Follicular Cancer Lady - Chapter 15: Cancer Lady Takes the Gold!

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Chapter 15
"Cranky, Crying, Cancer Lady Takes the Gold!"
8/27/04

I had a hard time thinking of what to write about this time. I thought, what has happened in the past two weeks that could possibly be funny? Well I can only work with what I got folks so here it is…

I cry a lot (I know, it's so hilarious you can't stand it right?) But I really will cry a torrent of tears over nothing. I lost my place in my book--tears. The light bulb burnt out--tears. Swede Christian Olsson takes gold in triple jump--tears. Sappy Visa commercial about a lost puppy--nothin'. (You need to rethink your ad campaign when even I don't shed a tear.)

I think mostly I cry because I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated because I physically and mentally don't feel like myself. It's hard to explain. My brain doesn't work right and I have just enough energy to want to do something while at the same time I don't have the energy or ambition to do it. I actually have arguments with myself all the time.
"You DO have the energy, get UP you lazy cow!"
"No you don't, it just took you five minutes to figure out which end of your chapstick opens"
It's like the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other. Except in my case the Steph on one shoulder is dressed and ready to go and the Steph on the other side is lying on the couch in pajama pants. Whoever wins the argument rewards herself with a nap.

I've been watching the Olympics a lot lately and feeling bad that I'm not an athlete. Then last night, I finished my pint of chocolate sorbet and thought, they just don't have my events! I mean, if the decathlon included events like: Who can make the best joke about the triple jump, synchronized staring, and the crying contest, I would really have a chance! In synchronized staring, pairs of contestants would stare at each other to the beat of energetic yet wholesome techno music. And in the Crying Competition, athletes would be exposed to various situations such as a jar that won't open, then judged on the form, decibel and length of their cry. (You get bonus points if you can remember what you started crying about in the first place.)

With those events I'd really have a shot at gold! As a matter of fact, instead of feeling bad about myself for sitting around, I'm now going to say I'm in training. These aren't pajamas--this is my UNIFORM. Yeah that's right. I'm in training for the day when making jokes and crying are part of the fine Olympic tradition. I will be the Mary Lou Retton of my own Olympics. I can hear the commentators now: "Well Bob, that last joke showed good form but I'm not sure it had the follow through the judges need to see and she didn't stick the landing…Wait! WHOA! 9.8!!!! That's gonna be a gold Bob!! She's putting on her fuzzy slippers for the victory nap now!! The crowd--is--going--wild!!!"

So if someone out there is looking for a world-class team of crying, cranky, sleepy athletes, well, put me in coach because I AM READY!

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