Dude, Cancer sucks. I will prove it to you.

Thursday, June 11, 2015


Math time.  Cole recently played 4 baseball games in 4 days.  During those 4 games his batting average was .000, but his on base percentage was .900.  That has to be a record.

Business time.  In a couple of weeks, Baker BBQ sauce will make its official California debut.  If you want to place an order, email me.  If you try to order by commenting on this post, you will likely starve (see Admission time infra).

Awesome kid time.  Ollie is in full blown awesome 3 year old world (full blown awesome 3 year old world is the clinical definition of insanity).  He is well aware of his penis.  He knows that his butt, and the things that come out if it, are both funny and torment his mother.  His command of the English language makes me fall on the floor.

Admission time.  Today I was checking to make sure the interweb was still working by going to my blog’s website.  Did you know that the comments were activated and that I can look at them and see what people have said?  You did?  Well you don’t need to brag about it, because I did not.  So if you commented and I did not respond, please accept my (I would say humble but I don’t think that anyone would buy that) apologies.  In the future I will strive to intentionally not respond to comments so that you can rest assured that my not responding was not due to some oversight.  There.  I feel much better now.

Medical Time.  Cole had been doing a treatment that involved chemo (Chemo is kind of like Saved by the Bell.  You got me through some tough times in my life, but you basically suck the soul.) and some experimental liquid medicine whose properties are kind of magical and if you try and figure out what is in it you run the risk of being banished to the ice penal (heheh I said penal) colony on Zortof, the 3rd moon of the planet Zoroastical.  The treatments were successful in the same way that most of the treatments have been successful.  Cole is not dead.  His cancer has not spread, and Cole could tolerate the med. (read the last two sentences out loud for an added experience).  This is the same treatment that I last described way back in November.  The chemo portion caused his hair to fall out, and caused him to miss one week of school every three weeks (and still got an award for reading more words that all the other kids in the world combined).  We did like 15 or 16 rounds of this treatment.  The result?  A tie.  I know a tie is a win in this game, but I want a F$#@#$$ing full on hoist the trophy win.  Now we are on to a new treatment.  This one, assuming it works, is totes awesome.  The therapy is immuno based therapy.  In this instance the medicine goes in and provides a pep talk similar to the one I gave to the soccer team (see other posts either supra or infra depending on how your browser organizes the blog) to the white blood cells.  Of course the result is the final determination of the awesomeness, or lack thereof, but this treatment already has a high level of awesome because there is no chemo component to it.  That means that if you get a rare look at Cole’s head, sans hat, you will see a darkening that is not because the hat is totally gross and dirty (which it is), but because he is getting fuzzy up there.  Imaging this week after our first full cycle of this treatment.  Stay tuned.

Admission time.  Again.  I am not wearing pants.

Question of the day.  Why is it ok for girls to wear spandex type pants around town but when I do it, suddenly I am that weird guy who makes people uncomfortable?  That is cultural gender discrimination and I will not stand for it.

Drink Time.  Raise your glasses and drink to Cole, who may or may not join the Blue Man Group as an intern this summer.

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