The great lunch meat conspiracy (and other random crap)

Hot dogs and baloney, or bologna for the more sophisticated sandwich aficionado, are the same damn thing! The only difference is that one accidentally got flattened under some meat packer's boot and violà, baloney. I'm talking conspiracy here, folks, possibly of Oscar Mayer proportions. At the very least, we are at a Hormel level meat alert. These same corporations, or "Big Meat" as I call them, also think that they can pass off baloney that got peppercorns stuck in it as salami. Oh, the humanity! Hey, one other thing, why can't you peel off that damn red thing around my lunch meat? Sometimes I am too lazy to do it myself and I've ingested the ring on occasion. Was this the real cause of my cancer? I say, probably, with a chance of hardly, but "yes" all the same. It makes me feel better to think so. I still can't quit you. Stay gold and meaty for me, my loves.

On to other things.....

I am such a good, good boy. I did my taxes while I have been off of work with the nue moan yah! As for the pneumonia, I am better. I don't know how much better I need to be, but I am doing pretty damn fine. Work awaits: The Grunt needs his monkey job. Besides, if I am not there who will my boss watch work?

If I am going to be able to read entire novels again, I need to hire a helper monkey to poke me with a stick every time I start to drift off.

If you are a server/waiter and want to get bigger tips take this tip from me: limp.

Are you aware of the so-called reptilian alien master-race that has infiltrated the highest levels of society? Me neither, until I have had the time to waste on Youtube this past while. My advice to those who are in fear of these shape-shifting creatures: Befriend Eskimos and join the Polar Bear club. Remember, reptiles are cold-blooded and probably would not be involved in these social circles. If they did, just look for the person with the most coats on. Bingo! There's your reptile.

This has been your weekly blog post. This is Theodore Grunt the III signing off. Thanks for your continued support.

Knowing is healing

I just received this photo of my sister Bonnie and her boyfriend Jack from him. This was taken when she was healthy and happy at a charity event. This was the life that I envisioned my sister having again after rehab. Of course, as you have all read on several occasions, the outcome was not as we had hoped.

The reason for this post is not that I feel I need to keep living in this tragedy. I write this post because it helps me grieve. It helps me to see that my sister was happy and beautiful and not a horrific addict or corpse. It is also important, I feel, to show that addiction can take down anybody and is not a respecter of persons.

The final death certificate was released for Bonnie. This waiting to find out how she died and why had a great deal to do with my heavy grief. I have felt enormous responsibility for the events because a brother is supposed to be there for his sister. I wasn't there at the very point that she needed me the most. Of course, this feeling has nothing to do with the constraints of reality, but it is the feeling that I have had to deal with nonetheless.

A mixed intoxication of Zanax and alcohol caused my sister's death. It helps to know this because I was worried that she might of suffered while she passed. I also worried that she committed suicide. It shouldn't matter because of the duress she was under, but it helps me to know that she wasn't intent on leaving me behind. The biggest help of knowing is that this was something that could have happened even if she was staying with family. My sister had a habit of mixing alcohol and her prescriptions. Whether it was to get more loaded or just carelessness, it doesn't matter; it happened. I couldn't have stopped this from happening. The simple fact is that she probably had no idea that she was dying and simply drifted away.

Bonnie had a hard life. It wasn't easy growing up in my family. All of us kids have had our own ways of medicating. Some of us overcame it and some of us still try to fill that hole. I am starting to see, that despite her disease, she really was a role model for me. She took the risks that she felt were going to lead her to a happy life. It doesn't matter that she fell during her journey--she fought the whole way. Knowing this is healing.

Where did it go?

I am no longer funny. Funny looking, maybe, but not hi-larry-us. I do have my off the cuff moments still, but I cannot craft much of the funny anymore. It's not that my outlook has become bleak after surviving cancer, trying to help my sister in her strive for sobriety, losing her, and all the other seriously hard stuff that surrounded it all. My reality has shifted in a way that I cannot explain.

I have accepted much of what has happened; although, I do find it inconceivable at times that my sister is dead. I have this weird sensation, that spelled out, sounds rather pessimistic on the face: There's not much in this world that really matters. The weird part about it is that this feeling is rather liberating. Now, only if this feeling came with a pension fund.

I'm probably talking out of my ass here, but I figure that being able to talk out of my ass in any language is pretty remarkable, fuck!

What's so new about pneumonia?

Wow, my life has been a bowl of cherries! Yeah, that "cold" that I got three weeks ago has been officially diagnosed by my doc as pneumonia. I was starting to wonder why my lungs were getting all stiff and hurty. Actually, the whole experience resembled the symptoms of my lymphoma and it made me feel a tad paranoid. Anyway, I am feeling better since getting some much needed antibiotics and rest. I hope to be finally done with this crap soon.

Your randomness

There's this lady who can't get herself a man because she is very ugly. She decides to consult a fortune teller to see what the future holds for her and see if there is any hope that she will get a man. The fortune teller sees something and proceeds to tell the woman that she will have many men in her next life, as she will be quite beautiful. Somewhat distraught by this prospect, she is determined to end her lonely life and get on with her next incarnation. So, she finds a bridge spanning a big river and jumps off. Without realizing, she falls safely onto a pile of bananas on boat. Still dazed by the fall she excitedly shouts, "One at a time boys! One at a time!"

I swear that I am going to sell off some of my musical gear. I don't like the fact that all signs are pointing to me becoming a hoarder, if I don't act fast. I always say that I am going to get rid of stuff and then I look into those puppy dog eyes of my gadgets and let them stay. Please, God, help me.

My Netflix queue is sending me a bunch of foreign films. I know that I was the one who put them on the queue in the first place and that I could change the queue. But I feel like it is my duty to carry out the viewing of my queue as it has been initially organized. It is fate, I feel, that made me choose this queue. However, I am getting weary of reading movies now. On the plus side, I can act like a film snob, having viewed most of Ingmar Bergman's films. Yeah, that will get me laid.

That is all for now. Good day.