*See first paragraph*

"Get some sour cream and onion chips with some dip, man, some beef jerky, some peanut butter. Get some Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars, a whole lot, make sure chocolate, gotta have chocolate, man. Some popcorn, red popcorn, graham crackers, graham crackers with marshmallows, the little marshmallows and little chocolate bars and we can make s'mores, man. Also, celery, grape jelly, Cap'n Crunch with the little Crunch berries, pizzas. We need two big pizzas, man, everything on 'em, with water, whole lotta water, and Funyons." - Half-Baked

I intended for that to be the title of this blog post, in a subtle homage to Fiona Apple "When the pawn..." but alas Blogger cockblocked my attempt. Bitches.

So I just spent an hour arguing with my dad over whether or not he should get medical Cannabis. (At this point, I have to point out that the image on that website is four people who make their living thanks to weed. Beautiful.) As a cancer patient (who is in chronic pain, I might add, thanks to his uber-enlarged liver. Also, he isn't sleeping at night anymore because of combined pain and nerves) he would qualify for medical marijuana to help with pain management and to help with the side-effects of his impending chemotherapy. Did I use these reasons to argue my point to my father? Nope. Instead, I went with the catch-phrase approach: "Cancer? Try Chronic!" "If somebody told me I had terminal cancer you best believe I'd be tokin' the good shit." and my personal favorite "Fuck terminal illnesses, dad, get the Ganja." Surprisingly, none of my quips got the point across to him. I think my next approach will be exposure therapy to repeated playings of "Purple Haze." If that doesn't get him, I might have to throw in the towel here. Of course, my dad's arguments back to me were equally pathetic...things like "no" or "haha". The battle rages, I think.

I legitimately think my dad needs something to manage his pain because I share a Macaulay trait with him: we don't express our pain. If we are in pain, we rarely show it. (Ask any of my friends who have had to drag me to the hospital, like Nicole, for instance). Since being home today, my father has only gotten off of the couch to go to church with my mom and I, but otherwise he just lays there, wincing when he moves. To the untrained eye, he appears to just be lazing about on a Saturday afternoon, an endeavor that would not be held against him, even without cancer, but to those who know him, he is in a lot of pain and showing it. It would be a lie to say that it didn't trouble me. But, what can I do? The answer, of course, is not much. Still praying, still researching, still making myself better, but when coming face to face with stuff like this, it forces a reality check.

While being home, I can't relegate the troubles here to a distant part of my world, only letting them tickle the outer limits of my law school calm, like reeds on a lake causing tiny ripples, barely visible at the center of the water. I feel, at once, eager to return to the glassy surface on my proverbial lake in Lansing, and a strong pull to be here in Saginaw, providing a level attitude. My mother is still not herself, and my dad is starting to show his true feelings (something that is very unlike him or me). It is an unfortunate situation here at the Macaulay stronghold, but, as usual, we will keep on keeping on. This coming week, like all coming weeks, will be full of challenges, but I am confident that my father, mother, and I will face them head on and find support when/where/if we need it.

To finish this on a happy note, because I'll be damned if I write a post that is purely devoted to my concerns like some pussy emo bitch that wears black nail polish or like some emo dude who listens to Panic! at the Disco (you know who you are, haha), I call to attention, again, the fact that there is a website devoted entirely to legal marijuana in Michigan (sweeeeeeeet, man). Also, the music used for the Olympics promo about ice dancing? Lady MOTHERFUCKING Gaga! Seems inappropriate, but I'll take my Gaga when I can. Bitches.

"I'm just a love machine and I won't work for nobody but you"

First, I must say, that I am blogging robot. I have blogged a lot in the past week, I tell you.

Anywhichway, today I bowled for the second time this week. I subbed on a team with a group of new friends that I made. A few of the team members were acquaintances of mine prior to tonight, but before my bowling experience, I would not have considered any of these people as 'friends.' Unsurprisingly, though, all it took was a pitcher of beer, some serious laughs, and TONS of inappropriate humor and I now find myself with a bunch of new BFFs. It is here that I shall branch into the meat of this blog post: my ability to make immediate friends.

For most of my young life, I challenged myself to never be introverted, to thrust myself into social situations headfirst, and through my tooth and nail approach to relationships, I have made lots of friends in my day. Now, as an adult (in the eyes of the law, at least), this skill rarely lets me down, and has given me a seemingly infinite network of people to rely on and places to travel. My life is full of love and friendship and I feel blessed every day for the people I know and the relationships that I have. It is nights like tonight that remind me how many blessings I can find in my surroundings.

Now, by this point, if I were reading this blog post, I would presume that there is a giant "BUT" coming. And usually your intuition would be correct, but tonight, I am going to go for broke and just leave you on a positive note, reader. No matter the adversity, no matter the shit storm flying your way, blessings are not so hard to find, if you look in the right places.

(don't worry, I'll get dark again by my next post, I'm sure)







Bitches. (There. Happy? Good. Me too.)

Nacqui all'affanno

So last night, Elle and I made a 4th meal run, as is typical on Mondays, and while at Taco Bell this happened:

Order Box (OB): Hi welcome to Taco Bell, how are you tonight?
Me: I'm well thank you, how are you?
OB: Good. Go ahead with your order when you're ready.
Me: Ok, let's see I think I want...
OB: (in a man's whisper) burritos
Me: Actually, yes, a 5-layer burrito, and 3 cheese roll-ups...
OB: (in a man's whisper) gordita crunch
Me: ...and a cheesy gordita crunch. What else do you have, Miss Cleo?
OB: *silence*
Me: Ok, so also a double decker supreme.

When I went up to pay, nothing was said about the omniscient voice, but I blog about it here, today, so that it can be notice to the world. Taco Bell employs psychics, and they sound strangely like a shitty Dane Cook joke.

Special sauce all over my pussy. And, yes, I am ashamed that I remembered that reference without having to Google it. Stupid Dane Cook.

"I am very sensitive to people's energy, so I meet new people and get exhausted"

As is typical, I have forsaken the blog for a while. I recently read an article saying that blogging was considered "uncool" by the younger generation. To this I say: shut up little kids. Bitches.

Anyway, now that that is out of the way, it is time to proceed to the subject of my blog: Drag Queens.

You might as yourself, "What is he talking about Drag Queens for?" and you will have to read the remainder of the blog to find out. My last semester really flew by without much of a hitch. I got some grades, most of which were good and satisfying for me. I made the Dean's List and Honor Roll (because I'm pretty sweet). And I, generally, have been riding pretty high.

Until...

A few weeks ago, my dad called me to tell me about my grandpa getting his heart valve replaced. The replacement went very well, and my grandpa remains in pretty good health, all things considered, and he now the proud owner of a brand new heart valve. In this same call, my father let me know that he was having some medical problems of his own.

He drove himself to the hospital, (because my mom had to play tennis that morning...classic) thinking that he had appendicitis, complaining of side pain. When he arrived they did a physical exam then took and x-ray and found a lump growing in his chest. After a CT scan, a Dr. friend of ours gave him a tentative diagnosis of lung cancer. A needle biopsy confirmed the presence of cancer in his chest, and also on his liver (explaining the side pain). My father, being the intelligent man that he is, got a second opinion. My father and mother went to University of Michigan for said second opinion, and the lung cancer specialist there informed my father, without seeing the scans, that it is more likely that he had thymus cancer, a particularly rare form of cancer that is very rarely researched and has never been cured. Long story short: my father has Thymoma. It has already metastasized to his liver and he starts chemotherapy this coming week. Now for pros and cons.

Pros:
- My father is in very good shape for his age
- He will be able to take more chemo than most cancer patients
- He has a great Oncologist in Saginaw to administer his chemo
- He is under the care of the foremost expert on this type of obscure cancer
- He has beaten cancer twice before (Melanoma and Thyroid Cancer)
- He can fight this for a long time
- After each remission (of which I hope he has many) he will have 6 months to 2 years of remission before having to go under more chemotherapy

Cons:
- His cancer is potentially terminal (largely uncured)
- It is already Stage IV (the final stage)
- It might kill him one day

Neither:
- Life is officially different forever

From here on out, my dad will be a cancer patient. It is still very surreal to admit that fact. My emotions, understandably, have been all over the place for the past week or so but I have finally gotten my mind around this whole thing. Prayer prayer and more prayer is going to be my approach to this whole thing, and thus far, I've been able to hold it together well enough to keep on keeping on. What I am most thankful for is that, aside from my family business going south really quickly, the rest of my life is heading in a grand forward motion. I'm studying, I'm getting decent grades, I'm getting involved, and I'm setting realistic career goals for myself.

This whole experience has already begun to push me. I have a professor whose mother died while she was in law school and she became incredibly motivated to work hard and succeed, because she knew that with her mother sick and dying, there was always someplace (home) that she should be other than law school, so if she was going to be away from home, she had best make it worth her while. I am adopting this motivation technique, however, I am applying it to my whole life. I'm not just going to study more, I am going to live more. I'm putting myself out there. I'm working out. I'm eating healthier. I am becoming a better me.

Already I have become a better version of myself. A version that I like. A lot.

Now, at this point, after the bad news and emo self-reflection, I'm sure you are wondering how the hell is this post about Drag Queens?? Well, you see, in three weeks, my father's hair will be falling out. This, of course, will require some sort of hair replacement. My endeavor, this week, is to find my father the most fantastic Drag Queen wig that the world has ever seen. I am open to suggestions, but as it stands now, I am eagerly shopping online for drag wigs. It will be an epic gift and I will be sure to post pictures once they have become available.

I admit that my segue from illness to shemales is flimsy at best, but would you really have wanted to read the post if I had said the subject was "terminal cancer"? Yeah, me either. Hell, I didn't really want to write it.