Tuesday, February 24, 2015

155

Just finished and shipped off story 155 of The One-Thousand! If I had any hair, I'd be able to feel the wind in it! This one was a shortie that I conceived of yesterday and finished today. It's a story that would be perfectly at home at Beware the Hairy Mango (though it's twice as long as most of those) and I'm sending it to a very non-Mango magazine. Actually, every magazine is a very non-Mango magazine.

In the last five days, I've written or finished three stories and submitted seven. Golly!

Sunday, February 22, 2015

154

Finished and sent out story 154 of The One-Thousand today! This one is a sort of war story that was mostly finished last year. I pulled it out, tweaked and modified it a bit, and shipped it out into the world.

Godspeed, little doodle!

Friday, February 20, 2015

153

Yay! I wrote story 153 of The One-Thousand this evening! I haven't finished a story since November. Probably because I'm working on so many Mango scripts.

153 is a sort of time-travel thing about attitude and regret. It's an 80s story, probably because I've been caught up in the eighties for the past week, starting with watching Top Secret! clips last week, and ending with watching Better Off Dead (for the hundredth wonderful time) last night. Maybe having written the story will shake me out of the 80s thing. Maybe not.

The Kickstarter is still on. It's been a bit too mellow for my comfort the past couple of days. Consider kicking in and/or telling your friends. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/189894541/hive-five

Thanks!

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Help Me Write A Novel!

Hey, gang! I'm stoked to have a chance at writing the type of thing I love this spring: a funny, crazy science fiction novel. It's called Hive Five and it's about a hive mind that's not very good at being a hive mind. Here's the opening:

 Everyone was covered in either blood, kisses, or barbecue sauce. 

 Sammy's Recipe for Barbecued Chaos: 

 1. Decide you want a nice little party at your house. 

 2. Forget for a moment that you're part of a hive mind with fifty-six other people. Not a very good hive mind, admittedly, but good enough that those fifty-six other people simultaneously decide they want a nice little party . . . at your house. You do have the biggest yard in the treeborhood, of course, nearly an entire limb to yourself ever since you convinced the Umumwei family there was such a thing as a cybernetic squirrelfestation thanks to the loan of your friend Barry's Travelling Squirrel Zoo, some manufactured doodads from your garage forge, and a hot glue gun. The Umumweis folded up their house and moved it two levels down that same afternoon. 

 3. Allow your now enormous party to be crashed by the rest of the treeborhood who, for some reason known only to God's Clone, have become more affectionate than spawning salmon at a grizzly bear swingers party. 

 4. Remind yourself you have to get better at creating metaphors, but in your defense there is a half-love, half-fistfight free-for-all going on in your yard at the moment.

Tell me that doesn't look like fun! Here's where you can help. I need to raise the money so I can crank this out in three months and get the finished novel into your hands this summer. Besides the book, you can also get cool rewards, like a personalized episode of Beware the Hairy Mango, a ringtone of my voice, having a character named after you, and more!

Check out my page here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/189894541/hive-five

And my video right here:

Friday, January 30, 2015

Good Testicle News



Went to the doctor today and had the staples removed from my scrotum. That was a great physical relief, but what was a great emotional relief was the doctor telling me that everything was healing normally. What I thought was a refilling of fluid into my drained left baggie is actually just my swollen left testicle. So it only looks exactly like my original problem wasn't solved, but became more painful. My lefty testis feels larger than a goose egg, but the doc assures me that the swelling will go down. In three weeks. At least Tom Brady likes them.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Review: The Ultimates 2, Vol. 2: Grand Theft America


The Ultimates 2, Vol. 2: Grand Theft America
The Ultimates 2, Vol. 2: Grand Theft America by Mark Millar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



I really needed this after volume 1. I felt relief long before the ending, seeing the heroes getting their teeth kicked in. That was bad enough that the comeback of this pile of dicks made me happy. Great art, twists and turns, but it did get to the point where the "tough-guy killer line of dialogue" was beginning to grate. Very entertaining stuff.



View all my reviews

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

All The Reasons I've Been Down

I must admit I've been depressed since I realized the surgery may not have worked. If I see the doctor when my stitches are taken out, I'll share my concerns. Otherwise, I'll see him at the scheduled post-op visit next week.

I've also been down because I read a bit of a downer of a graphic novel, "Ultimates 2, Vol. 1," which is a great story, but reinforces many of my feelings of freedoms being restricted and this sort of new rat race we've created in which we're all struggling to be seen in the new economy.

Then there's the news. I haven't watched the news in years and I recently got off of Facebook and Twitter in part to avoid all the downer news, but I'm still getting information through my blog feeds. Here's the thing. On the one hand, the bad things we see are really happening and people are suffering greatly every day. On the other, we only hear about the bad things. It is the job of a news agency to get us to look at their stuff, and they will do whatever it takes to do that, especially scare the shit out of us.

I don't think you're a bad person if you avoid the suffering, because the Suffer Showcase is way skewed against reality. There are also plenty of wonderful things happening, people making love, people helping each other, people learning exciting things. News shows and blogs save that shit for the last thirty seconds or the sidebar, down near the bottom ("Look, there's a squirrel waterskiing!"), either to keep their viewers from killing themselves or to suggest some insane concept of balance. Fuck those newsies.

The other thing I was down about (Jesus, there's more?) is my lack of desire to write yesterday. I did finish a Mango script and doodled on another, but that's it. I had expected to get lots more done.

Having said all that, there were some good things yesterday and I'm feeling better today. I made it through the rain like Barry Manilow.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

A Bad Feeling

Today was the first time I could really grab hold of my left nut without pulling away due to pain. It does not seem substantially smaller. I'm hoping I didn't go through this mess for no reason.

Monday, January 26, 2015

Totally Tubular

Today things are better.

I've taken three Percocets in the last few days. As I mentioned in an earlier post, painkillers have made me nauseous in the past and I avoid them. But a nurse on Friday insisted I would want something strong for today when the doctor removed the drainage tube from my scrotum. So I got my prescription (walking around CVS like Fred Sanford) and asked the guy at the counter what I could do to alleviate the sicky. He said to take it after eating. So I tested one that day (Saturday). It went okay. I tried one yesterday because Saturday went well and I'm not enduring pain because I want people to think I'm tough. I took one this morning for the tube-tearing.

You're not supposed to operate heavy machinery on Percocet and I realized why. You don't get this feeling like, "I'm a bit sleepy." You get a feeling like, "I'm about to pass out." It comes on fast and out of the blue.

Anyway, I went to the doctor's office, he pulled the tube as nonchalantly as if it was a magic trick. ("What's this behind your scrotum? It's a shiny new coin!") I barely felt it. It hurt just a tiny bit more getting the stitches yanked. Never trust a nurse who doesn't have a scrotum. I got a little gauze pad to block my juice hole.

I go back Friday to get the staples removed. No more painkillers for me. I'm feeling a lot better, anyway. Now it's mostly about healing up so I don't spill out all over the floor when I lift something heavy at work next week. I'm washing clothes now and soon I'll be taking my first post-op shower. My jockstrap smells like it's come out of winter storage from a giant's asshole. I'm going to grab some underwear snugger than boxers and just stick a feminine hygiene pad done there. Hopefully my hole will glue itself up soon.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Spongebloodbath

I was in pain all day yesterday after the operation. My son summed up my thoughts by quoting Dean Venture from the "Are you there, God? It's me, Dean." episode of The Venture Brothers. Dean has to deal with testicular torsion in that episode: "Suddenly it just felt like someone kicked me in the rocks, and—and they never took their foot away!"

Last night I took off my bandages to wash up and change them. Someone at the surgery center told me I have to see the doctor on Monday to have some tube removed and I have to take sponge baths until then. I had an idea about what I would see under those bandages. My balls, of course, But I was under the impression there would be a small incision in my scrote seam and my sweet potato would have been removed through laparoscopic surgery. No sweat!

Under my boxers I wore a jockstrap, one size too small, I'm assuming to keep everything up tight and snug against me. Beneath that was a sort of ball-holding sling that was stuck to me through the magic of medical adhesives. I'm a very hairy guy. Medical people who stick things to me seem to feel it's a big hassle to shave the hair off first. It took about fifteen minutes of slow painful peeling. Slow is better than quick, by the way. Daniel Ariely looked into it. The mind doesn't take duration into account when gauging pain. Finally removing the sling, I found an assorted collection of absorbent materials which were all engorged with blood. Then I saw my scrotum. It was no small incision. It had been sliced open from stem to stern. There were stitches and staples. Healing is going to take longer than I thought. Then I started dripping.

As I washed myself, blood dripped onto the bathroom floor steadily, I stuck a few paper towels between my legs, and big gobs of jellied blood came off of my junk, looking like a heavy menstrual flow. I tried to poo, since my hospital gear was off, but I didn't want to force, for fear that my bag would rip open and I'd be bobbing for testicles in the toilet water. Finishing up my wash, I found what I figured was another piece of adhesive stuck to my undercarriage. I pulled it, with no luck, then tried to feel where it was stuck to my skin. It wasn't stuck to my skin. It went under my skin. then I realized this was that tube the doctor is removing on Monday. Glad I remembered before I tugged even harder. It took a little while to get myself clean, then a little while longer to get the bathroom clean.

This is good lunch reading, isn't it?

Friday, January 23, 2015

I'm Fine

Hey, folks. Surgery went well. Everything's cool. It doesn't even hurt much. I'm pretty tired, because I'm a night person and I had to get up at 5 am. Also maybe,  lingering anesthetics?  Anyway, I'll probably get some napping in.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Let's Talk About My Balls

I'm kidding, of course. I'm only discussing my left ball. Within the larger sack, there's sort of a little baggie around each of a man's testicles. Fluid flows through these, doing whatever fluid does. Well, in my left baggie, fluid has been going in and not going out. From the outside, it seems like my left nut has swollen to the size and shape of a small sweet potato. (Mmmm . . . sweet potatoes . . . ) If it was out rolling around on the dinner table, I wouldn't even be able to get my hand around it. My fingers wouldn't touch.

As you might imagine, it can be uncomfortable and sometimes painful. So, while I'm still able to wear pants, I'm having something done about it. I'm going under the knife tomorrow morning. I figured my urologist could just stab my scrotum with one of those pointy Capri Sun straws and then poor street kids could play in the resulting spray as a way to beat the Florida heat. But apparently, it's not like that at all.

I don't do pain killers, as they make me nauseous. I got through the recovery for my last hernia without any drugs. I'm not saying that if my arm is torn off in an electric cord fight, I won't risk the nausea, mind you. But my friend tells me his vasectomy really wasn't that painful. His scrote did fill up with blood until it resembled a black grapefruit though. (Mmmm . . . black grapefruit . . . )

I only live a couple of miles from the hospital and since I pretty much live alone these days, I think it's dumb to ask somebody to pick me up and drive me there, so I'm going to walk there. I won't be walking back home later, though. Those medical types won't let you leave without a ride. They don't even want you staying home by yourself for the day that you have the anesthesia. Someone must have gone on an adventure once. I've never had anything that good. So I'll be hanging with my kids for the day and maybe we'll dine on sweet potatoes and grapefruit.

A lady I worked with asked me if I was nervous. Surgery doesn't make me nervous. In fact, dying on the table would probably be the absolute best way to go. "He died peacefully in his sleep while poor street children played in his human spray." Who wouldn't want that? 

Saturday, January 17, 2015