I did more Twitter action last night than I probably have in the past two weeks put together.

The whole health care reform reaction/discussion – which many people hashtagged with #hcr – was going crazy.

My thoughts were swirling around and I too had to get them out.

In lieu of many people’s hyperbolic statements about either freedom, America, history, or Communism, I had some of these thoughts.

I won’t know for sure how I feel about #hcr until Beyonce makes her statement.

@Streakerdude2 I didn’t even know this was going on until like an hour ago lol

Why do they bang that gavel lololol

Is Biden crying or tired – he’s the Vice President right?

It occurs to me that if the Cavs win it all & LeBron leaves, it’ll be a true Cleveland moment, wherein we can’t even enjoy our one title.

Does everyone get free thermometers lol

Also, that guy in the picture was in the background of the CNN broadcast I turned on.

He was either exhausted or drunk, but one thing I know is he’ll be my lasting impression of this Health Care Victory Crisis 2010.

That’s the one absolute certainty here, by the way – everyone must make absolute judgement on whether this works or not by NOON TODAY.

Go over to Reese’s Facebook Page if you’re bored.

Calvin Stadiums is continually pitching himself as their new spokesperson.

I often get asked how or what to write a blog about, whether it be overall or for a particular post.

My advice is usually something like, “I dunno – just like write whatever comes into your head and then put it on the blog.”

For example:

‎​I don’t remember what it’s called but like he is in one prison and she is in a different one and like they try to fall out of love because of their long-distance prison romance but they keep sending each other letters about how they’s going to go get ice cream together one day but like the wardens find out and it turns out the warden has bone cancer so he needs to do a spine fluid thing on both of them or something. There’s a prison doctor who tells him how to do it but I don’t remember how it ends.

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

See?

That’s a post.

Would you see this movie if it starred Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in 1991.

(Click to enlarge pic.)

Hey so Denny over at WFNY sent me this Blame Drew’s Cancer screenshot, and the following note:

I haven’t been on BDC for a while so I looked at it after you tweeted about it. Your tweet popped up and I took a screenshot. Thought it’d make you laugh.

If you’re not familiar with the program, Drew has cancer and like is able to do stuff about it that doesn’t involve moping and/or being defeated.

Also, Denny feels close enough to the entire program to refer to it as BDC, and is one of those “two spaces after a period” people.

I’m not in the former category, and will never be in the latter, but Drew’s endeavor reminds me of the various times I’ve been convinced I had cancer.

1) In high school after we had the testicular cancer lesson in Health Class. I was totally positive, to the point that I asked my parents to get me a doctor appointment.

The family doctor was the father of a friend, and I’m pretty sure there was a conversation at their house shortly thereafter about, “Hey, that Spaeth kid thought he had cancer.”

This is how I got voted “Most Likely to Think He Has Cancer” sophomore year.

2) A few weeks after I got that award, I was feeling a lot of pressure to live up to it, so I went back to the doctor to ask him if he could just tell his son I was in with more cancer paranoia. As luck would have it, there was a spot on my neck he thought I needed to get checked out.

Turned out it was just embedded dirt, but for a day or two I was sure I had skin cancer.

3) Just last week, I coughed really hard and my arm hurt, so I thought I had arm cancer. Still waiting on the diagnosis, but someone told me your entire arm can’t get cancer, so hopefully it’s a stress fracture.

Are you a member of the Who Shot Mamba? Facebook Page, and have you ever thought you had cancer.

Please do tell, and be raw and real about it, like I am.

I’m actually really wiped out from this surgery and probably overdid it yesterday, so I’ma take it easy today. My brain is kinda dead…no jokes or thoughts are happening. I also have to go back to the doctor for inspection.

I was gonna write up my idea for a water-park style playland that’s made of dirt, but I just don’t have it in me. For now, enjoy this picture from Reid Gershbein, aka @thraveboy – he made the film “Here. My Explosion…” that I looked at back here.

That’s the happiest picture on Earf!

While I’m resting, can you tell me the happiest picture you’ve ever take in your life? If you’re more of a miserable sort, how about the saddest picture you’ve ever taken?

Link to either if you can – I’ll send my favorite a free copy of Prelude to a Super Airplane – I just got a shipment, so I’m sitting on a bunch.

(You can follow Inflatable Ben from WSM? right here on Twitter – I think he’ll be out hunting booty babes in his own smooth fashion.)

(This is a wonderful companion piece to The Shoulder Tattoo.)

The doctor appointment went pretty good yesterday – nothing much to address, except what I was there for, which remains a fun mystery for everyone.

I did almost pass out, as I usually do when medical procedures are explained. Not that there wasn’t fun to be had. For example, each and every preliminary question – the ones where they ask whether you’re allergic to stuff, drink/smoke, etc – was answered thusly:

“Ummm…I had the bronchitis once – is that what you mean?”

That’s re-purposed material from Twitter, by the way. Anyway – here’s what I was at a cosmetic surgeon for – that’s right, a cosmetic surgeon.

In mid-2002 I got assaulted in a bar bathroom, shattered a cheekbone and one eye socket, and now I’m all jacked up with screws and plates on one side, i.e. I’m a Terminator. This is either awesome or really awesome, depending on how cool you are. Some points of interest:

1) Don’t ask if I set off airplane station alarms – I don’t, and that’s such an easy joke, I’d be insulted if you did it. Everything is titanium.

2) Nobody knows who did it or why exactly I was assaulted. Kingsley – who I went to college with – can probably come up with some viable scenarios, all of which result in me agreeing that I probably deserved to at least get beat up a little, but not face-smashed into a wall while at a urinal. (And yeah – this incident is why I really don’t drink much anymore.)

3) Against what one would assume, my eyesight in the broken side improved after the breakage/surgery. I was 20/20 before, which means the nanobots inside the plates have become sentient, and are working day and night to make me more than just a normal man. (I’m convinced this is why I shrugged it off when I got hit by that car, yet the car was damaged.)

4) The one thing I remember from the entire face-getting-smashed incident was screaming “MY FAAAAAACE…! NOOOOOOOOOooooooo…!” upon impact into the offending wall.

5) As to yesterday, I’ve been feeling some odd pressure around the eye, so went to have it checked out. Also, last week I sneezed and half a hardware store shot out of my nose, so I figured maybe there was a problem. There will be some touch-up work done. Simple procedure; no big deal.

That’s about it, although I suppose there are offshoots to this story, like the time I looked at my dental x-rays with a new dentist and claimed I had no idea that there was a screw in my upper jaw. I doubt I’ve ever had to hold in more laughter than when I looked at her kinda dumbfounded and asked, “How do you suppose something like that happens?”

Anyway, whoever can come up with the best scenario for how and why this happened can have a free copy of PTSA. Leave it in the comments – what exactly did I do? Also, do you you have any exciting broken pieces of yourself stories? (Physical only – let’s leave emotional damages for another day.)

(In the picture below, @alexiskn shows the first and second best uses for my book – as a placeholder for real books, and as the Tobey Maguire to her Joan Allen home.** You can see that it’s already infected that sad-face copy of Lord of the Flies.)

I was on IMDB looking up information on Robert Downey Jr, and came across 2006′s The Shaggy Dog. From the message board:

I saw this movie about six months ago on a field trip. The only reason that I chose this movie was that I only had four options. There was this girl from my group that was laughing every five minutes. Clearly she has no taste. Anyway, did Tim Allen have to be naked? I mean, what is so wrong with a dog with clothes on?

Someone follows up by pointing out that dogs don’t wear clothes. It turns into a heated discussion about who’s more stupid, and the scientific logic of a human turning into a dog in real life, and whether said dog would wear clothes or not.

This all brings me back to late 2004 or so, a time wherein I didn’t have a blog at all, and occasionally did background work in TV and movies.

You see, I spent about two weeks on The Shaggy Dog, and if you listen really closely, you might hear myself and some girl (as “Courtroom Gallery Members”) screaming, “OH F–K!!! WE’RE ALL GONNA GET AIDS!!! AAAHHHH!!!!!” when we were supposed to be “confused and a little surprised” regarding Tim Allen barking in the middle of court.

I’m not actually onscreen there as more than a shoulder, but I did make it in during the restaurant scene, when Kristin Davis is stood up by her naked dog husband. I’m the guy in the v-neck sweater fake-eating salmon. The twist is that I real-ate five plates of that stuff, and that’s because I was hungry.

I’m sure I have a ton of stories like this, but I’ve largely blocked out the +/-6 months I spent doing background actoring – it’s an awful way to spend time, although highly educational with regard to how sets work.

You can also meet lots of girls, and learn the delicate art of not committing suicide after spending a day around little kids who have better careers than you.

I’ll be at the doctor this afternoon, and will do my best to Tweet the entire thing, as mentioned the other day. First person to correctly guess what the appointment is for wins their own colorful and lifesaving copy of PTSA.

**Reading it is actually the tenth best utilization of the book.

(Follow me on Twitter here.)
(Download the first 55 pages of my epic, pretentious, and stupid book, Prelude to a Super Airplane, here – it’s available in paperback, or iPhone/Kindle for only 1.99.)