Happy New Year!

So what if I am a month late? I still hope you have a happy new year. Also, I know it has been almost two months since my last post.What can I say? I have been lazy. I can't say that there has not been anything to write about because there has. I cannot say that I haven't had time to write because I have watched about 7 seasons of SNL reruns on Netflix in the past month alone. What is my excuse then? I simply don't have one. Since it has been a long time though, now that I am back, I will attempt to catch you guys up in what is going on in my life.

First things first, Medea came and went to Mexico. She spent about six weeks over there taking care of her mom since her health is not what it used to be. Nothing about her is what it used to be. I mean, after all, she is old. As a matter of fact, when I wrote the last blog entry on December 12, Medea was already in Mexico. My dad, my sister and I went to drop her off on the weekend of Thanksgiving and my dad and I went to pick her up sometime in mid-January.  If you remember last time I drove to Mexico with my parents, when my dad's father died, I was left behind in Odessa (although to hear my parents tell it, I left them in Odessa with the car so they were the abandoned ones). I was hesitant to go to Mexico because of obvious reasons, but Medea said her mom was really ill and that she would like for me to go because this could be the last time I got to see my grandma, the last of my grandparents, alive. Although I am pretty much immune to most guilt trips, I fell for this one. The trip to drop her off was uneventful except for a horrible allergy reaction that made me break out in hives that itched like crazy. I still don't know what caused them. I went to the doctor in Mexico and despite the fact that he prescribed two shots, it did not get better. I had to go to the doctor once I came back to the US and I had to take steroids. I, of course, did not hear the end of it from my family. They kept saying that I was way too American now and that I was allergic to Mexico. It did not matter that the allergic reaction started in El Paso, which is technically, and I mean barely technically, still the US. The trip to go pick her up was even more uneventful.  Although, when we stopped for lunch at Midland, I did text Preggo to let her know that I had made it past Odessa this time.

This brings me to the next subject, Preggo. In a way, it is thanks to her that I am writing this entry right now. It's not that I don't want to write but it is so much easier to just sit and watch TV. She is always pestering me, in a good way, to write a new entry. She is the one that, shall I say, demanded that I write an entry since I did not work today because of the wintry weather. As a sidenote, she did not work either and I don't see her starting her own blog. She did however start her own facebook and, although now everyone and their mom has a facebook, it is a big step for her. Well, she is now back at work from her maternity leave. As I mentioned before, I think I did anyway and I am too lazy to go back and check whether or not I did so I will just continue assuming that I did, she had a baby girl sometime last year. The girl's name is not "The Thing" as I have been informed countless times by Preggo. I would use the girl's real name but I don't feel at liberty to disclose it, and I can't ever remember it most of the time, so I will call her "Phoebe", like the character from Friends (obscure enough of a reference or should I make it even more so?). The problem had become what to call Preggo since she is not pregnant anymore. I have reached a decision, heretofore she shall be known and addressed as "Preggo". Why? Because it is easier to just keep calling her what I have called her so far. So y'all can rest easy since you won't have to learn a whole new nickname for the same person. One last note on Preggo, I should mention that I made her cry on her second day back at work. Apparently, sometimes I take things too far. I also think she was no longer acclimatized to my abrasive personality and the many hurtful things I say while joking around. I have already apologized to her and she has forgiven me but this is just a heads up to everyone who is, has been or will be a friend of mine, I will eventually say something that will hurt you. I may or may not apologize, depending on how I feel at the moment. I apologized on this instance but I don't plan to make it a habit. I have too much pride and I refuse to swallow any of it because I do not know how many calories it has.

On the job front, I got a promotion. You may be completely surprised to hear this since I always claim to be lazy but apparently I am a pretty good worker. I guess I like money. Not a lot, just enough.
*BREAKING NEWS: WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG TO ANNOUNCE THAT I JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT, DUE TO THE HAZARDOUS WEATHER CONDITIONS, MY WORK IS CANCELED AGAIN FOR TOMORROW. THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-REPEAT. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG.*
I am pretty psyched about the promotion. I now have my own office and my own phone extension number and my own work email. Yes, I hear what you are saying, "But Carlos, your office has no windows!" What most people don't know is that I love the fact that my office has no windows. I am really safe in the case of a hurricane, except for the fact that I am on the second floor. I was actually making a joke about how I would need fake dead plants to my friends Hill and Zeke and they came up with an ingenious solution. I was sitting in my office one day when the receptionist asked me to come downstairs. When I walked down the stairs (as I usually do since I asked for a key to the stairs to take advantage of the fact that my office is on the second floor and finally get some form of exercise), I found Hill and Zeke waiting for me and holding this:

The picture may not be too clear, but it consists of dead flowers and a spray-painted black balloon that reads "whatever." I absolutely love it. I had said I needed dead fake flowers but they upped the ante and brought me dead real flowers instead. All I have to say is that if I
*BREAKING NEWS: WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG TO ANNOUNCE THAT I JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT, DUE TO THE HAZARDOUS WEATHER CONDITIONS, MY WORK IS CANCELED AGAIN FOR TOMORROW. THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-REPEAT. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG.*
were a bouquet, this would be it. It will now sit in my office until it completely falls apart. I am lacking more decorations for my office though. I mentioned in passing to my friend Kristin that I was going to get a firemen's calendar and I think she is thinking of getting me a desk calendar with pictures of guys in them. I am excited about it which segues neatly into my next paragraph.

On romantic news, there is nothing to report.

I think that may be enough catching up. Now about the future. I do not plan on abandoning this blog. Yes, my posting cannot even be called sporadic but all I can say is that, so far, it is as consistent as I am in most everything I do. Speaking about things I do, I have a new project in mind. While I was writing my last post about Dottie and her inability to read one thousand books before she dies I wondered if I would be able to read one thousand books before I die. Granted, it is not that original but I figure it will be at least interesting to try. Of course, I will document everything here in the blog. Since I had the idea on December twelfth, I was going to try and start the project on the new year but, since I am a procrastinator supreme and I am just now getting around to mentioning it, I will try to start by March 1st, 2011. That being said, feel free to submit books that you think I should read and to tell me what your favorite books are. Since there is no way to count the books I have already read, I will start from zero and re-read some of the ones I have read previously. Each book will count once, and only once regardless of how many times I have read it or will read it, into the count for the one thousand book project. What do you think? Will this be a good idea? Will I follow through on it? I sure hope so.

Anyway, I shall stop the post for now. I am glad I had a chance to reconnect. Be aware that normal posts will hopefully resume from now on at a rate greater than, but hopefully at least, two posts a month. I have been very -ahem- "well behaved" as of late so I don't have any additions to my "Reasons I Am Going to Hell" series but I hope to resume those as well too. Furthermore, I recently acquired a Twitter account. I don't know if I will use it much but in case you are interested my username in there is cosilvar (I really don't know how to fully use it so I can't give you detailed directions on finding me so good luck, if you even look.) I guess that is all for now. Until later, sincerely, Me.

I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad friend.

And a bad blogger to boot. Honestly, I have had some things to write about for a while. I just haven't made myself get on here and get with it lately. Let me update you on a few things first. No, I have not gotten my clipboard back. Yes, I wussed out and turned in her application so I don't have the thief's number anymore. I think this is a lost cause so I may have to let it go. You gotta know when to cut your losses. Next, unfortunately my jersey number for The Sons of Pitches will not be Pi, but 42. Or 44. At this point, who cares, right? Just kidding. I still love the team and am looking forward to our fourth practice. I have realized though that the sport is a lot more dangerous than I was initially told. For example, on our second practice, a ball hit me on my left thigh. I am not saying I overreacted, but I wore an athletic cup for the third practice. But when one of our teammates got hit on the chin with the ball on our third practice, I realize that a cup is not enough. I need a freakin' suit of armor to play this sport. Unfortunately, those are not easily accessible or conductive to a good range of movement. Plus, I don't think it would meet the uniform requirements. All caught up? Let's move on.

Allow me to whine for a moment. I had a horrible week. It didn't start out too bad. I was off Monday since it was Memorial Day (insert something good about soldiers here to make you feel better and make me look good). But Tuesday, oh god Tuesday, was a whole different story. Now I don't want to be all gross, but we all know I am going to so brace yourself. Let's just say that, halfway through my morning shift at work, I kept getting the urge to pee. Let's also say that, right before lunch, I realized I was peeing blood. I don't wanna say this scared the living daylights out of me, but I started writing a will before realizing I had nothing to bequeath to anyone but debts. So during lunch I went home and looked at the ever handy WebMD site. It said that it was likely a urinary tract infection. Under home remedies, it said to drink lots of fluids and specifically cranberry juice. I called work and informed them that I would be unable to return to work and immediately headed to the grocery store to buy cranberry juice. I got one of those one liter bottles of it and downed it hoping it would help. Let me just say this, cranberry juice should never be drunk without some form of liquor accompanying it. Then I just sat at the toilet for the next few hours as the urge to pee would not abate and it was pointless to go anywhere. I cannot say if the juice did much but by the end of the day I had stopped peeing blood, even though the discomfort was still there, and I thought the worst was over.

I was wrong. On Wednesday I got up and figured I would go to work. I realized, when I was driving to work, that I wasn't all there. My reaction time was slower than usual and I was moving slow. Well, slower. Touche. I must say that I hate doctors. The last time I went to one, I was forced to go by my parents. This time, I willingly made an appointment and left work shortly after I had arrived.

Later that morning when I got to the doctor's office, he was not too happy with the fact that I had not had a physical in over ten years and that I had not had a tetanus shot in just about as long. He asked what my symptoms were and I described them to him, adding that now I actually had body aches and was sore all over. He proceeded to examine me, a bit too roughly if you ask me. I mean, when he was checking for hernias and asked me to cough, I could swear he applied so much pressure a tear may have slid down my cheek. Then again, my body was just probably a bit more tender because of being sick but I still held a grudge. To make matters worse, he looked perplexed when he announced that I had a urinary tract infection. He said that men rarely ever got them. I did not say much, but what the hell? Was he questioning my manhood? I mean, he knew I was a guy. He almost made me cry while handling my equipment. Can you see why I hate doctors? Also, he said guys "rarely" got them. He did not say "never." Let's just say I was happy to get my prescription for antibiotics and get going.

Does the story get better? For most people it would after that. For me, it did not. I dropped the prescription at the pharmacy and they told me it was going to be about an hour and a half. I asked, very nice and politely, if they would please give me a call when they got the prescription ready. The nice lady said she would, so, when I got home I took a nap trusting I would receive a call to wake me up and pick my meds up. Four hours later, Medea got home from work. First thing she asked was why did I not go to work. Simple enough, I did not feel well. Plus, I did go to work, I just did not stay. I told her I had to go get my meds and she said that she would offer to go get them for me but she had to cook dinner. I figured that was fair so I went and got my own meds. They are supposed to be taken with food so I also bought a whole bunch of cans of chicken noodle soup and I picked up some Azo the doctor had recommended. For those of you who don't know what Azo is, and I speak mainly to any guy readers I might have (as if!), Azo is a urinary analgesic that makes peeing less painful when you have a UTI. It also makes your pee a bright orange which is really weird. Back to the story, I get home and start preparing a can of soup for myself so I can take the meds. I am moving really slow as my whole body aches and I am really tired. Medea, upon noticing my state, commented that the reason I felt so miserable was because I was just too lazy and had slept the day away. Oh My Freaking god!!! I could have slapped her if it hadn't taken so much energy. I was furious though. There I was taking care of myself, making my own soup, picking up my own meds, feeling like I am dying, and she has the decency to say that. She did not stop there. She said that if I wanted to feel better, I should clean around the house. When I did not respond to that she then suggested I just go outside and just walk or run for a while so I could shake the lethargy off. She wanted me to go running! I could not believe it. I was speechless, which was a good thing because who knows what I would have said. I did get her back a few minutes later though because she said that she had a headache. I quickly suggested that she go for a run to get rid of her headache. Funny, right? She didn't think so. So now she was mad because I was upset because of what she said. I have no idea how she does it, but she always turns things around and gets mad at me for being offended because she insulted me.

Anyway, I would love to say that I felt better right away but I actually felt worse before I felt better. That night I had a fever of 101 degrees. Not too high a fever. What sucked though is that I had not had a fever in over twenty years and I can no longer say that. But it does paint a picture of how sick I was. In the past, regardless of how sick I got, I had never gotten a fever. I would get close, but no fever. That is when I started worrying. That night was the toughest one but once the fever broke, the worst was over. I still took Thursday off to fully rest and allow the meds to get me back to feeling better and take away all the pains and aches. The headache was the last to leave on Thursday night.

I don't want to say I have become paranoid, especially since I have been one to always check my urine to make sure I am drinking enough water, but let's just say I pay extra attention now. Unfortunately, I scared the hell out of myself Friday at work when I went to pee and realized my urine was a bright red. I almost had a mini-panic attack, which is not good when you are using a urinal and you have to keep aiming, until I realized that I was still taking the freaking Azo and just had not had enough water because I had been busy at work. That is one of the most relieving realizations I have had while relieving myself.

So that is my week in a nut shell. Why then is my post called "I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad friend?" Give me a minute. I am getting to it. I just don't know the meaning of the word "brevity." Anyway, when I posted on my facebook that I wasn't feeling well, I was flooded with people asking if they could do anything for me or bring me some soup. I even had someone offer something that made me blush. Well, it didn't make me blush so much as it made me wonder what the hell he was thinking. But I digress. My best friend checked up on me daily and kept asking if I needed anything and could not be any sweeter. She kept saying that if it weren't for my parents she would come see me and see what I needed. I called her today after work to let her know I was all better and I find out that she has strep throat. I had nothing to say other than, "well, call me when you get better." See how horrible that is? But I could not bring myself to offer anything. I mean, I am still on antibiotics and I am pretty sure my immune system is still down and I already spent a whole week sick. I can't risk getting strep. Yes, I am selfish. One thing I can guarantee though, I will not tell her to go running so that she will feel better. Hey, I guess I am not that bad after all, right?