First really bad cancer joke.

Gallows humor is the way we cope, okay it’s the way I cope. I honestly don’t know if I am actually dealing with anything until I make that first really horrible joke. The one that as soon as it’s made it’s way past what little filter I have in play and out of my mouth makes me cringe even as I’m making it. I did it for my Aunt and Uncles death, I did it for 9-11, and I still haven’t managed to do it about my last dogs death.

I just did it the other day for life’s latest curve ball and I can’t tell you if that’s a good thing.


My mom has cancer. Lung canner. The cancer with the highest mortality rate, the one that’s notoriously difficult to treat, that one. I just found out less than a week ago, five days ago to be precise. She went into the hospital for something else that turned out to be very little in and of it’s self, but while she was there they found this. The big C of the L.

I’ve had a lot of reactions, Kubler Ross-ing my ass all over the board, though mostly I keep swinging my ass back to anger. People are pissing me off, mostly because my mom and her pack a day habit that may just have killed her is pissing me off, but I can’t yell and scream at the person with cancer, it’s bad form. So I’m angry with everyone and everything else around me. And since I work retail, there’s a lot to be angry at. Assholes abound, especially during the holidays, and I really count it as one in the win column every day I make it to the end of without screaming or taking a swing at someone. So far so good, though I still have to make it though Black Friday, so keep your fingers crossed. Anyway between the rage and the numb I haven’t really had time to process the new parameters of my reality. I mean it’s going to change a lot, maybe even everything, even if she makes it though this like she owned the breast cancer years before life’s about to go all sorts pear shaped. I was kinda worried that I’d not be able to do what has to be done, for her and for me, to get us through this.

Then I made my first really bad cancer joke. I mean it was bad, just horrible. Not only in poor taste but not that funny even, but the instant I said it I felt better. Like suddenly it all snapped into place and I knew I got this, that what ever comes it’s doable.

So yeah, first really bad cancer joke, honestly probably the first of many. Not the first I wanted for this blog post but it’s the one you’re getting. I guess firsts are not always going to be some awesome amazing adventure or new cats, sometimes it’s going to be something that is only a first because thus far you’ve been lucky enough to dodge the bullet up until it becomes one. Lets hope the rest of mine are better than this one.

No Filter Ever (factory defective since 1972)

- The joke was about me being able to take mom in a fight now that she has no wind. Yeah I know, lame and tasteless and yet still better to me than any soppy affirmations any day of the week.

And So It Begins

I have debated long and hard over what to write here. Toyed with and discarded several of what I am sure were brilliant concepts for my first Blog post for a variety of reasons. These reasons run the gamut from entirely reasonable and bug fuck insane. So in the end we’re just going to go with this.
Today I got a cat.
Wait! Before you run off to what I am sure is some much saner part of the internet please know that this is not going to be yet another cat lady blog about how miss Kitty is just so adorable and watch as she plays the piano and stuff. (Cats play the piano right? That is something they do, I think. Along with lurking in ceilings re writing the bible and eating chez burgers.) Other people pretty much have that market covered and probably do a much better job of it that I ever could. So no, this will not be a cat themed blog but the cat thing is significant and important. Or at least significant and important in No Filter Ever context sort of way, along with Misha Collins, Show Tunes and Bacon.
See thing is, I have never had a cat before. Not a one. Generally if I had to qualify myself as something or another it would be as a full on, hard core, Dog person. And yes that is a capitol D cause I think dogs are just that awesome. So to wake up one day and to now suddenly find myself sharing my life with a cat is kinda new experience. Which is sort of the point of this journal, blog, word vomit, experiment. I am going to try new things and then bitch endlessly about it to a cold heartless universe who does not care. Or you know, whoever might actually read this. So you know serial killers and Brit. (Hi Brit!). I am not fond of the new things as a general rule so along with the bitching there may even be a bit of personal growth on my part as I attempt to push past my boundaries and see what the world holds. Try not to hold is against me.
Anyway one long, confusing and slightly point less mission statement later here we stand. I don’t think I’m going to post frequently since I am both lazy and hate change but when I do summon the Herculean strength it’s going to take for me to get off the couch, turn off whatever is currently playing on the WB and do something new? You guys (and by You guys I mean Brit and the assorted serial killers) will be the first to hear me whine and complain about it at length.
Wish me luck.
No Filter Ever (Cause my ass is way to cheap to get one installed)