Boo!

The internet can be a beautiful thing. Oh sure, sometimes it doesn’t seem that way, when we’re all subjected to the hatred-filled rantings of a POS like Clint McCance, the school board Trustee who wrote horrible things about gay people (and students in particular) on his Facebook page.

But you know, back in the olden days, a POS like that would go on his way unscathed, content in his bigoted spewings, making the lives of gay kids miserable if ever he had the chance.

However, now we’re in a bright and shiny new era, where any crap like that that you write on FB? Yeah, it gets forwarded and reposted until the next thing you know, there’s a 70,000 person strong Fire Clint McCance page on FB, and then your sorry ass is on Anderson Cooper, where you’re skewered like you deserve, and you find yourself resigning, though thanks to Google, your name will always be in the public memory bank. Thank you Google.

But where was I? Oh yeah. The internets. Anyway, my point being that in the process of the Pinkapalooza contest, I wound up with a winning entry submitted by Original PV on Slowtwitch – an entry that’ll be revealed over the next couple of days. But I also wound up corresponding with a really cool guy, who’s dealt enough with the fucking cancer with his family and friends, and who I’m proud to call a friend.

Especially since he carved this, just for me:

Happy Halloween, Ryan! And I’m sending a hearty “Fuck Cancer!” to your grandmother and your roommate’s mom as well. When I meet up with my CancerChick friends in Philly in a couple of weeks for a conference, we’ll be raising a hearty toast to both of them, and to you and all those who love them…..

I know, I know.......

I fully realize that there are numerous questions roiling around the Blogosphere: will Tasha be cured by month's end? Just how bad can the Pinkapalooza stuff get? Is Charlie Sheen the biggest fuckup to walk the face of this earth or what?

And of course the key question: WHO will win the Pinkapalooza contest??

To which I say: patience, young grasshoppers, patience.

Because I know this is hard to believe - I find it hard to believe too - but once in a great while Miss Tasha must needs put her talents to work not in the way she'd wish, aka in entertaining her fifteens of readers in BlogLand, but rather in actually getting some work done. That's the point I'm at right now, needing to finish some work before the epic posting of Inspirational Pink Shit recommences.

I actually do have a number of additional entries that go into the Hall of Fame category, but fear not, the next posts will focus on the Hall of Shame, and then the Hall of WTF. Because some things just can't wait.

To tide you all over in the meantime, behold:


Now, I know what you're all thinking. You're asking yourselves, WTF, are those pasties? Like, the things that go over nipples?? In the shape of pink ribbons, with glitter and all?

The answer to that would be yes. Or, as the company that makes this horror puts it:

"These couture breast cancer nipple pasties are the perfect emblem for younger women who are becoming more conscious about issues pertaining to breast cancer. They are also perfect for a little fun!"

I have to admit, I don't get either part of this, the "becoming more conscious" or "perfect for a little fun." How the hell are pasties going to make you more aware of BC, just because they're in the shape of a fricking ribbon?? And fun? Under what conditions would one actually wear these? Doing a striptease for your husband, say, after reconstruction? Except oops, you haven't had the nipple recon yet.

Again, I just say, WTF.

And think about it - these aren't even a real frontrunner in the Hall of Shame category. I know, it boggles the mind.....

The Pinkapalooza Project

So my little blog that’s sweeping the nation has been inundated with pictures of Pinkishness from every corner of the globe. Pinktober literally has it all. Cheerleaders! Snack foods! Sugary beverages! Office supplies! Did I mention the cheerleaders??? Oh yeah, I think I did.

But that’s not what today is about. Nope. Today, we start putting forth images of some of the billions of items of pink crap – I mean, Inspiring Messages of Hope – that are out there in Pinktober, and hopefully not at any other time of year. Well, except for some of them, which are too cute for words, and which I want, desperately (have I mentioned that I’m so not above being bribed? I think I have.). So to sum it up, we have three categories for the Pinkapalooza contest.

The Hall of Fame: the cute Pinkishness stuff that any sane person would want to add to their collection

The Hall of Shame: the stuff that’s so insulting that it calls for an outraged letter or two, or just a blog-based smear campaign

The Hall of WTF: the stuff that’s so bizarre and inexplicable that the people who came up with it must have been on very heavy psychotropic medication, for years

We’ve already had some of the entrants on here – who can forget the Glowsticks, generously doled out by Dr. Fine’s office, aka the Plastic Surgeons to the Stars? And then there was the Delta Flight Attendant Horror, burpling elbow flesh and all. So those won’t be repeated here, but certainly, they’re still in the running. Right now we’re focusing on new entrants.

And so, without further ado, and in no particular order, we start with the latest Hall of Fame entrants:

1. Turtles for the Cure, by Jennifer P.

Imagine my delight and surprise when I received the following in the mail one day:

Yes, chocolatey-caramely-nutty goodness, also known as Turtles! And even better, festooned with those cheerful pink ribbons. Hell, I don’t care what they festoon it with – it’s chocolate. Sent by my dear friend Jennifer Pick, a college roommate who paints the most amazing artwork that will get its own blog post soon. But in the meantime, it can be said about Jennifer that she understands the concept of “Tasha likes free stuff.”

2. Harmoneeeeeeeeeeee, by Alert Reader Jen H-S

Of course, my first thought upon seeing this was to ask, WTH? Is this a cartoon character? What the heck exactly is a Harmonee?

Then I learned the following:

Every year since 2001, Chevron has presented a Special Edition Chevron Car to raise awareness about finding a cure for breast cancer. This year, Chevron is proud to introduce Harmonee, the 10th edition in a long line of Special Edition Chevron Car designed to raise awareness about finding a cure for breast cancer. Harmonee reminds us that a cheerful nature and willingness to help can go a long way to help support those fighting against breast cancer.

Chevron and your local dealer are proud to contribute all net proceeds from the sale of this special edition toy car to promote the early detection of breast cancer. The folks at Chevron thank you for your purchase of Harmonee.

And then the only thought in my head was this: WANT. Especially since the cheerfulness of little Harmoneeee will give me, the Cancerous, all kind of Hope in my fight against BC. Just like a shiny Mylar balloon, squeaking away, so too will Harmonee spur me to fight on. Courage.

3. Liverwurst for the Cure, also by Jen H-S

Fountain Hills, AZ is apparently ground zero for all sorts of Pinkishness, the kinds of things that those of us here in the Midwest aren’t privy to. I guess the stores here are anti-Cure or something, because *I* sure don’t see anything like this at MY deli:

What’s especially touching about this is the juxtaposition of the Boar’s Head For The Cure balloon, by the one for chicken breasts. Brilliant, just brilliant.

4. Real chips For The Cure, Jen H-S

Jen has been a one-woman Pinkishness-seeking-out machine! So we have her to thank for this:

Yes, finally some REAL fucking chips For The Cure! None of that baked crap that’s all healthy and shit. Hey, we have cancer, we’re not nuns here, okay? Give us the damn Fritos and no one will get hurt.

Oh, did I mention that the cancer drugs make us all surly, hence the name FatSurly for Tamoxifen? Just thought I’d mention that, in case anyone had forgotten.

5. Ativan dispenser, by Deanna Doohaluk

At least I *think* it’s Ativan, or some other kind of good drug. Otherwise, what’s the point?

6. Balloons everywhere, by Jen H-S

I really hope I wind up in the hospital for something very minor at some point, maybe an additional adjustment to the Boobages, just so that there’s the opportunity for someone to bring me one of these:

Shiny happy Mylar balloons, in the shape of a pink ribbon no less! What could be more cheerful and hopeful? Not much I tell you, not much….

7. The pink face huggie

I can only say one thing about this: WANT!

8. The White House

Apparently the Obamas are For The Cure – I’m sure that’s because they’re Democrats. I don’t recall the Bush White House doing anything like this, hmm….??

9. Lourdes

Hey, I'm no fool - you think I'm going to be making snarky comments about the People upstairs? When I already have cancer and stuff? Uh uh....

10. Pink Post-its

I LOVE these! In fact, I truly think the lack of Pinkishness Post-its in every household is one of the key reasons that we’re thus far not even the tiniest bit close to a cure. People forget about it! But if they had these, well, imagine the possibilities. “Note to self: Discover Cure Today!” See what a difference that could make?

11. Yoplait lids by TigerChik

You’ve gotta admire the dedication to licking those yucky little lids and throwing their sticky little selves into an envelope for some prison inmate on work release to open. Anything For The Cure though, right?

12. Kona for the Cure

Obviously I’ve been the one slacking off here. Off to buy a doggy coat AND a pink ribbon collar!

13. Pink food tray, by Arlyn

Again, want! How much more festive can one be than serving guests from a pink ribbon food tray?? I don’t know what the heck one would use these for, for what occasion, but maybe they’re all purpose, all the time. Christmas, Easter, post-mastectomy, you name it!

14. AndyBoy produce, by Randymar

I love this. Not only do we have the guys on Slowtwitch taking pictures of produce, but look at that logo! AndyBoy looks a little “special”, does he not? Like one of the Little Rascals, i.e. the one who got locked up in the attic and kept away from sharp objects? Most excellent….

15. Boobages tea cozies, by Mojozenmaster

Not sure if these are meant to keep the Boobages all snuggly and warm, or if they’re actually for tea. But in either case I say, tally ho!

* * * * * * * * *

There’s much much more, kids, but we’ll leave it here for now. Next up we’ll have the really interesting stuff, i.e. things that go into either the Hall of Shame or Hall of WTF category. Not to be missed……

Getting ink done

Once in a great while – not often, mind you – I like to step away from talking about my trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the face of extreme adversity. You know, that whole goddess thing I have going on. And I do so when it behooves me to write about things that my people might find useful, like the cancer shit and all. And then some people wind up thinking – “honey, TMI, okay? Love ya, but really, girlfriend.” To which I say: suck it.

All of which brings me to today’s topic: tattoos. Or more specifically, nipple tattoos. (See, I warned you guys.) Which as you can imagine, is one of those things fraught with apprehension for the nipple-challenged among us, as we think – WTF? Really? Isn’t that going to be, you know, PAINFUL?

An appointment was made, and off I went to the office of Dr. Fine, where I was actually going to meet with Michelle, aka PA to the Stars. Things start off as usual, with Michelle explaining the procedure.

Michelle:……..so after we pick out the right color, I’ll trace the shape that….

Me: Can we do it in any shape? Like, a flower or something fun?

Michelle: I only do circles. Dr. Fine once did a star, but only agreed to it if it could later be made into a circle if need be.

Hmm. Okay, never mind that idea then.

So we’re chit-chatting as Michelle is getting all the stuff ready.

Me: So does Grey’s Anatomy drive you crazy, with all the stuff they get wrong or take liberties with? You know, all the things that us mere mortals would have no idea about?

Michelle: Oh, I can’t even watch that show anymore, it’s so bad.

Me: Ha, so you mean everyone isn’t always getting it on in a broom closet?

Michelle: Well, actually….

Me: No!

Michelle: I guess there is a certain contingent like that, though it’s not common.

Me: Okay then. So, umm (changing the topic)…..do you read any nurses’ blogs?

Michelle is silent for a moment. As soon as I’ve spoken, I’m kicking myself. Shit, now she thinks I think she’s a nurse, which I know she’s not. But now I sound like a dumbass. Geez, why don’t I just pitch everyone into the same category, call them all “technicians” or something?

Michelle: No, can’t say I do. Though I wonder if there are any Physician’s Assistant blogs out there.

Me, scrambling to cover my tracks: Oh, I’m sure there are. Especially since there are doctors’ blogs, ER blogs, you name it.

Me, continuing, hopefully: So do I at least get any good drugs after this? Dilaudid? Whatever that is, it's big in the nursing blogs. Oxycontin? There's bound to be a LOT of pain after this, and I'm kind of a wimp.

Michelle, not moved: Tylenol.

Shit. Let’s face it, I’m still screwed – I’ve just inadvertently pissed off the person about to do my tattoo. Great.

After we get the color matched, Michelle starts injecting a local anesthetic under the fipple, which leads to this kind of dialogue when it hits a nerve or something:

Me: AHHHhhhh! Sorry. I know I’m the problem patient as always.

Michelle, deadpan: Oh, absolutely. Such a problem.

Me: AHHHHHHHhhhhhh! Sorry…..

And so on. But finally that torturous part is over, and the tattooing begins! Except….

Me: AHHHhhhh! Sorry….

Michelle: That shouldn’t hurt. Are you sure it’s pain and not pressure?

Me: It’s definitely pain. AHHhhhh! Sorry….

This continues. The part where the lat flap skin is has no feeling, so that doesn’t hurt. But as soon as it gets to the rest, yep, pain. Definitely pain.

Michelle: Really, pain? Not pressure?

See, I’m thinking this is where I’m paying for my “nurse” remark. I’m obviously an idiot, so everything I say is suspect.

Me: Sigh, it’s pain. But maybe I can just grit my teeth and suck it up?

Michelle: Well, generally with all the surgeries, there are nerves left only on the top, which is where we apply the anesthetic. The ones that run underneath have been cut.

Me: I guess I’m a special case. A freak of nature. It’s a gift.

Michelle, pondering: “Special,” hmm…….oh, where was I? So in any case, sometimes the nerves are still there, so I’ll do the anesthesia deeper.

The needle again, then more tattooing, but this time we’re in business. Pressure, no pain. Whew.

Finally we’re done, and we bandage that puppy up, and I get instructions for the care and feeding of tattoos. Then off to the hallway, where I’m greeted by the other Plastic Surgeon to the Stars, Dr. Schierle.

Me: Hey, your office is a frontrunner in the Pinkapalooza contest! We here at thethighmasterroutetokona really like free stuff.

Dr. Schierle: Outstanding!

Me, adding: And we’re going to wear our glowsticks to the Hockey Fights Cancer Awareness Night game!

Barb: The….what?

Dr. Schierle: The…..how’s that again?

Me: Really, that’s what they call it. Hockey Fights Cancer Awareness. I know….but we have to remember, they’re hockey players.

Barb: Ah, good point.

Dr. Schierle: Well here, let me heap more of these glowsticks on you to take to the game!

These people clearly understand me. Clearly.

Dr. Schierle: That’ll keep us in first place, right?

Me: Well, it should. The problem is that there’s some truly scary Pinkishness stuff out there.

Dr. S.: How about having different categories? Like say…..a Hall of Fame? And a Hall of Shame!

Me, gaping at Dr. S.: Why…..that’s brilliant! I love it! I’m going to steal that idea and call it my own. But you guys will still be in the running for a hat.

Dr. S.: Excellent!

And so it has been spoken, and so it shall be done. Though in addition to the above categories, I’m also adding one called the Hall of WTF – for those entries that are neither way cool, nor way offensive, but just…..puzzling. To the extreme. In a “Huh? What the hell were they thinking” kind of way.

Oh yes, there are plenty of those out there too, trust me…..

Oh, and as for that tattoo? Yeah, it hurts like a sonofabitch, even now, days later. Still oozing, bleeding, makes it hard to drive because of the damn seat belt going over my chest. But you know, in the grand scheme of things as far as SurgeryLand and TreatmentWorld are concerned, it’s not that big a deal. My recommendation: drink early, drink often. I suggest shots of the Bloody Fipple (credit to Kim, who thought this one up, or at least something very similar):: pomegranate juice, flavored vodka, splash of amaretto. Bottoms up!

The internets is scaring me

And this isn’t even about the Pinkishness. Where I must say, I’ve created a monster. But more about that later.

Anyway, you know how it is – there you are, diligently working away, doing what you can to bring in some money to keep the pigs ears rolling in and thus your home in a state of happy harmony. Then someone sends you an email with a link to something, which you decide to check out in between your bouts of diligence. That link leads to a page with other interesting stories, so you check those out. And so on. And the next thing you know, after signing a petition or two, writing a scathing letter, and commenting on 6 or 54 news stories and blogs, you find yourself avidly reading an article entitled "The 25 Craziest Food Creations 2010."

Now, some of these things are just silly, like the fried seafood platter from some fast-food fish place. Umm, hello, what did you think you’d get there, grilled tilapia? No. They serve fried fish to people who want it fast, and they don’t need people like you around to give the joint atmosphere. So you two pixies out the door……oops, sorry, I was channeling Nick the mean bartender from It’s a Wonderful Life there for a moment. Where was I?

Oh yeah, crayzee food. The other thing is that this article is written by the wacky people who came up with the “Eat this not that” concept. Where they exhort you that instead of eating that celebratory steak to mark your 50 years of working in the salt mine at a restaurant you can afford to go to once a year, instead you should have a veggie platter, because doncha know, it has fewer calories. Really? Who knew?

Or they’ll mention that when you make that daily trip to Hardee’s for your Mega-Double-Baconator-Burgarific-Burger, that you should tone it down a bit and have a fruit salad and some yogurt. Because we all go to Hardee’s for yogurt. Right. And I wonder, who exactly is their audience here? If you go to Hardee’s once a year, like most of us, you’re going to order what you damn well please. If you go there every day like some segment of the populace, you’re very likely to not give a shit.

But all of that isn’t what stopped me in my tracks, what made me wonder what we as a country are coming to, this kind of lawlessness and total disregard for the basic mores of society. Because then I saw this:

Yes, kids, Denny’s Fried Cheese Melt. Or, something you get “by driving four deep-fried cheese sticks into the core of the sandwich. So what you end up with are cheese sticks with extra cheese between slabs of buttered bread and a pile of fried potatoes on the side.”

My soul died a little when I saw that. But wait, there’s more! Behold:

New York Cheesecake Pancakes at IHOP – described as fluffy pancakes with gooey hunks of cheesecake.

Much as I like crappy food and am always happy to be introduced to the latest and greatest in this category (hello raspberry Zingers!), this is just…..wrong. On so many levels. Please, let’s stop the madness before it’s too late. Who’s with me? Bueller?

So much Pinkishness, so little time….

I am now realizing that I could bedeck my entire home – nay, my entire life – with Pink For The Cure stuff…..and I’d still not have enough room for all this crap. I mean, inspiring tangible messages of Hope.

But because there’s not enough bandwidth in the whole inter-nets for me to put up all the pictures of stuff, and then add my own commentary to boot, for this post I’m just going to throw up a bunch of pics, so that you too can marvel at the bounty that awaits those searching for The Cure. At least as far as buying The Cure is concerned. Or eating – let’s not forget that for this month of Pinktober, I’m eating nothing but Pinkishness foods in hopes of being cured by the end of the month.

Let’s just say that I’m in no danger of starving.

One other note I should mention here in terms of the contest – and this is very important. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I am not above being bribed. This is not a democracy here, people. There will be no common vote. I decide who wins the Fuck Cancer hat. Yep, send me free stuff and it is just amazing how quickly you can move up in the standings.

Hence why Dr. Fine’s office and their Glowsticks For The Cure are top 5 in the “Hall of Fame” category – because every time I go there, they keep heaping pink glowsticks on me. And who wouldn’t like that?

So Jen H-S and little Harmonee, I’m talkin’ to you. Oh, and Jennifer P., you and your awesome gift (which I have to take a picture of) are already way up there.

I’m just sayin.’

So, behold today’s collage of awesome Pinkishness! There will be more to come later – that’ll be the stuff that begs for commentary, and so it shall be….