I should of probably gone with the snow monkeys
For the last ten or so minutes I have been desperately trying to figure out what to blog about. The Muse, well, it seems that she’s abandoned me. Speaking of the Muse, the band and not the daughters of Zeus, I’m listening to them right now (Black Holes and Revelations). Anyways, my desperation will soon enough manifest itself in a post based on one of the following:
1) Japanese Macaques (pictured above)
2) I think I’m going to be fired.
3) I’m drinking Bourbon right now. I think beer explains this winter’s weight gain.
4) How I spent St. Patrick’s Day in a hospital while my Father had minor surgery.
2) I think I’m going to be fired.
3) I’m drinking Bourbon right now. I think beer explains this winter’s weight gain.
4) How I spent St. Patrick’s Day in a hospital while my Father had minor surgery.
Before I go on, let it be known that I do very little planning for these blogs. Save for the “Teen Wolf Blitzer” post, absolutely no preparation or research is used in the creation of aninterstellarburst. So if any of my posts feel unpolished or kinetic or incomprehensible - forgive me, it’s simply the nature of how I approach the blog and the “stream of conscious” style in which apply to the posts. For example, while writing the last sentence, I wanted to toss in a parenthesis in which I inform you that I’m not going to do a Japanese Macaque post. No impending unemployment or Bourbon post either. So, St. Paddy’s it is.
My Dad had a tumor removed from his bladder last week in an operation which took less than one hour. Yet for some reason, I spent over six hours hanging around a hospital with my mother. Interestingly enough, they performed the entire operation (a successful one I might add), through his penis. There wasn’t a single incision made, just cameras and medical devices straight up his wiener. And it goes without saying that when he got home, it hurt when he peed. Anyways, he’s sound as a pound now except for the fact that every four months a doctor will stick a camera up his wang again in search of more tumors.
This may sound selfish, but if any of the McClune clan suffered that day it was me. For those of you who don’t know, and that may in fact be all of you, I have a history of panic attacks. And my panic attacks occur mainly in the following places:
1) Public speaking engagements (of which I’m perfectly immune because I do no public speaking).
2) Airplanes (manageable if I bring my Xanax).
3) Hospitals (manageable if I don’t forget my motherfucking Xanax).
2) Airplanes (manageable if I bring my Xanax).
3) Hospitals (manageable if I don’t forget my motherfucking Xanax).
I hate hospitals. I spent the vast majority of my time at Mercy General chain smoking in the courtyard surrounded by signs that read “because we care about your health, smoking is not allowed”. Sans Xanax, I resorted to walking in circles around the parking garage. At one point, I summoned the courage to take an elevator to the 3rd floor waiting room where my mother was only to be confronted with an elderly woman on a stretcher in the same elevator corridor. Naturally, I retreated back outside with my USA TODAY and cigarettes.
The thing about me is this: I have never dealt with death in any real or emotional way. When my grandfather died, I left Lawrence at 1:00 a.m. and made the four hour drive to Oklahoma to attend his funeral. I was certainly sad and I wanted to cry (whatever that means) but I didn’t. And I was surrounded by people crying. But it’s not because I’m tough, it’s because in all honesty, I wasn’t particularly close with him. His death had little or no affect on my life. So am I emotional monster? I don’t think so. I’m simply lucky in the fact that those closest to me, the people in which I have an intimate investment in, have yet to die.
Anyway, that post took an unfortunate turn towards the serious. But here we are.
Jeff, are you enjoying the book. Let me know.
I’m disappointed in this post too (I think I’m going to end every blog with this post script, it seems only fitting).
posted by Ryan McClune @ 7:33 PM
8 Comments:
Hmm, classic McClune blog. I like it. I had no idea about the panic attacks so that was nice info. I am glad everything went well. Is there anyway we could get a second blog on why you think you might get fired or even better, one recounting the horrible jobs that you have had. Two come to mind, the Hotel in Lawrence Kansas that was so horrible you never picked up your paycheck, there was also the time that Ryan and Fox thought they could make good money by spray painting people's street number onto the curb in front of their house.
Ryan, I actually haven't started the book yet. I'm still reading Player Piano (by the late, great Kurt Vonnegut), which is quite good. "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time" (I think that's the full title) is next.
I would actually like to hear about why you think you're losing your job. I'm in a constant state of worry about losing my job.
Also, you left out the part of the hospital story about the Irish Catholic nuns that ran the joint. Very appropriate for St. Patrick's Day.
good ideas for future blogs. as for the status of my employment - my hours were currently reduced and I have the least amount of seniority at job. also, for those who know my employer, its important not to mention it by name. I've heard horror stories about people mentioning their employment on myspace, etc. only to be fired the next day. anyway, my next post will actually involve research and the title will be: Ryan's first boners.
Seriously. It's going to be a history of my penis and it;s relation to late 1980's and early 90's pop culture.
P.S.
if the previos post sounded terrible, its because i just came back from watching the OU basketeball game at a bar with my dad.
i am excited about a ryan penis post
ryan, we are losing people, we need more frequent posts.
Alright, I just received Say Anything from Netflix yesterday. I will watch this movie and decide once and for all which is better.
I have a feeling Say Anything is going to suck balls.
If you like a good eighties love story (and God knows I do), I think you will be very pleased Jeff. Also, the movie has everything: kickboxing, teenage promiscuity, tax evasion, broken hearts, and or course, the song "your eyes" by Peter Gabriel.
By the way, I promise a new post is forthcoming. I've been high on Vicodin for the last four or five days because I have an elbow bursitis. And I really can't be bothered to do anything while on painkillers.
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