Thursday, April 30, 2009

Girls of Cancer: Miss April

Diem Brown

I, a twenty-five-year-old male, watch both The Real World and Real World/Road Rules Challenge religiously. Both are reality show trash, but they are very addictive, especially the latter. Challenge is about a group of violent, HGH-filled, male chauvinists competing in physical competitions to win money. Some of these guys, like Alton and CT, are tremendous athletes. Women are involved, but mostly just to look good (some of the female competitors can kick the shit out of me in everything: darts, arm wrestling, color by number, etc.).

Diem Brown was diagnosed with stage 2 ovarian cancer just after being selected to compete in Real World/Road Rules Challenge: Fresh Meat. Diem competed in a different challenge soon after surviving her often deadly disease (advanced ovarian cancer has a 70% kill rate). Diem’s peach fuzz brown hair was just budding, and she wore a hat all the time. During one water-related competition, Diem removed her hat, sobbing wildly. It was touching…or something like that.

Diem then started dating CT, a psychotic, ignorant, arrogant, machine-of-an-athlete. CT was kicked off two challenges in the first day for hitting other competitors. I watch these shows in hopes of seeing guys like CT fuck up, and to see how bitchy the girls are, and to see how terrible some of them are as human beings. Generally speaking, Real World programming gets me very angry, and this makes me want to watch even more.

Does voluntarily dating CT make Diem Brown a bad person? Unquestionably. However, the survivor community is happy to have her because, well, she’s really hot.MTV's Diem Brown

12/13/2014 note: I just found out that Diem passed away on November 14, 2014.

Leia Mais…

Thursday, April 23, 2009

My Little Kindygartener

My bone marrow turns six years old tomorrow. She’s grown up so fast. I have a photo album with pictures of her biggest moments: her first crawl, her first curse word, her first viral infection. I still think she got that on purpose when I made her watch Scarface instead of 27 Dresses.

She was going to make a birthday list, similar to the one she made two years ago, but I told her there won’t be any gifts this year because of the poor economy. Then she said that prices have gone down, almost to the point of deflation, and that I entered the market when the Dow was nearly 7,000, and with my good credit and low interest rates I can buy her pretty much anything. That little macroeconomist bitch.

I try to rear my bone marrow right, but it’s tough being a single host. I eat raw vegetables because I know they’re good for her despite the wretched odor that exits my anus, which, by the way, she doesn’t have to deal with. She says she doesn’t like broccoli and would prefer mushrooms, but she knows I don’t eat fungus.

Without her birth host to teach her girly shit, I have systematically brainwashed her. She now prefers 24 instead of American Idol, and foosball instead of dolls. She even takes it to a new level—I’ve caught her pouring Everclear into her breakfast nutrients. Imagine how fucked-up I get.

Kindergarten has gone surprisingly well, though she has gotten violent with the other bone marrows. I think it’s from the moonshine. She isn’t acting like the other girls, and shows no sign of interest towards boys. I’ve spoken with her hematologist/psychologist about this, and we both think she’s a lesbian. This suits me just fine. If she got knocked-up by some bastard bone marrow I’d lose my mind. God help him if he’s type O-.

Happy Birthday, sugarplum!

Leia Mais…

Monday, April 13, 2009


My dad wore a black, digital, waterproof Timex, everywhere: to the grocery store, to the swimming pool, to work. When the band finally broke after years of constant use, he carried the timepiece in his pocket. He could’ve replaced the band, but that would’ve cost more than a new Timex.

And then my dad laid his eyes on a bright, shiny, red Timex. He demoted his old timepiece to knock-around use only and the red Timex became part of his black-tie attire. My dad loved his two Timexes. I can’t remember him not wearing (or pocketing) one.

So I found it odd when, while at a meeting with my dad (I got a new job working at his company), I looked at his wrist and he was not wearing his Timex. He was wearing a watch, but it wasn’t even digital. I looked closer. Black leather, or fake leather, band. Is there such a thing as fake leather? Large, round timepiece, with a silver-colored border.

“Dad, what happened to your old Timex?”

“Well, you know Benjy, I was looking through JD’s old desk drawer and found this watch. It wasn’t working, and JD said he didn’t want it anymore, so I got it fixed for $20.”

“Where did JD get the watch?”

“He said he got it in New York for $10. From a street vender.”

In the middle of the watch were large, white letters: ROLEX.

Leia Mais…

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Girls of Cancer Charity: Miss Virginia

Tara Wheeler

It was probably the dumbest question to ask Miss Virginia 2008, seeing that we're no longer in the year 2008: "Did you get to compete in Miss America?"


"How did you do?"

"I didn't win."

I got a Facebook invite to see Tara Wheeler at a Crystal City restaurant, where she was raising money for St. Baldrick's Foundation for pediatric cancer research. A $10 donation got me free food and two raffle tickets. I won a fancy dish.

Miss Virginia went to my high school, though I didn't know who she was. T2theZ and Ern-Diggity were in the science program with her, and they were all friends. After Tara chatted with the three of us, I informed T2theZ and Ern-Diggity that I had never met Tara. So, Ern-Diggity brough Tara back to our table and introduced us.

"This is Ben, by the way. He has a blog."

"Something about 'My Balls,' right?" she asked.

Holy shit Miss Virginia knows about my blog. Holy shit she is in the Facebook group I created for my blog.

If Tara raises $500,000 by today then she will shave her head. Though there was never a chance in hell of her reaching this goal, it is a good cause. DONATE HEREMiss Virginia Tara Wheeler

Leia Mais…