dad in town for a couple weeks, got a prostate procedure done on tues and was told he could fly 15 hours from bahrain to california. NOT. developed complications on the plane and drove through extreme pain from SF to Santa Clara (at LEAST 45 min) which was dangerous as hell. Near collapsing, I got him to the ER and got him taken care of. he's resting and going to have to be careful and do some follow up care for the next week but MAN. scared the shit out of me. i was crying while helping him walk because he could barely move he was in so much pain. that's a terrible thing to see, your parent fragile and in so much pain and helpless.

in other news, i loathe my boss with a passion and seriously wish him some physical harm. he's a useless dolt who harms his underlings with his bad management and bravura, and he totally disregards women and takes credit for their work. i want a karma ball to burst through the entire fucking company and bring justice to us all.

So I guess I stopped writing about the jamba boy right around the time I started getting stressed, annoyed, and bored with the whole thing. Bored because who can stay intrigued and interested in someone who is a 10 year old in a 20 yr old's body with the mind of a redneck and the pecker the size of a papaya? After a while it gets old. I got tired of picking him up in the middle of the night and sneaking around and feeling like an all around idiot so it ended swiftly and permanently without any real goodbyes in February 2004.

And then of course I had to deal with medical issues and another surgery and while I had lost some weight I've gained some back and we shall now record me at : 223. I began at 252, so this number is still good. However, there was a time I was at 213. So, this number is not good enough. I gotta make some progress.

I have 2 months (til Aug 3) to lose some hard core weight so I can look decent in Vegas at our family reunion. Oh yeah.