I have no shame any more. Trust me, I cropped the worst part out. As I told Zen tonight, I look like Nicole Kidman when she was nine months pregnant. I nearly took a picture of my boy parts but trust me, if they horrify me right now, I can only imagine what they would do to you. I took this picture, because I'm the only man in LA County who would actually show what used to be his abs. It's amazing what a month and a half of no exercise (and lots of sugar) can do. I need Eric (who did the Advocate shoot) to do a nude shoot while I'm this way so I can remember what it was like.
I didn't include my boobs because they too are terrifying.
But now you can see where I was cut (and where the staples are freaking killing me) and where Henry was pulled out. Look painful? It is.
When this whole surgery thing is over, I'm going to be in the best shape of my life.
I love my little fake tree. I can't bring myself to get a live tree. It's just sad to me that a tree grew for years and years and then was cut down to stand in my house and then dry out for a week.
But I have no problem eating meat.
I wasn't thinking fast enough to get a picture of Sheree. Just had lunch with my manager at Hamburger Mary's (because Joey's was packed, but Scott was working and it was nice to see him again). We are trying to get LITTLE DEATH sold and approach Harper Collins about a book deal. I'm going to call it: THE "C" WORD.
3rd Street near Rimpau
This house has dozens of David's in front of it. This time of year they all wear hats. I love the red tree.
I had to pick up the contrast for my CT scan on Tuesday.
I don't remember having to wear a badge when I got Henry removed. But whatever. When I got off on the floor, I wasn't sure where to go. Was it "radiology" or "nuclear." I only confused everyone further when I asked if I was supposed to be in the nuclear wing. And the receptionist had the personality of a traffic cone.
This doesn't look so bad. I have to drink one the night before and one two hours before the CT scan. I guess it lights me up inside. Oh, and I just learned at this time that it will take an entire day to read the scan. Once again, if I were on GREY'S ANATOMY, they would be able to do it immediately.
Special note: it took me over a half hour to walk from the parking deck (across the street) to the office and back. THAT'S how slow I move. I got charged for the full hour.
Putz indeed. This a-hole did a U-TURN in the middle of the street, then flipped me off when I tried to get out of the way. A-hole picked the WRONG guy. I decided to honk, scream and flip him off for the next two miles. I got out of my car at one point. If I had had a bat, I would have beat him.
When arrested, I would have told the cops, "Sorry, I have cancer."
The Americana - Barnes and Noble
These two shelves are the only books on cancer. 85% of them are for women with breast cancer. Apparently men don't read. There are two (2) books on prostate cancer. NONE on testicular cancer.
UPDATE: It's funny - I've already received seven e-mails this morning on book suggestions! What I meant was there were on two books on prostate cancer on THOSE shelves and none on testicular cancer - on THOSE shelves! :)
The book I'm pitching will be aimed at "men with cancer and the people who love them."
My camera sucks. Tara, Tammy and I.
Catie and I. We literally turned around so I could have a picture in two different locations. In the end, I just realized I still had three pics to shoot.
Great little outdoor mall just a mile from me. Easy parking. And it snows. Man made of course. But I have to say when I first saw the flakes I thought, "oh great. Is Glendale on fire too now!?"