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...
