The Three Beer Man

Day 21 of being off chemotherapy and I'm still feeling kind of rocky.  I clumsily put a gash in my shin the other day, and who knows when that will heal.  I'm up to walking a mile a day before tiring out, but my head is a little clearer.  I think I will take the extra month off to see if I can get stronger.  The worst feeling in the world is being in a crouching position and not being able to stand up without sitting on my ass and whirling around like a dog to stand up.  I should have my legs in good shape again pretty soon though.

Anyway, enough about me.  I was at the local market the other day to pick up some stuff, and when I went to the cashier, there was a guy ahead of me with a six pack of beer with 3 bottles in it.  He was explaining the the cashier that he didn't like the beer and wanted to return it for a full refund.  The beer was one of those berry tasting craft shit things, so I didn't really blame him, but he had on sandals with black socks, so I figured he'd made his own bed in buying it.

But ... wouldn't you know after drinking one bottle that you didn't like it?  And who the hell returns beer?  The cashier was kind of having a hard time taking it all in, so being the ass that I am, I interrupted the conversation by saying I wanted to check out and they could continue their conversation/argument after I was finished.

I didn't wait around to see if the asshole got his refund, but if he did, I'd like to do the same thing.  I'll buy a bottle of wine, drink 3 glasses and return the one inch left at the bottom of the bottle and ask for a refund because I didn't like it.

I wonder if I could get away with it?  I'm sure people have.

Out Of The Shadows

That's not much of a joke.  Looks like the last time I posted anything was in May.   Something about ducks.   Well, we don't have any ducks anymore.  Nothing much in the way of funny happening around here.   Everyone on the block seems to have the summer doldrums.   Oh ... my next door neighbor, Hillbilly Ron, still brings home the occasional junk, grinds on it for a few days with his little tool that makes a screeching noise, then gets rid of it.  I finally found a way to keep him from stealing the things that I throw out for the trash man.  I have a little hand sledge and I beat everything to unrecognizable  shit before I set it at the curb.

The little bald headed shrimp on the other side of the street has five cars now.   He's single by the way and I have no idea how he keeps insurance on five cars.  He drives a different one every day and invariably pulls it into the garage every night and pulls out his hammer and pneumatic wrench and starts flailing away at some part of it.  To me, it looks like each one of them is a stock car or a piece of shit.

Most of the reason I haven't written much is that I've been going through chemotherapy for 26 weeks.  My last treatment was a week ago and I don't have to go back for two months.  Started out with 5 spots and ended up with three.  So, maybe with more treatments, I'll beat this thing.

The funniest thing about chemotherapy is ... well, nothing.  The only thing is, I seem to be the youngest person there, and I'm 61.  So it's pretty depressing looking at all of these older people taking their treatments.   Most of them are worse off than I am, so I feel pretty lucky.  All I have is fatigue, and the feeling that I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground most of the time.  I've been working all week to get my mojo back and I figure I'll start feeling half way normal in a couple of weeks, when the poison starts to wear off.

Oh, and I made a big decision to get completely off social media.  I cancelled my Facebook page, my Twitter account and my Linked In site.   I decided I didn't like social media.   But of course, I'll always keep this blog, so I guess I'm a bit hypocritical.

And that's about it for me.  If anything even remotely funny happens around here, or I see something weird, I'll be right back on this thing.

Until then ...