believe – no matter what the topic. I want them to be confident in their choices. To be educated. My kids know that I encourage discussions, and they aren’t afraid to become the people their viewpoints are creating. And most important, my kids know that even the most carefully formed opinion is still a work in progress. If we don’t continue to question, we cannot continue to grow. This kid was a puppet. Merely regurgitating what his environment had stuffed down his throat. I felt sorry for him. How do you feel the fire of a passionate belief when you don’t even know why you believe that way?

Could be that I’m the odd man out though. I guess a lot of parents expect kids to just do because that’s the way it is without an explanation as to why it is like it is. I do that at times as well. I try not to though. Telling a child to buckle up EverySingleDay seems like a bunch of shit to me. Simply explain that their heads will smoosh and explode like a fucking watermelon against the windshield and they never forget to put that sumbitch on again.

I won’t get into the specifics of our conversations, because I’m actually ashamed that there are still people out there who think this way, and I refuse to breathe life into these prejudices parading around as beliefs. Just know that it was fucking disturbing. Like I said, I didn’t jump up his ass or down his throat, but I sure as hell hope I gave him pause.

Strangely enough, he’s already started planning his next visit to our home, and asked to join us this year for the light the night walk. Hard not to laugh and shake your head at his spirit. Or his stupidity. Whichever.

Took a bit, but the chemo did end up putting dad down. He started running a very slight fever too, even though he takes the antiobiotics and aleve to keep it at bay. It never went over 101 though, so they didn’t make him go in. I guess fevers are a real big no-no now?

He saw the surgeon yesterday, who told dad that the next step will be out of his hands. If the chemo does help, he’ll have to have the surgery somewhere on par with the mayo clinic. Nothing around here, I take it. Just another reminder that this shit is serious – no matter how normal he’s starting to look on the outside.

—

It’s been chilly here lately, and we’ve been cooped up as a result. My mood is starting to rumble because of it. MB4’s mood though – wow. He sat down and had a conversation with us last night about a friend of his and what they talked about at school – that never happens. He’s been asking us to explain more and more words, but I’m still not sure if he’s completely understanding them as he walks away. That bland, polite smile never changes from his face.

He also wants to know why ‘everyone’ gives things more than one name. Why do we have to have two names for everything? Isn’t it easier to just find one and use it? Like 12 o’clock and midnight. Or noon. Or sofa and couch. Let’s not talk about divans, Ok? Spaghetti versus noodles. Pasta. Although we can see the differences, he can’t. Our worlds are specific, and his is so generalized. I can’t imagine what it’d be like going through life only getting the gist of it. Kinda knowing what people are talking about. Sorta knowing what’s going on. Helps me to understand even more why he clings to the concrete parts of his world for dear life. They’re the only things that make perfect sense. Numbers. Order. Rules. Lists. Routine. Structure. Same bowl. Same spoon.

I’m so much more at ease with it than I was two years ago because I know that he’ll be ok, but I still wish I could help him more.

MS just called – she got a lovely letter in the mail about her mammogram results. They need to see her again on the 18th for more testing. She has been waiting and worrying about the liver test results. She wasn’t expecting this at all. No news is good news and all that. I told her not to worry because there are a lot of reasons why it could have come back suspicious. The port maybe? She had that reduction, so maybe scar tissue? She’s not telling mom and dad. Doesn’t want to worry them right now.

I would like off of this ride please.

Dad started chemo yesterday. So far, no problems at all. He went in today, although I don’t know why exactly, and the pump gets removed tomorrow. He sent mom out last night to grab a bunch of snacks, and proceeded to eat them all. She said his appetite is back to normal. That’s a good thing, eh?

Bad news is that he wasn’t one of the ones chosen to receive the new medication. Not sure why he’s still in the study if he doesn’t get the drug, but whatever. Seems cruel to me.

—-

I had to have my wisdom teeth cut out. Yanked out. Beaten out. I swear he must have punched me while I was under. They were growing in weird and squishing shit and refusing to play nice. He said I kept waking up and biting him, so the nicks and bruises on my mouth and cheeks are from where he was trying to pry his fingers away. Hope I bit them hard. My gawd, I look like a fucking chipmunk.

Black eye, jacked up face. Wonder if MD wants to go out this weekend.

Oral surgery sucks.
Darvocets rock.

Not really a black eye, but a swollen lump of ugly hell under my eyeball. Very attractive. People bitch that I never show pictures of myself here, maybe I’ll snap one of my lump.

I can actually see it there under my eye. It’s rather annoying. I’m going to end up wall-eyed ’cause my eyes seem to be drawn to it. And I’ve had a small, but irritating headache since my fight with gravity.

And why does this little thing pierce with pain like this? It’s not that big. I never thought I was a pussy. I’ve always had a high pain tolerance – or so I thought. Guess I’d be a shitty boxer. One hit to the face and I’d walk over and raise the other guy’s arm myself. Game over.

I just tripped and caught the corner of the couch arm – with my eye. The pain is unreal, but the humiliation is worse. Is this shit going to give me a shiner?

Everyone is driving me fucking nuts today. Foul mood. Very foul mood. Can’t say that I mind it. It’s about the only surge I get to ride out anymore.

Older boys aren’t here. They never are anymore. They are always off with their friends. This makes me wonder if I am the only parent in the fucking world that expects homework and chores done BEFORE the fun begins. And then when I get tired of letting them slide and slide, I get to be the bitch. Get to be the bitch for wanting my kids to be responsible humans. Can’t win.

At least their grades are decent now.

MD ran by to mow yesterday, and said that dad looks a lot better. Mom says he’s napping less as well. He was supposed to start chemo tomorrow, then they changed it to yesterday so he could go tues/wed/thurs, but the study he agreed to needed more tests done, so he starts next Tuesday.

He gets another week to rest up, right before they whammy him with that shit. I hope the chemo is easier on his system than it was for MS. She flat out said that if hers would have been for ‘extension’ – she wouldn’t have done it. And she did almost stop – several times. I think people should remember that when bitching at their loved ones for not wanting to start/continue treatment. We’re not the ones living on the bathroom floor.

Casual conversation with mom yesterday took a yuck turn when she started talking about this study and how everyone is hoping that dad will be the 50% to receive this new medication. She was still in lala land when I asked her who everyone was, so she tells me that the doctors said that this was dad’s best shot. A new drug. That he may or may not get. Great. And I love how she treats me and MS like we’re 5. Have to catch her off guard to get the whole story. I don’t want this kind of thing hidden from me. I don’t like being given hope, just to have it yanked away a few days later.

And no one knows what is going through dad’s mind. His old high school buddies are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to visit, and he tells them exactly what the doctors say. He tells them that it probably doesn’t look good, but the cancer is going to have to work its ass off to take him. Then they tour the chemo room, see the people in there hooked up to drips, and he tells mom that his cancer must be really bad if he has to have the ‘to go’ pack. Like it’s not registering somewhere. Makes me ill.

Dad has two brothers. One rushed his ass (literally) to the doctor, and they found 5 polyps in his colon. We now wait 2 weeks for pathology to come back. Not sure who he used, but obviously their lab is located on the moon. Hopefully they are benign and he will use this as a warning to have regular screenings. The other brother isn’t concerned. That his doctor claimed it wasn’t hereditary, and that he has nothing to worry about. Whatever you say doc.

Idiot.

When I’m a bitch, it’s because I forgot to take my pills.
When you’re a bitch, you’re just a bitch.
Bitch.

End of the school year is nipping me in the ass. Field trips. Field days. Kids asking for lunchables here. Kids asking for lunchables there. Me wondering who the fuck could eat that shit. Less and less homework. More and more friends over. And MB4 has to go to the school’s summer camp so he can squeeze in another month of speech therapy. Which means I still have to get up at 6am to get him ready for the 7am bus. Bleh.

I’m starting to feel pity for a man I’ve never met. His name is Mr. MG. Or it will be. Someday. If she doesn’t chase off every man that comes a callin’. She never stops talking. Never. I’ve learned that man trick of saying yes and yeah and really and oh and haha and great without even listening to a word she’s saying. I hope she grows out of this. I am so not a chit chatter.

We’re dropping her from tball. She told MD that it was over anyway. She got pissy the other day when I needed to take her to practice. She wanted the ballet bus instead. No, I don’t know what a ballet bus is, but it has nothing to do with tball. And I’m pretty sure it’s expensive. She told us that she wants to be a pretty dancer. Again, nothing to do with balls and dirt. Lesson learned. She is a girly girl. MD wants me to try her in tumbling, but she specifically said dance. I wonder if she’d notice. Probably.

Time to write a letter to MD’s friend. Would love to call or email instead, but no phone or email addy that I know about. The phone I get. Lots of people have no phone. Or they’ve switched to a cell and dropped the regular line. But no email addy? How barbaric.

I swear MD and I are the most boring people on the planet. We drove around for two hours on our date the other night trying to think of something to do. We ended up buying the 5for25 deal at blockbuster and going home to watch movies with the gang. Lame.

My friend told us to think of something to do for next weekend, because she’s watching them again for my bday. And she won’t allow us to come home next time. But what the fuck is there to do that doesn’t involve drinking or smoking or sex? Exactly. Not a whole helluva lot.

I tried having one drink a few months ago and I was almost instantly sick. Just not gonna happen for me anymore, thanks to these meds. I’m not much of a drinker, but I do enjoy it a few times a year. Dammit. And how can you go anywhere fun without seeing most everyone around you smoking? Not only does it make me jealous as hell, but my eyeballs can’t handle that shit anymore. They’ve been pussified, and the smoke makes them raw as hell. Not to mention the urge to strip buck ass nekkid after leaving because our clothes smell like a pile of rotting ass, thanks to our new and improved noses.

Maybe we should go fishing. Just us. Overnight. That’ll work.

It has taken me over 15 years, but I think I have finally found the other guy MD roomed with in basic/ait. He meant a lot to both of us, so this is great news to me as well. Now to let Friend 1 know that we also found Friend 2 and vice versa. They’re gonna piss themselves.