I’ve always said that there was only one thing that would keep me from blogging to you wonderful people every day, and that thing happened : I was in the hospital.
Erf. Even thinking about it makes me feel like I am getting sick again.
When last I wrote to you lovely folks, it was last Sunday night, New Year’s Eve 2023, and I was feeling very ill and wondering if I was going to make it to Denny’s with Le Gang.
Nope. I did not make it. It was not to be.
Which really sucked because that’s when we were going to do our little Christmas gift exchange. The timing had been wrong for doing it the week before because that was, of course, Christmas Eve, and so everyone had plans to be with their family except for lil ol me, leaving me alone to mind the store.
Hey you. Store. Mind me. Or else. Grr.
Back to New Year’s Eve. I just kept feeling worse and worse. Chest pains, muscle aches and stiffness all through my body, headache, troubled breathing, dizziness, weakness, and nausea.
You know. The usual gang. Except for the breathing part. That was new.
Not one of the regular players. A seasonal co-star at best.
What decided me on not being able to do Denny’s was, as part of getting ready to go there I had to get up and get a pair of socks, and during that trip I fell twice (thank you, king sized bed, for saving my ass again when the stiffness in my muscles tripped me up) and when I sat back down, my lungs were heaving, I was sweating profusely, my heart was pounding like a bass drum, and I felt like throwing up.
From crossing the room and back. Uh oh. Not good. No way was I going to be able to make it down to the car and into Denny’s and back.
After Joe and Julian had left for Denny’s, I was left sitting here in front of Mister Computer contemplating my options. I added up all the ways I felt bad and finally came to the conclusion that this shit ain’t normal and it was 911 time.
Could have saved the taxpayers some money if I had decided that before J&J left. But I get the feeling that I needed to know Denny’s was going to happen without me first.
I’m weird that way. That, and like millions of other ways.
Anyhoo, I called 911, and before long the paramedics show up, and start doing their thing, taking my vitals and asking me questions and such.
And that’s when the story becomes very “me”, because of course I start cracking jokes and making them laugh like I was at an open mic night.
And brother, I was killing it. I was slaying them. I worked that room like a pro and it felt damned good. One of the paramedics even told me I was a hilariously funny guy.
SCORE. Man, do I need to get back to being a comedian. I’m a natural at it.
And more importantly, on a personal level, was that I had gotten along and made a favourable impression on a group of perfectly ordinary people.
They liked me. They really liked me. And in the bizarre calculus of my social dysfunction, that meant the world and several asteroids to me.
I had managed to not just keep them laughing but actually feel relaxed and good with them, and in my own odd way, i connected with them on a human level.
Just knowing that I can do that now makes me feel so much better about life.
It also made me realize that most of the time, I have been afraid of ordinary people. I guess all I saw in them was a chance to be paralysed by social awkwardness and anxiety and that terrible feeling of abandonment and isolation I feel when I try to reach out to people and totally fail to connect.
But now I know that other things are possible. I can be around ordinary people and not only get along with them, I can make them happy. I can make them like me.
And all through the power of comedy. And being really, really good at it.
More after the break.
Life fucking hates me
To the tune of $250.
Something went wrong during the registration process for my new Post Office brand prepaid credit card, and now I can’t use it without an access code it is sending to an email address that does not exist, and there doesn’t seem to be a way for me to fix it.
Which means whoever is running this credit card thing has $250 of my money I can never use.
I am not defeated yet. I will figure something out. These fuckers are going to pay, one way or another.
But good God is life fucking me over lately. First with not being able to blog due to ANOTHER website sending confirmation codes that never get to me, then not being able to order stuff via Skip the Dishes, and now this crowning clusterfuck.
All this after coming home from being in the hospital for pneumonia.
I mean, what the flaming fuck, 2024? What did I ever do to you?
Needless to say, I feel very put-upon. Life is really testing my patience and resilience. All I wanted to do was come home and resume my life after four days in Richmond Hospital, and instead I get beset with troubles both vexing and bizarre.
It’s getting to the point where I feel pissed off and paranoid all the time. I can’t just relax and enjoy myself doing anything, even playing a video game, because in the back of my mind I am still silently fuming over my fate.
Oh, one more thing : tried to order my dream CPU last night.
Surprise! A wild import fee appears! It attacks and hits you for $120!
And I have only given Joe $300 on deposit and the order is now going to come out to a total of around $450 CDN so, no CPU for me this month.
I don’t have another $150 to give him, especially with $250 being held hostage by that credit card. If it wasn’t for that, I might be able to swing it.
But even if I get the card working, I can’t just pay Joe $150 with it, as far as I know.
Maybe I can use it to deposit money on my Amazon America account. I dunno.
To sum up : I am one pissed off customer. And I just want my goddamned life back.
I will talk you nice people again tomorrow.