Monday, January 14, 2013

Tomorrow I will be Mrs. Michael Herlehy

Sorry for the radio silence. Much has haopened. My typing has gotten worse because of my nueropathy and just always being sloppy. So maybe some things remain the same.

My mother once wrote me this strange email telling me the day and exact circumstances of when I was conceived. It made me uncomfortable. Some stuff you learn what to do with your kids from your parents and then, some stuff you learn what not to do. I won't be doing that. I think Conner wouuld be so traumatized he would be crying. But Kenna might laugh at it. Maddy would hate it as much as Maddy hates anything that's not mangoes and vanilla ice cream.

So I was conceived after a rockin party sometime in the afternoon of July 4th. I was supposed to be named Michelle since they thought I was going to be a girl. Now, ladies, just to be clear here, they might or might not have found the baby boy's um, package. I don't know about that part of the story. The important thing is, years later, it's by no means large but it's also not small. Just wanted to clear that up before we went any further. Especially with the ladies because I know how much they care about that thing.

Well, tomorrow I will be having a stem cell transplant replacing my lame stem cells with my sisters'. It took all this time but it is finally happening.

And from 3 pm tomorrow onwards, I am forever having woman blood cells. I have the opportunity to explore the softer sex. Maybe you won't make fun of me for watching, "After the Fall". Maybe I finally can see the attraction of Daniel Day Lewis. Maybe I will finally shop for sconces. I could have long, emotional, heartfelt conversations about what I ate at work, I will have good skin! Oh, the possibilities are so enormous. And guys, I will be your spy. You want to know why she doesn't want to share bathroom sinks with you even though her sink is just as messy as yours. I'll have the answer. Like, already, I can give you a tip to be romantic: the next time it's windy, brush the hair off her face gently. Huh? Ladies, you have to admit, that's what Daniel Day Lewis did in "The Last of the Mohekans", and that was during the outtakes.

My sister bravely went through a ton of crappy tests to get to this point and never stopped smiling even when she had a large needle poking into the side of her neck. I used to fight with the nuns all the time about life being random versus having a purpose foretold by God. Gobbledeegook. The universe is too big for us to believe we were chosen. The universe is random. But what we make from the randomness is what really counts. And I made a better relationship with my sister because of only my sister's courage and kindness. It just came in the form of stem cells.

My sister's cells are good cells. Strong. Vibrant. Stylish. Never had sex in Aftica, which really was on the check list. And from tomorrow onwards, I will actually, scientifically have female blood cells. Every time I go to Central DuPage Hospital, with their crack team of experts, they're going to come back at least three or four times telling me there's something wrong with my blood cells. It will be fun.

Thank you, Jackie.

That's the second time I thanked her and if you read the story that follows, you may agree that this first time was much bigger than this last time and this time Jackie is saving my life.

Ok, so you know those business lectures and books that tell you never to do something stupid at a business party. Well, I did something stupid at my first high school dance. And I was sober.

So this girl who was moderately pretty (for a kid with a face filled with zits, that was certainly pretty enough) and she asked me to dance. We were at one of those, "Welcome the Incoming Freshman" dances where only the Freshman go because nobody really cares that much about the Freshmen. Not seeing this at the time, though, I should point out that this girl was a senior. Another bonus, so I thought. Now she's above moderately pretty and into yeah, she's okay. We danced all night. She wouldn't let me go. For anything--not to even to go get some of that fine punch. I was really confused. Was this supposed to be really sexy or just stalker weird. She kept telling me to stare into her eyes and I was a Freshman boy so there are actually a lot more things I want to be straing at. So that was annoying. Nice but annoying. I can't see my current exceptionally pretty wife saying that, unless it was something like, "Stare at my eyes, dipshit. I don't want a pair of skis for Christmas!"

We ended up not going anywhere after the party and so as the guys say out there, "I got the Heisman". Fellas, please show your ladies what the Heisman is if you can.

The next Monday, I was the talk of the school, in a very bad way. Let me tell you, I was the king of the douchebags. The first impression, the first wholly, fully attended Freshman event (and then some since my stalker senior moderately pretty girl was there as well) and they all think, "This kid is a real douchebag." I guess I was dancing with this girl who, well, just ask yourself why she was at a Freshamn dance as a Senior but only wanting me to stare at her eyes. She was a little deranged.

Well, my sister saw me in the hall right after the gossip flew at school and pulled me aside. In the three minutes it takes to get to class, she gave me some great advice and completely solved the situation.

"Stay away. She's really off, as in touched. Crazy. Geeky. This chick is all of them and now you're in her clutches (I would have preferrred the word vortext there but I digress)."

I had to get out. My sister said this girl was going to stalk me and be really strange and completely ruin any potential reputation before it all began. And she almost did. So following my siter's advice, I cut our budding relationship off immediately.

Now before you think I broke this young lady's heart, the very next day she was following around Mark Mallon. Mark was another geek but he was a real geek. Had very little ungeeky qualities. Was unnaturally short and loved to play Dungeons and Dragons. Tried too hard to be cool. That type. She picked the perfect soul mate. This girl, however, was even lower than Mark on the coolness social scale of Immaculate Conception High School in Elmhurst. She said and did anything Mark mentioned. She'd even stand in back of him as he talked to his friends all lunch hour, just waiting for him, staring at his back. Really touched, indeed.

So the school moved on to ridiculing Mark Mallon and her and I was history. Thank you Jackie. It's actually great advice. You hear the same thing in politics all the time--when there's an embarrassing crises and it's true, admit to it immediately. People will then move on. President Clinton--yeah, I got a BJ in the White House. Fuck you, Newt. President Bush--there are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. So let's stop looking and get the hell out of here.

I got a headache so I am once again going to pass on the editing. Sorry.

What was that girl's name? She's probably an actress now.