The Adventures of Half Sack 2 - Cancer Strikes Back

Hello there world! Welcome to my masterpiece comprised of all of my hatred, filth and utter comic experiences. Wherever I may shit, I will shit with pride. Thanks to all of you who read this religiously, you're setting yourself up for fantastic failure. For the others, fuck you and read my mindless blog. I promise it'll make your otherwise uneventful life much more uneventful. Seeing as I'll most likely bash whatever lifestyle you think you lead. Typically, I get responses here and there from brain spazzing fans, who tell me what to write. I would love to share your hatred for 'dumb ass bitches', but because you actually think that's an acceptable terminology, I should fucking kill you. Or when people say, " Write about those stupid chinks who yell." Thanks dick brain, you just named the entire continent of Asia. I truly love you all, especially because you constantly give me inspiration to become a serial killer and go on a mass killing spree. There are tons of you out there who disagree with the plethora of hate that spews from my mouth. To you, open your eyes and brainwash yourself to think like me. Why do I say something so damn cocky? Because I can. And because you're still reading.



So after awhile I got to live under the impression that my cancer has been beaten and there would be no more stress. How wrong I was. I knew from the start that things would not be so damn easy, that cancer just doesn't go away especially if it's fucking inside your nut. Yeah I miss my right hand pal, but things move on and I've become a firm left believer. Emphasis on firm. All jokes aside, of course I feel odd. Of course I feel a little different and distraught. Of course I look at other people and see how carefree they are never having to worry about going through what I did and will. But that doesn't make me spite anything, or anyone. I'm grateful that what I have is curable. I'm happy that one day I'll be cancer-free and hopefully have my own family one day. It's unfortunate that many cancer patients don't live long enough to experience the things I might and that does bug me a little inside. It's not like I consider myself in some kind of cancer patient gang, but now that I've gone through what is nothing compared to most, I feel that I begin to think things through a lot more.

Speaking of which, cancer patients are assholes. Not all of them, but the hot ones. While I was waiting for my blood test to begin, a gorgeous what she looked to be Irish woman was sitting beside me. She began to tear up a little bit, and I assumed it was because of her situation or whatever news she came upon that day. I asked her if there was anything wrong and if I could be of any service. She snapped at me and said that I would never know what she was going through. Now, if I actually cared for this person I would try my utmost best to turn that frown upside down and make her realize how special she is to someone and maybe me. But no. I told her not to assume that everyone's a jerk and to fucking cry to death because with that attitude, you're going to wind up a lonely assface. Not everything was said in those terms but I made sure that her stupid fucking crybaby face shut the hell up and didn't say a damn thing after.

Now that may sound rude, but I assure you I told her off with such elegance. Gentleman-like really. Her ass needed a big fucking smack. Both literally and mentally. What happened after though, she went in and did her thing and as she left she smiled at me walking away. Most likely because she probably thought I was going to kill her. I mean, I do look like a fucking terrorist. Truly though, the patients usually consist of bitter old men, crabby sag piles called women, and young goofballs who think cancer means another way of getting out school. See you at the morgue bitch ass. I know deep down that whatever comes my way, I have no other choice than to fight it. Rocky style. I'm going to fucking destroy the shit out of this cancer, get better and make babies. All in that particular order. I was raised to be a strong man both mentally and spiritually. The physical part is thanks to Markus, that son of a bitch. I knew everything was going to end up with me victorious, yelling out my name in some red-head's bed.

My family however, have took it much harder than I did. I don't know how many times I actually explained it to them that everything will be fine, but knowing them, all they heard was ," OH MY GOD MAMA I'M IN PAIN." To all of my family. Thank you. Thank you for constantly harassing me and asking if my sack is okay and if everything down there is in working order. Thanks for constantly texting me while I'm at work. Thanks for calling me and asking if I'm holding up. I don't know about you guys but I think I'm taking this a hell of a lot lighter than everyone else. Truly though, thank you. I love you guys and I know no matter what, you'll be there. Anyways, next week once again I need to go through more tests and will hopefully decide my outcome. Whether it be chemo or not, one things for sure. I have one huge fucking uniball.