Clearly, I Lied

Clearly, I lied.

The last time I left you, I was promising the world and failed to deliver like a deadbeat dad (small d) promising to lay off the booze and finally pay for Junior's school books. Unlike the deadbeat, I had good intentions and did actually write the first story (or chapter), but it was absolutely fucking terrible so I threw it in the garbage where it deserved to die.

As a result, I've come to a realization – I'm either really bad at writing about me (likely) or really bad at writing first person in general (even more likely). The first chapter of my horrible proposed book had to do with a story that happened the summer before I left for my year in London. Although I had the best intentions of being objective (you know...like FOX news), it ended up being a sob story of “why doesn't anyone like me???” and I just don't think anyone gives a shit, so I canned it. Trust me, we're all better off.

Therefore, the “book” has been put on hold indefinitely until I can figure out a way to write about my own life experiences and pawning it off as a fictional story with actual (made up) dialogue as opposed to a “this one time...at band camp” style story. Either that or find a way to write more effectively – which...let's be honest, isn't really in my wheelhouse. Being perfectly honesty, I feel like I've failed because it has been roughly two months into this experiment and I've failed to update a single time. Really, in a way, this is kind of your fault since you promised to badger me for said updates and I haven't heard a peep out of anyone. Not even a “hey, fucker – you promised!!” so you only have yourself to blame.

Anyway – in lieu of a story, chapter, etc., I'll instead bore you with my latest pain in the ass: physical therapy. About three weeks ago, I was diagnosed with what doctors call a “SLAP Lesion” which sounds like a fancy venereal disease, but is actually medical speak for a fucked up shoulder. Short story long, whenever I twist my shoulders the wrong way (when driving, sitting, jerking off, etc.), it feels like somebody stuck a shiv in my shoulder and twisted in revenge for me booting their dog off a bridge. As you can imagine, it's not a pleasant feeling.

In an effort to alleviate this ailment and prevent temporarily life-halting surgery, I've been undergoing torture (physical therapy) to strengthen the rotator cuff muscles. It turns out, after my initial screening and subsequent sessions, those muscles offer the same strength and resistance quality as a newborn baby's. As someone who has made a point of being physically active in life, I can personally attest to the embarrassment associated with having a physical therapist laugh at how weak your shoulder muscles have become due to poor form/lack of use. It's kind of like paying someone to kick you in the testes/ovaries and then laugh in your face because your arms aren't strong enough to retaliate effectively.

So, after a few weeks of PT, I have noticed a marked increase of strength and decrease in pain, so I suppose it's working. At this point, I'm optimistic surgery won't be needed, which is always a positive since I don't enjoy spending thousands of dollars on anything that would actually benefit me. As with any debilitating injury, prior to knowing my shoulders were as week as a T-Rex, I never realized how much I was compensating for their lack of strength with lifting even the smallest things like dishes or cooking pans. The bottom line is this: I'm a huge pansy and nobody should ever take any kind of advice about working out from me because they'll be laughed out of the gym and might eventually need surgery to fix my blunder. I should get casualty insurance – it's that bad.

In other not so depressing news, I have an ungodly amount of flights to purchase this year due to weddings, holidays and family events. March and August stand out as exceptionally expensive months which require multiple flights – so...that's fun. Boo hoo...I'm so popular people want to hang out with me...yeah, I know...

Anyway, that's your quarterly update from me: my shoulders are fucked and I'm going to spend an assload on flying all over the country for events where people want me to attend. I'm working on figuring out a way to write my stories without sounding like a whiny bitch, but I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one – you know how good of a writer I am. Would you expect anything less?

One last point: since it's Super Bowl weekend, I'll do the cliché thing and pick a winner. San Fran is getting 3.5 points last I checked, and I have SF winning 31-24 even though Kaepernick is a fucking douche for trying to trademark the bicep kiss. So – SF I guess. Don't use this endorsement to bet the game – I'm horrible at picking any kind of sporting event...