Alright Dammit...

Warning: Non-skate post... but necessary to vent a bit o' apprehension...

What the hell? The chloesterol gods apparently are really pissed. 2 months ago, my Step Mom has a heart attack. Last week, Steve-O joins the club... Now my Dad is attempting to join the ranks. But he's just got a "bad valve" so the surgeons are actually gonna try to keep him off the membership list. But hell, open chest surgery is open chest surgery. Heart attack or no, you still get a gnarly scar to take home! (A rib spreader isn't a utensil you get when you sit down to dinner at Chili's.) I told him he should finally get a tattoo... a zipper on his chest... (How does an ex-firefighter, ex-navy dude get to be 65 without a tattoo anyway?)

SO... keep the thoughts, prayers, and chi a flowin'. Just send 'em to the 3rd floor of Baptist East. There'll be plenty a heart up there who needs it. And it'd be nice if a plethora of well wishes is waiting for ME when I make my trip on the gurney... it's inevitable... 'Cause I'm gonna go home now and have a boloney sandwich with a side of hotdog, smoke a cigarette, and have a beer. Hey honey, how about steak for dinner? With french fries? Yea, that'd be good...