Setback

i got a call today from the doctor. it was a much anticipated call following the cardiac stress test i underwent yesterday. the test, if you're not familiar, is one in which they pump you full of radioactive materials, take some xrays and imaging, put you on a treadmill to get your heartrate up, and take "after" pictures to see if there have been any significant or abnormal changes.

there were. so, i'm faced with my first setback on my road to recovery. the conversation went something like this:

doctor: scott, this is dr. ____. i looked at your nuclear tests from yesterday and they're a bit abnormal.

me: what do you mean, "abnormal?" what's wrong?

doctor: well, it shows that when you exercise, the area of the stent (remember? the little titanium mesh tube inserted in the artery to keep it open) seems to close a little. we have a couple of options here. you can go thru another angiogram or up your medication.

me: FUCK. okay doc, i want to come in and talk about it.

if you don't know what an angiogram is, well, it fucking hurts. a tube is inserted in the femoral artery (seriously, just look it up) and up to the heart where they can probe the problem area and, if need be, insert a new stent. i really don't like this option, since i'm not much of a fan of being hospitalized for another 3 days, nor do i like not being able to walk for a week. sadly, i may have no other choice.

so, i've come to a detour in my progress. i'm not happy about it. in fact, i'm downright pissed that this shit keeps happening to me. but i pretty much have to maintain some sense of inner strength. i guess the old saying is true, "if it doesn't kill ya, it makes ya stronger." we'll see.

TBD

Yeah, I'm Hooked

i know it's juvenile. i know it's gen-y, as some may say. but make no mistake about it, i'm hooked on myspace. it's sad, really, that i find myself at all hours of the day logging in and out to see if anyone from my past has made an effort to track me down and see what i've been up to. i'm on and off hoping for just one more message in that inbox to boost my self-esteem.

there have been reports on the news recently warning parents to monitor their teenagers' activities online, in particular, myspace. all maladies aside, i can't help but keep a browser window open, or at least available, at all times knowing that at any second, someone i haven't seen in 5 years could have sent me an email saying, "hey, what's going on? how are you?" even better, what if it's some girl that lives near me that writes that she loved my profile and thinks i'm great? and wants to meet me for drinks? and thinks i'm hot? and wants to, er, uh, ya know? what if i'm destined to meet my soulmate on this dangerous internet medium?

obviously that won't happen. nor do i wish it to. but these are the mental processes of an addict. you should know, you're one too. go on, admit it. you and i are in direct competition with everyone else between the ages of 18-34 to see who can garner the most "friends." we all know that if you have 856 "friends" on myspace it means your popularity hasn't waned since high school and you love it. you like the attention. we all do.

everyday there is a new online community forming. but none of them (yet) have the mind-controlling power that myspace possesses. we should all be thankful, 'cause nothing in the world would be accomplished if they did. if it weren't for myspace, i'd actually get some work done between 8:30 am and 5:30 pm monday-friday. of course, when i'm not on myspace, i'm browsing craigslist (gawwwwd i love craigslist! you can find whatever you want and need....oh, tangent).

i doubt there is a 12 step program for myspacers. there probably should be, but who really wants one? sadly, i think we're nearing a point where a couple of support groups will be popping up here and there. and rightfully so.

it's an innocent act trying to reconnect with your old friends and finding some new ones through the wonders of technology. but there's a direct correlation, an inverse relationship if you will, between myspace surfing and work productivity. the more friends you have or want to find, the more your real, working, professional life (ya know, the one that pays the bills?) suffers. i could get into the science and mathematics of how that works, but i'm smarter, sexier, and more wonderful than you, and you wouldn't understand. at least, that's what my 68 friends at myspace.com tell me. will you be my friend?

He Shoots, He Scores!

a quick post today... i'd like to belatedly congratulate vp dick cheney for his shot of the day. managing not only to shoot your hunting partner, but also lodge birdshot in the guy's heart causing a mild heart attack? that, mr. vice president, is pure skill. perhaps you'd like to compete in the next summer games? i'm sure the u.s. squad has room for one more sharpshooter. bang!

Screw You, Hallmark

dear hallmark,

it's a week before valentine's day, and i'd like to take this opportunity to, on behalf of all men, tell you how much i (we) hate you for creating this and other ridiculous "holidays" that cost us money and make us feel like shit.

for all but 2 of my 26 (soon to be 27) years on this earth, i have been with out that "someone special" on your bullshit holiday. please do not mistake my recognition of this fact for a manner of benchmarking how pathetic my love life often is. rather, it's a not-so-subtle reminder of how you have ruined love and mankind as we know it.

each february 14, i, along with countless millions of other men, am made to feel completely inadequate if i don't have someone important, aside from family or close friends, to buy bouqets of roses, boxes of chocolates, and (meaningless) poetic or romantic cards for. with your incessant advertising of how important and special this made-up holiday is, i cannot help but feel lonely, unappreciated, or cheap...despite my best efforts and the knowledge that you made this day up for no better reason than to beat me into economic submission.

it's no secret that you and debeers, kay jewelers, and godiva have conspired to con millions of dollars from innocent, and often underfunded, men like me. you tell us our wives, girlfriends or flavor-of-the week will truly appreciate a card, some diamonds, more diamonds, and chocolate. they'll give us love and affection that we'd ordinarily not be party to. you're lying, and i'm calling bullshit.

after the roses have wilted, the diamonds been lost or pawned (or broken...if the guy was cheap enough to buy cubic zirconia), and the spike in sexual activity has subsided, we reach a common state....unsatisfied. the men are left with less money, less sex, and the persistent memory of the disappointed look on their women's faces upon receiving the aforementioned gifts. you, incidentally, are unsatisfied as well. 8 months pass and the spike in sales are a distant memory. it's time for one more go-around with your sucker customers--sweetest day. thanks alot, assholes, i hate you.

oh, by the way, your card is in the mail, the chocolates should be delivered any day now, and are 2 carats enough for you? see you in october!

love,

scott