It is Saturday night and my weekend has sucked so far. Friday night my wife was incredibly pissed at me for no good reason which I will get into later but she was really mad and spent the night ignoring me for the most part. So after my tenth and final apology (ten is my limit) I went to bed. This morning I woke up and checked my email and found this:
Subject: Because this is probably a bad idea….
When I don’t sleep, I make poor decisions. I feel certain this is one of those and I will regret it as soon as I click send. I always regret saying anything serious or complimentary to someone else because I am only comfortable with the funny. But it is 4am and I haven’t slept so….
Thank you for taking time away from your family and watching porn or whatever you like to do in your free time to write and manage this blog. I can only imagine that it must be incredibly time consuming. You are funny (and if you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it– you have a big heart) and your funny should be shared.
I have been told that it is a good idea to let someone know when they do something well. So there– I’ve told you. I have had a shitty week and will probably have to evict some organs from my body. It is difficult to interact with real people right now, but you pretend people are really fun to talk to
Good job, grasshopper!
What did you see in that email? You know what I saw? “I HAVE HAD A SHITTY WEEK AND PROBABLY WILL HAVE TO EVICT SOME ORGANS FROM MY BODY”. Because of what I have been through when someone tells me they are having organs removed I think cancer, it is always my default assumption. So I emailed her back with a short “you are going to beat this” email. I won’t tell you who it was because I don’t want to embarrass her and I didn’t ask her permission to post this email. Fuck it her name on this blog is Ladybug, her name in real life is Sherri and she lives in Kansas City, MO and has a freckle on one of her nipples (I read all the comments).
My head was spinning and I immediately began game planning. I had promised my father I would come down and have breakfast with him so I had to leave. While driving I started thinking and formulating a plan:
I have been through this so I will call her husband and talk to him for support.
My wife is good at talking to kids so I will have her offer to talk to the baby bugs.
I will rally the BBL’s and we will start raising money. Diets don’t cure cancer but there is a diet out there that involves eating certain foods and taking certain vitamins and amino acids. It is a diet based on science and has to do with eliminating certain amino acids in your body and after ninety days the lack of this amino acid acts like a natural Chemotherapy. My mom tried it and it worked but by the time we found out about this it was too late for my sister. But like I said it is not a cure but it is based on science and can help along with traditional treatments. It is also very expensive and costs about $2,000 per month and is not covered by insurance companies.
My plan was simple. We get about 200-300k hits a month of which 20,000 to 30,000 are unique visitors. I will simply ask for donations and should easily be able to raise the necessary money. I would also start asking people to advertise on the site in case we didn’t get the donations we needed. Any money would be used for this treatment and any left over money would go to ovarian cancer research.
By the time I met my father at the IHOP (yes I fucking love IHOP) my plan was settled. When we sat down my dad started talking to me but I wasn’t really paying attention because my mind was wondering thinking about getting all of this organized and my dad noticed I wasn’t paying attention.
Him: What’s wrong?
Well the last thing my dad wants to here is about a young woman with cancer so I just said “nothing Lexie’s just pissed at me again”
Him: What did you do?
Me: Nothing, it’s stupid she’s all fucking hormonal and gets mad at the smallest things.
Him: What happened?
Me: Last night I forgot her middle name.
Me: We were talking and I don’t know how we got on the subject but I couldn’t remember her middle name.
My father starts laughing hysterically and can’t stop. People in the IHOP (I fucking love IHOP) are staring and he can’t stop laughing. Finally he stops.
Him: How the hell could you not know your wife’s name?
Me: It’s her middle name and I do know it I just couldn’t recall it at that second. Then she started quizzing me about everybody’s fucking birthday and I was all flustered and couldn’t remember anything.
Anyway I went home and had an email from Ladybug. Turns out she is having a procedure done but she doesn’t have cancer and will hopefully live a long happy life.
This episode has inspired a new blog rule. If you email me and tell me you are having organs removed from your body you MUST explain why.
So do you like peanut M&M’s or regular M&M’s better?