Don't worry...the chemicals we use don't have any side effects...

Famous last words from the lab tech Friday. Don't be fooled. While I may not be peeing in glow in the dark colors, to say that my body has been off all weekend would be the understatement of the year. I imagine that this is what having that "not so fresh" feeling must be like.

Anywho, another weekend of insomnia and low energy fun has came and went. The highlight of the weekend was the Baseball Pizza Party that I had with Greg Diasshole. I decided that Round Table Pizza couldn't be that much worse for me that radioactive chemicals, so we got a large pie and some breadsticks and watched Cody Ross go deep twice as the Giants took game 1 from the Phillies in the NLCS. More importantly than the game or the pizza, Greg was the first guest of my own I've had since moving into my grandparents apartment as a result being sick. While the apartment really isn't all that big, and I'm long past the age of wanting to throw ragers in any of my living spaces, it changed the atmosphere of living here. Don't get me wrong, the apartment is nice, comfortable, and I am not complaining about the situation I am lucky enough to be in at this time (because who the fuck knows what I'd be doing without it), but it most definitely isn't my own place, and I wouldn't feel right subjecting my grandparents to the rough and tumble socialization that often is a bi-product to my friends and I being us. It's amazing what a good friend, some junk food, and decent baseball can do to one's PMA.

Other than that, I'm another fun holding pattern of waiting for someone with the answers to find time to let me know what those answers are. Would it kill a hospital to have someone stick around these test sites that can offer insight or even decode data so the sit around and wait while puking time gets cut way down?

Speaking of which, if the HIDA Scan yields no results that lead to action, I have no idea what I am going to do with myself. I have been left to sit around and twiddle my thumbs between bathroom visits since August and I'm at the end of my rope. If all that fucking agony and pain was for nothing, I'm going to need to be put in a straightjacket and locked in a rubber room. Yes ladies, I get that childbaring is gnarly, and I'm not trying to get into a "who's pain is worse" pissing contest, but Friday morning was fucked up. I just now have started to feel all right.

So basically the rest of this week is one giant countdown until Friday at noon. Extreme conditions call for extreme responses, and in this case, I am so sick and stressed that Southern California looks like good times. It will be nice to give myself a break, my grandparents a break, recharge the batteries, and return inspired for getting the new plan in life rolling.

Show you a good time

I swear I haven't always been a negative bitch about everything. For the most part, I am pretty easy going and dare I say relatively optimistic most of the time. After last night's uplifting rant, I've decided to talk about some of the things that are actually going pretty well for me even though I spend a lot of time on or at least near the crapper.

First and foremost, without the family I have, I would be fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked right now. I'm talking living on the Mandela Parkway median high as balls on crack, shitting myself while pushing a shopping cart fucked. My grandparents have graciously let me take over their guest room, eat their food, ruin their bathroom (my grandpa's bathroom at least, no one goes in my grandma's bathroom but her. That place is cleaner than Singapore.), taken me to ensure various doctors' around Oakland's Beemers stay paid for, dealt with my less than positive outlook on life/mood, let me drive their cars, and generally been beyond supportive when really, no one has had to be. My parents don't live super close to me, but have been there for both difficult and hilariously uplifting conversations. My mom accompanied me to a particular doctor's office for a visit she insisted would be informative yet difficult for me (I just wanted to clip the guy in the teeth). My dad has been a source of calm and inspiration throughout all this. Some of you may read that and go "So?", but those of you who ever saw my dad at a Blue Nova show or during Concours week or just generally understand the "Zen of Pressman" understand how important that is to me (love you dad). My brother Andrew and Raina, his lady, have blown through the Bay on tour a few times this summer and have entertained me with their folk scene antics and weirdo tour mates. Andrew has also adopted the care-free, Austin, Texas easy-going attitude which has helped cool me out more than a few times this summer. My cousin Lori keeps me full of killer chicken soup when she's not jetting off to Argentina or Turkey for the week. Cousins Jon and Tony risked life and limb to have a beer at Eli's while I was djing in August.

Friends. There are a shit load of you and you all do various things to help me get by. Jav, Chase, Boo Boo, Sunny, Greg, Markley, Tara, Paisley, Lauryn, Jaime, Bryan, Danielle, Marcus, Cang, Anna Marie, Jasons H and R, Jose, Matt W, Jon and Erica, Alex, Jimmy Jazz, Adrian, Kyle, Jon S, Leah...yeah I probably left someone off. Doesn't mean I love you any less. Without you all, I would have given up a while ago.

So yeah...shit is grim right now. Grimmer than Kyle Bourne's iPod. Sometimes it colors my world dark as fuck. But even at it's worst, when the pain is excruciating, the vomit is extra sour, the fever rages, and the feces feel like liquid hot magma, I really don't lose sight of how good I do have it.