I thought I should tell you

So, I'm all fucked up.

Perhaps it's a form of payback by your god for something I did. Judging by what I've seen, I don't think your god is involved much in the day-to-day operations here on Earth, I doubt he's even heard about me, so I don't believe my own theory, and I don't believe in the nutty old man's existence anyway. But it's perfectly normal to ask “why me?” However, with six billion other people here, 200 billion stars like our Sun in the galaxy, each with the possibility of planets like Earth spinning around them, and 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe, I'd bet your god has trouble keeping track of it all. The perfectly normal question ought to be, “why not me?”

The thing is - I now have a pre-existing condition - although it's undiagnosed. I love irony even when I'm the target and a good joke is still good even if it's on me. I wrote that piece long after I became all fucked up so it doesn't really count, and it's not all that ironic. Irony is that guy who ran all the time, wrote all those books about how running was so great for your health, and then dropped dead of a massive stroke while he was out jogging.

Anyway, let's talk about blood - since I've given so much of it lately in order for them to run tests. I was curious so I asked that they find out what my blood type is. It's AB positive. After a little studying at Mr. Google's domestic partner, Mr. Wikipedia (they share a condo together in Silicon Valley but they're not gay, or so they say), I found out 5% of the world has AB+ blood. Odds are that you're type A+, B+, or type O+, which altogether makes up 85% – over a billion barrels. What it all means is beyond my four minutes of intensive research. One thing I found is that if I happen to be low a quart of blood, I can top-off with any old blood I want. You're all potential donors to me!

Your blood will work fine in my system assuming it's still fresh and not too salty. And not if you're an Arab. No offense intended - it's only because I support our country's goal of reducing our dependence on foreign blood, not because all of you are terrorists - I couldn't care less who you blow up. The best part: you probably can't use my blood – it only works for people in my little AB+ clan. Unless we are both AB+ then your body will hate my blood and you'll suffer a horrible, intensely bad reaction to it and it may just kill you. Sorta like a Justin Bieber show.

Anyway, furthermore, while I'm at it, and other unlisted, abrupt transitions, here's the fuckery that has got me all fucked up.  When I speak it sounds like I've been drinking heavily. It's becoming increasingly difficult to talk without sounding like I've had a few. Words with the letter B trip me up.

“A dingo stole my bay-he!”
“A dingo stole your what?”
“My bay-he.”
“Your what?
“My bay-he!”
“Your what?”
“My BABY!”
“There are no dingos in North America and you don't own any children. You're fucking drunk!”
“I wish.”

When I walk it looks like I'm shit-faced. Next time I get pulled over I'll run the risk of getting hauled away for drunk driving because I'll fail the road-side sobriety tests, aside from the breathalizer. As long as I don't have to speak to the cop then I should be okay and (s)he won't have a reason to run any tests.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“You're looking for a stolen bay-he?”
“You stole what?”
“A bay-he.”
“You stole what?”
“A bay-he.”
“You stole what?”
“A child.”
“Outta the car, Thornhill.”

And then there's the dizziness if I move my head too much. Go spin around in an office chair for a couple turns and you'll know how it feels. I have this all the time. In addition, my handwriting and typing skills have deteriorated to the point to where my writing looks like that of a psychopath and my delete key is almost broken from overuse. I've lost all fine motor control. Go drink about six drinks (an average, so-so night for me back in the day) and we'll compare our comparisons. I could go on. I don't feel like it.

All this is controlled by the Cerebellum, which is a region of your brain that looks like a Cauliflower. Why they didn't just call this the 'Cauliflower Region' instead of the Cerebellum is anyone's guess. I'll be getting an MRI scan soon and I'm guessing (in decreasing order of probability) that it will show damage to the Cauliflower Region, from years of massive drinking or an exotic genetic disorder, a brain tumor, or maybe it will show nothing and these problems will stop their progression.

I thought I should tell you.