What is up, my friend? Not much here. My mom ruined my day today. You know that I had hepatitis, right? Well, officially, the doctors all said that it was hepatic toxicity. A subtle distinction, or maybe, not depending on who you ask. I think, given the manner in which one contracts hepatitis, that the difference is a big deal. I mean, it's the difference between eating poop or mixing acetaminophen and alcohol. I'd like to think that I didn't eat poop. Technically, there are 3 main types of Hepatitis. A, B, and C are all viral. One involves sex, one is contracted from eating the poop, and one you can get from blood transfusions or dirty instruments. In short, my mom said that she talked to some nurses and they all agree that I contracted Hepatitis B from my shoulder surgery and now the doctors at St. Francis are covering their respective asses by telling me that it was hepatic toxicity. So, it would seem that I am the subject of a great medical cover-up. This must be my 15 minutes but watch as I milk it for all that it's worth.
I'm going to do some digging; get an independent blood test from some impartial street doctor. Do those kinds of doctors exist? They do on TV so it must be true. I should probably go ahead and call 20/20. But I don't need people digging into my past. Who knows what they will find.
Anyway, my mom broke the news to me this morning. It's really cast a pall over this otherwise beautifully crisp Spring day.
To be continued...
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
It's unfortunate that you will forever be associated with death and destruction in and around the continent that is Australia. I'm sorry for you. Really. But I don't suppose that many Americans much care about what happens in Australia. That's always been my position. What happens in Australia...well, that's their business.
I just wanted to send you a little note to let you know what's been happening in my world since last week. Here are some highlights:
I was in the locker-room today getting ready to go work out and I overheard the most ill-timed conversation ever amongst men in a locker room. I stood on the scale weighing in as these two guys, standing there buck naked and toweling off, are talking about, of all things, sausages. I mean, polish sausages, kielbasa, hot dogs (I know that's probably not considered sausage), but still. You get why it's amusing. I thought, this really is a sausage party and quickly got the hell out of there.
I'm using what might be women's deodorant. I can't really tell. It smells like flowers so I assume that it's for women. The thing is, I think that I'm allergic to the strong stuff. I can use regular, run of the mill, deodorant for about a month and then all of a sudden, all hell breaks loose in the armpit region. It's as if someone lit tiny brushfires down there. It gets all red and irritated and if I put on anything, it just makes it burn and itch. Last week I used some of Anna's lavender-scented baby powder. This week, it's some weird Herbal deodorant that says nothing on it about the gender for whom it is made. I'll take it though. It makes me feel better. I don't know if it actually works and really, I'm sure that I even know what deodorant does, if anything. Nor do I know the difference between an anti persperant and deodorant. I think that it's an industry built on a scam, like dry cleaning. That doesn't work.
30 minutes left in the workday and then I am headed home. God, I love the end of the day.
Posted by Paul at 12:57 PM