Splatterblog!

We have made $809.20 before the first fish fillet has even been fried. 

Your collective generosity, people, is absolutely staggering.  Thank you - all of you, including the random goodwill strangers brought here by the blogs of others - for helping my Mom in her time of need.  I swear by all I hold Holy that I shan’t use your donations for new Transformers.

I’ve been rendered rather wordless.  I feel like a douche for putting this out there in the first place, but what you’ve done (and continue to do…as it seems money is still rolling in) will truly help the family’s situation a great deal.

“Thanks” just doesn’t seem enough.  It is my sincere hope that the karmic implications of your assistance deeply impact your lives…in a fashion that reverberates throughout the totality of them.   I want the echoes of your charity to clang against the confines of your skulls.  Feel good about yourselves, and don’t forget that you’ve done a positive thing here.  I know I sure as hell won’t.

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You can get married in California now.  Seriously, awesome!

I jacked this news from TheWalkingMan, who - though I have no proof as of yet - I suspect to be amongst your number.  Thanks, Joe!  Always cool to hear some GOOD news coming out of my blood-drenched war machine of a fucking country.

This is HELLA a step in the right direction, America.  You for real just made my day.

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Every third thought I have on this topic freaks me the fuck out.  All I can do is busy myself with my projects and try to laugh about shit.  It’s retarded hard.

Gotta maintain.

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I dig this image I swiped from Acardart:

With the possible exception of the 70’s moostash and combover that dude is sportin’. I could probably do without that. I dislike most things that remind me of the 70’s…I wasn’t alive until the end of them, but a bunch of that shit sucked design-wise in my opinion. Some of the animation is especially painful.

I ALSO dig this image, and I snagged IT from Evilgrins over @ comic_art:

First off, the art is absolutely fantastic. Painted musculature is hella where it’s at regarding superheroes. Secondly - it’s a hilarious picture. It’s like Nightcrawler is presenting his indigo cash n’ prizes to Wolverine, and Wolverine is either A - Not having it or B - preparing to gobble his throbbing mutanthood with all the might and fierceness of his namesake. It works for me on multiple levels.

What else…

My Dad and I just spoke. We have a rough plan regarding my Mom coming home, and to hear us discuss the issue…it seems pretty doable. So long as Mom has a nurse coming by every day to check her vitals and such, we’re feeling like we got the rest covered. Today, Esperanza cleaned out the spare bedroom (my old room from when I moved back from Orlando), and got that all looking very nice. All of my Mom’s books are set up to the left and right of where she’ll be, in pimp-ass Manga display shelving I got from a local comic book store (Famous Faces and Funnies, great shop by the way). I also have all of my action figures set up in clones of the same shelving over at my and Gabby’s house:

(Full size here

We’re gonna take an A/C wall unit from Cody’s old bedroom and plug the fucker in…gonna set it up with a Television set, DVD player and a buttload of Star Trek DVDs. The room is right by the shitter, and said shitter is already well-stocked with all manner extras necessary for allowing the handicapped access (My Dad is also disabled, in case you weren’t paying attention). Mom will be equipped with a Walkie Talkie whose partner will reside on my father’s hip. We’re gonna get hold of a food plan, and we’re gonna try to get her walking with my Dad’s old Walker/Cane collection.

We are at least comfortable enough to give it a go without attempting to deal with a managed care facility. If it becomes too much for my Dad, then we may be forced to look into it. My boss has generously offered potential assistance in that regard, but we’re gonna try to not take him up on it. It’s good to know he’s got my back, however. We are hoping that Mom being around all of her stuff will assist in her recovery.

Other aspects that need dealing with:

1 - Chemotherapy. As early as Monday or Tuesday next week, we need to get my Mom back to her Oncologist for a general check up, to see if she believes that my mother is strong enough to begin her chemo. She’s about one week beyond the thirty day window we were given when alla this brain shit went down.

2 - House stuff. Dad and I are in talks with various institutions, trying to see what wiggle room can be allowed. We’ve spoken to the mortgage company, and he’s spoken to the Veteran’s Administration (they sent something in the mail regarding a reduces monthly payment, but I think it would involve refinancing…an option not available with negative equity, but we’ll see). I’m in talks with some other dude about stuff.

3 - The House. Cody and I are gonna pop on over to my parents house on Sunday and prepare the place for my Mother’s arrival. This involved bed rearrangement and the disposal of what I like to call “garbage couches”, all in an endeavor to make it more easy for my Mother to navigate Maynard Estates.

4 - Lawyer up. A few days ago, a friend of the family who’s a Lawyer heard tell of our tale, about how my Mom was cool one day, had a chemo port installed, and then the next day has a massive “blood something but not malignant coma-inducing tumor that no one can really explain omg take it out or she’s gonna die” in her brain. We need to meet up with him and discuss our potential options. CHA FUCKING CHING, YOU MALPRACTICE SLINGING MOTHERFUCKERS. YOU WANNA ALMOST KILL MY MOM? LET’S FIND OUT TOGETHER HOW MUCH SWING YOU GOT TO THEM BALLS O’ YOURS. Maybe. Jackasses.

TO BATTLE!

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Okay….Mom being discharged from hospital.  The Doc wants her to go to a managed care facility called “Sea Pines”, so she can go through physical therapy and relearn how to do shit.  Good stuff, right?

WRONG.  The facility refuses to take her, because she doesn’t have any medical insurance.  So my Mom is being drop-kicked back home.  They’re gonna send her home with a hospital bed that my family is gonna keep in the front freakin’ room.  The hospital may send over a nurse once a day to check up on her, though…that part is cool.

She’s far more aware than she was, but she still can’t walk or poop by herself or anything.  The slightest activity, like talking, exhausts her so much that she sleeps 75% of the time.

Rrrrrr.   I guess we’ll see how this shit rolls out over the next little bit.  The nurse was all like “Well, if anything happens, you can just dial 911″. NINE ONE ONE ON MY COCK, WHORE!  ONE EIGHT SEVEN WITH MY DICK IN YOUR MOUTH, BEEYOTCH!!!!!  I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE THAT SAGE FUCKING ADVICE.  NO TAINTMONGLING SHIT WE CAN DIAL THE PUBLIC EMERGENCY NUMBER IF SHE FALLS INTO ANOTHER GODDAMN COMA. 

Okay, gotta go.  Not really as angry as this post is coming off as.  I mean, I guess her brain must be cool if they’re sending her home.  Now I just gotta call her cancer doc and see what the deal is with getting her started on chemo.  I just wish that she wasn’t straight up refused care because of her monetary status.  I wanna skullfuck the American Medical system so hard that I shatter its eyesocket with my dick.  Ok not really.  Still.  Stabbystabstab x 40 bazillion.

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Awhile back I was trying to talk to Gabby about this old movie where a kid gets hella scared and loses all of his hair.  Through a sequence of events involving ghosts, he learns of a super-potent hair growth formula, and the main ingredient is peanut butter.  He rubs it all over his head and sprouts an amazing shock of aggressive follicles that refuse to stop growing.

His young Asian friend gets very excited about the formula and wipes it all over his genitals, and his pubes grow so much that glossy, black puber-doobers end up swooping out from the bottom of his blue jeans.  He finally gets so frustrated with his pubes’ penchant for productivity that he screams at them, and they finally stop growing.  He teaches his friend this technique and it helps him manage his hair-do.

There’s also a scary bald guy who kidnaps children and shaves their heads so that he can use their hair to create magic paintbrushes.

She didn’t know what I was talking about.  It’s been driving me a bit batty for the last wee bit, knocking around the back of my mind…for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was called.

TODAY, THE MYSTERY IS SOLVED.

It came outta Canada, again illustrating that Canada is an amazing place of cool-climed wonder that I seriously wanna check out someday.  As an added bonus, BSG Fans rejoice:  it stars Colonel Tigh!  Not this stupid one

(lol)

…but THIS ONE.  The COOL one.

This is all very interesting to me.

I would like to apologize for

A - Not getting back to comments (ginnygoblin, you specifically…but everyone else as well)…and, ye verily,

B - for not really posting/reading all that much at all lately.

I haven’t been in the proper frame of mind to formulate/discuss the content I feel the parameters of Splatterblog call for.  I’m not trapped in a fierce lament, by any means…I just don’t have the “oomph” lately.  Work is long.  Hospital is long.  Energy is short.  Most things I have to say would come off as grim, and this blog is Hella Wank Fest 2008 already…also, I am tired of retelling the same stories over and over again.  So I’ve been kinda abstaining on the interactivity front.

On the subject of Madre, she’s still all asleep and quiet and communicating through grunts and such (so sick of her not being up and running again)…she’s had fevers spike up and down, and now she magically has an infection in her head wound from the surgery…but I heard a great story this morning that makes me think she’s coming around.  I don’t wanna share it, because I don’t wish to betray her confidence, but it definitely made me laugh

Hope all is well with you fuckers.   Carry on.

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Mom picked up an infection from the hospital.  She currently has a fever of 102 (down from 107 on Saturday, though).  She is unresponsive and hard to rouse.  She sleeps a lot.

I’m trying to figure out how to keep the finances going, but I just found three credit cards today that I didn’t know about when I paid the bills last month…and they’re all behind.  Since my Parent’s credit is complete crap anyway, I am thinking of having them enter a debt consolidation program.  inb4 OH NO DON’T DO IT IT WILL HURT YOUR CREDIT, because the name of THIS game is keeping the ship afloat…and as I said, the credit is shite regardless.  This isn’t about being able to put a down payment on a yacht later on in life.  I need to keep the fuckin’ power on.

I was discussing the issues with my friends Jawbrok, Samplebitch and Wretchedbabydol over the weekend…and there was a notion discussed that had the potential to fully alleviate the monetary aspect of my familial trials.  My Parents could “Gift” me the home’s equity, and I could use that money as a down payment on a new mortgage for the remaining balance…essentially, it would turn into ME owning their house, with THEM paying a hella reduced mortgage.  Unfortunately, the following facts come into play:

1 - My parents bought the house in 2k1 for $69,000.00

2 - They refinanced two years ago, morphing their new mortgage balance into the Godzilla-level threat of $140,000.00

3 - The current market value of their home is between $101,000.00 and $120,000.00

Negative equity obviates the notion.  No dice on this one, people.  Well, MAYBE…Jawbrok works in finance, and we should be discussing things later this week…maybe figure out if there’s another option available to me.  There doesn’t appear to be one, but it couldn’t hurt to keep your fingers crossed.

What else….lessee…

Oh yeah, I absolutely despise these problems that keep creeping up.  They are tremendous obsidian dicks that want to fuck me in the ass.  I have my guard up, certainly - no despair yet - but I’m seriously getting tired of dodging their strokes.  More seem to swarm every day.  It is difficult to remain rectally celibate when my passage-most-tender is so OBVIOUSLY attractive to these perpetually looming negative forces.  Someone, anyone, save me from all of this cock.

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Look at them jowls. I have miles of cheek available. I should rent out the space, make some extra scratch.

Unrelated: I honestly don’t even know what I’m meant to do with myself at the moment. Spiritually, work-wise, etc. I kind of get the general sense that things are just going day to day. I don’t really have any room to plan in, either - with the possible exception of one sphere Samplebitch and I are fucking around with, and what form THAT shall ultimately take, if any, I can only guess at…BUT IT’S AN EXCITING NOTION SO FAR. It is the coolest thing outside of Gabby still loving me that I got going on at the moment, because everything else is either

A - Mad Boring

B - Hella Stressful

C - Fully Impossible

D - Totally Terrifying

E - Assrape McFuckerbutt

WOAH. Hold on there, buddy boy. This post is coming across way-ay-HAY more emo than I intended when I opened the Wordpress update dialog. SO. I need to say that I am most decidedly NOT depressed at the moment…just kinda lost as to what my next step should be. My long term goals seem rather locked in form, and not in the shape I ever meant them to take. I am trapped in a realm devoid of options…but I think a bunch of you could probably say the same. “Life is what happens when we try to make other plans“, as some poetic bag of salty dicks has said. You just gotta deal with shit as it comes, and hope for the best. The future won’t always be clear - if it ever really was to begin with.

It just seems that so many things need my attention, and I’ve already had a massive, heaping helping of utter fuckin’ fail heaved onto me by some of them. Just not sure what I should be focusing on outside of my Mother, this new Project, and trying to find the gumption to clean my office…and work. Always, always work. As much as I can until things either get better or the forced attention across all of these disparate topics divides my mind into independent shards and I digivolve into a whole other type of monster. Scary stuff.
I feel that if I could focus that I’d be in a better headspace. I’ve been hearing that adult ADD isn’t a myth, but I don’t wanna douche out and blame all my problems on some silly condition…when I know that at least 75% of the current woes outside of my Mom’s health have been borne from my all-consuming, ever-ravenous laziness. Not feeling worth a toot at my job doesn’t help the situation, and that’s definitely a sphere where I have not been lazy, so maybe that isn’t the full length and breadth of what’s going on. It’s hard to say.

Regardless: I need the future to be an electric thing, hot to the touch and crackling with dynamic current. I need options. I can’t get too old inside. It would obviate the point.

Enough introspection. Back to my soldiering.

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