Now that has to be a stroke of bad luck. I’m in hospital once more after a severe bout of abdominal / chest pains very early this morning. After chugging down 3 cups of some green liquid and being injected with a solution that felt hot as it travelled through my veins, the verdict was cholecystitis (thank gawd for this blogs auto speller). For the uninitiated, this medical term means … ‘type up an invoice for $5,000 please nurse’. In T minus 2.5 hours, I’ll be laying on the carving table poised to have another organ removed and the anesthetic juice should be fresh at this time of the week. I’m now considering an investment for a time share at this hospital because of my frequent visits. I am so hungry, last meal was dinner about 22 hours ago. When Brad came and sat by my side for a little part of the day, we received a comment from a doctor, a wardsman and a nurse asking if we were brothers. Either I look very young or Brad looks “really” old, has to be the latter. This is obviously a sensitive topic for Brad, which I’m prepared to capitalise on at every opportunity I get … Snaaaapp! Wish I had sold my gall bladder to some sod before it became useless. Anyone interested in a kidney? Go and bid on it like everyone else on eBay!

So cool to have friends, problem is I don’t have many. I’ve invested so much time over the years working and dutifully returning home each and every day. My line of work is not physically taxing, but it can be stressful and so I learnt early in the piece that a beer in the hand is worth two in the fridge … like Homer Simpson, ‘cept I have more hair. Friends, like really good one’s, are like receivers. You transmit information and they process it. Problem is, I’ve noticed is that, some people take advantage of this and use it to spin their yarn with full poetic license, and the ‘friend’ fulfils their obligation to believe everything told to them. There’s two sides to almost every story and, it takes two to tango. Tango by the way is not as cool as Samba or the Salsa. Incidentally, it takes two to Samba or Salsa as well but the negative connotation only applies to Tango. My children are my bestest friends, however I don’t weave any tall stories with them, unless it’s about the fish I caught, that was this ‘bbbbbbbbiggggggg’ or the fierce dragon I wrestled to submission. Oh well, got to get up soon for work, ground hog day.

Turning 50 has attracted a lot of pats on my back followed up with ‘it’s all downhill from here’ jibes. In fact, going downhill sounds fun, fast and requires a lot less effort than the journey getting to the top in the first place. Going uphill requires effort, strength and endurance, none of the qualities which I’m keen to exert any of my precious energy on. I guess going downhill is an acknowledgement that I’ve finally reached the top of the mountain, enjoyed the rest, and will now either glide, base jump, parachute down to the waiting paparazzi to congratulate me on this feat. Love it. Just watched a documentary showing the weirdest talents of people like the guy who is able to suck a strand of spaghetti into his mouth and out his nostril. And another person who can drink milk and can ooze it out of his tear ducts. How the hang did these people discover these things … theres just no accidental reason why someone should suddenly stumble across these things, it would require practise and perseverance to perfect. On that note, let me see if I can blow snot out of my ears?

Just recently I was thrown a piece of verbal wisdom, being told to live each day as it comes. I sort of recall being offered another gem, saying to live each day as if it were my last. You ought to see my very very old cat, the poor thing is mostly blind, mostly deaf, and mostly old. I think she should live each day as if it were her last. As for me, I would actually like to live my life in alignment with this adage, ‘live each 5 (or 10) year period as it comes’. I love planning, I love to look forward to some grand goal, and I certainly don’t want to live today as if it were my last because in all honesty, I would probably be shagging some harem of buxom women who know nothing more than to pleasure me, every day that I thought was my last. By the way, if you find this harem on ebay please bid for me by proxy. Maximum bid in the millions. I have lots of last days to celebrate! Last week I celebrated my 50th year on this planet, and I did it in style. So much in fact, that I do not recall much of what I did. Alcohol sales blipped a tiny minuscule percentage in Sydney, I probably insulted whoever, and most likely stared at someone way too long, and said the most inappropriate things, but hey, … I think I had fun. No matter what we do in these crazy moments however, we should always maintain a sharp focus on those who matter most.

Hi turtle-lings, I’m waiting for the dancing topless Amazonian women to drop from the ceiling Matrix style on my 50th birthday. No worries, my jaw will still drop, and I’ll still be surprised, in fact very surprised. The medics can piss off, my heart can take the excitement. 50 years ago, I was a mistake. A great mistake that my mum loved dearly. A visiting pilot from England decided to go out on the town (big happening place, Auckland), met up with my innocent gorgeous mum and did the deed. This would have had to have been around mid October, 1961. According to Google at that time, ten NZ National MPs voted with the Opposition to remove capital punishment for murder from the Crimes Bill that the National Government had introduced (big, big news). I guess that would have initiated a flurry of amorous boys and gals to go out on the turps that week to celebrate. Wow! Beers sales would have sky rocketed. I’ve watched enough Discovery channels to know that I won the race to the egg! I beat all the other losers to get my mums egg fertilised, what a winner! Oh yeah, high fives!! I thank the lucky stars for that powerful tail flick. I don’t know terribly much about my dad, but he did fly Winston Churchill a lot in what I think was a Douglas plane with lots of fighter planes protecting him. Cool! Real cool. 50 years on, I’ve dyed my hair blonde once and that hurt so bad, I’ve had an ear ring, not the gay ear, I’ve had my chest waxed, never again. I’ve experienced a lot in 50 years and I could not even imagine to highlight any one thing that I would like to say was the big bang. But here am with 4 lovely children, unfortunately I have cancer but what the heck, true love can never be shattered by any dark moments. Brad was the first to extend me good wishes just now for the 50 years, he only just walked in the door. Nighty night all.