Saturday, July 31, 2010

Dudes of Cancer: Monsieur July

Tom Green

“My bum is on a man/Bum is on a man/It's a lot of fun to put yer bum on a man” said Tom Green in his 1999 hit, “The Bum Bum Song.” That was back during Tom Green’s heyday when he hosted The Tom Green Show on MTV and starred in Road Trip. Tom is now one of those long forgotten celebrities, though he still makes some TV appearances, hosts a web show, and continues his rapping career.

Rapper? This Canadian-born oddball, who now looks like a cross between Edward Norton and a serial rapist, was a legitimate rapper in the early ‘90s, when his group was nominated for one Canadian rap award and won another. Tom has dabbled with many forms of entertainment, including radio and stand-up comedy. He became highly popular with his MTV shock humor variety show, and even had a brief marriage to Drew Barrymore.

They became engaged around the time Tom was diagnosed with testicular cancer. His illness is considered the reason his MTV show ended, though I believe based on zero factual evidence that it was the fault of Barrymore, who also destroyed all of her own movies post-E.T. (seriously, have you seen Duplex?).

I was concluding treatment for my first cancer when The Tom Green Cancer Special aired, which was a documentary on his time with cancer and his surgery. That showed far too much uncensored nutsack, and also a human side to Tom that most didn’t think existed.

Tom is healthy and cancer-free, and also a single guy with one testicle, which clearly women love and thus negates his sex offender-appearance.
comedian Tom Green

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Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I Thought Hurricane Season was Over

My friends at UVA honored Hurricane Isabel on September 18, 2003, by drinking Hurricane 40s. Their apartments were flooding, but they were too drunk to care. I observed Isabel in the ER from a fever, since I was still recovering from my bone marrow transplant. I was sent home at midnight, shortly after the worst of the storm. My dad drove us down the leaf-covered roads, dodging small trees. There was a downed tree on our street, and we had to walk the rest of the way.

Our house stood at the bottom of a 700-foot hill. Towering trees lined the street on both sides. With a small flashlight, the two of us slowly crept down the dark, wet concrete. The wind howled and the stinging rain punished our faces. We could only see a few feet ahead. Suddenly, we heard the crash of a tree falling. How close was it? Were we in danger?

“We have to get out of here,” I whispered to myself.

Halfway down the street, we reached the behemoth. My dad lifted small branches as I crossed over. Two more trees collapsed around us. We made it home, which had lost electricity, and went to sleep as the wind pounded against the bricks.

Related story:
Quarter Mile of Shit

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Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The Danger of Flip-Flops

One late afternoon toward the end of my sophomore year of high school, as I reached the outer edge of the lobby, I got a whiff of a familiar odor. I spotted Zeke and walked toward him. With each step, the smell grew stronger until I finally realized it was Zeke’s nasty feet.

“Dude?” I said with a confused look on my face.

He nodded and smiled like an idiot. Once we got in my car I said, “What the fuck, man? I could smell your stinky-ass feet from 100 feet away.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s been bad all day.”

“That’s beyond bad. I can’t even breathe over here…oh, this is horrible. I’m not driving you home unless you ride with your feet out the window.”

“If that’s what you want.”

The wind swept the putrid odor back into the car and infested the once perfectly-good oxygen. Zeke bought a bottle of air freshener and sprayed it on his feet. Now, he smelled like cinnamon potpourri mixed with an old, sweaty gym bag. When we reached his house he left his sandals upstairs while we played video games in his basement. He still stunk, but it was bearable.

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