Clark’s been having a lot of good days lately. The pain in his leg is significantly less severe, and the other day he stood up straight-backed for the first time in weeks. I can just tell by looking at him that he’s more comfortable. He’s tolerating the chemo pretty well, and the other day, baby Joey came over:

Every day is a new adventure in chemo side effects. Will he be super-constipated today? … or maybe, we’ll have a poop-pocalypse on our hands. Some days I am drinking protein shakes I made for him that include not only protein powder, but whole milk and ice cream as well, and other days he drinks it all himself. But through it all … “we start the week with a bang, and end the week with a bang,” as Clark said today.

What is he referring to? Our Monday night television ritual, of course! There are two solid hours of “Intervention” followed by a Spencer-solid episode of “The Hills,” followed by a solid 10:30 p.m. bedtime. 

Right now, it’s a good half hour before it’s time to change the channel to A&E. And I’ve done all the dishes and the laundry’s going and Clark’s having a snooze. I’m bored, and nothing besides ‘ANTM’ reruns are on TV. I’m really, really wrestling with scanning ahead on the cable to see which episodes of “Intervention” will air tonight. Will they be reruns? If it’s a rerun, is it one of my all-time favorite reruns? Or is it one of the episodes with a painkiller-popping mom and really sad children? 

If I scan ahead, and it’s one of those sad-mom episodes, I’m likely to skip it and try to find something else to do, even though that ruins what had been shaping up to be an amazing night of television awesomeness. If I don’t cheat, and I go to the channel and discover a crappy episode WHILE IT’S AIRING, I’m more likely to just watch it anyway. Why change it at that point?

So do I want to prevent myself from getting stuck watching a crappy episode? Or should I just handle what I’m dealt at 8 p.m.? Probably the latter at this point.

Guess what! Root canals, as in “I would rather have a root canal …,” aren’t so bad. I think it helps if your dentist is as adorable and as teensy and Costa Rican as mine. But yeah, an hour in and we were totally done, and I was totally numb, and I was too confused to care!

Last night Clark’s friend told him that he should probably go to the root canal with me to help me get home afterwards. Really? Did they forget to numb him when they did his? Because I couldn’t feel shit. 

The only awful part was when adorable dentist lady said, “Well, this was only supposed to be a consultation (whoops on my part), but since you’re in pain and there’s a LOT of decay, I can do the root canal now.” 

A PART OF ME WAS ROTTING. I WAS ROTTING FROM THE INSIDE.

In other news, Bally Total Fitness, a gym with which I had a membership in 2005, calls my cell phone 1 – 2 times per day. Is someone trying to tell me something?

Like, how does she never cease to amaze? She CONSISTENTLY puts out amazing singles. The latest “If I Were A Boy / Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” pair of releases just blows my effing mind. First, she tackles, with a pure vocal miracle, the friction between the male and female roles in a long-term relationship. And while the subject matter of “Single Ladies” isn’t very … feminist, the song is still so good. Also, like, sure, I was really really really really really pleased to see Justin Timberlake shake around in a leotard and heels on SNL this weekend (despite the sort of homophobic nature of the entire episode). But after repeated watches, I find myself looking at Beyonce dance instead. She is AMAZING! I like especially when she does that walk / hip-pop move.

Also my love/hate relationship with the Gawker blogs’ posts about “The View” is getting out of hand. Today I went to the show’s Web site to submit a comment to the producer about Sherri and Elisabeth, who are both mentally retarded. I am insane.

It’s these little loves and battles that keep me awake during the day. I’ve slept maybe 10 hours over the past two nights. But Elisabeth Hasselback and a cup of coffee are totally enough to wake me up. And if I don’t want to have a heart attack, I will just listen to Beyonce.

When I am writing in my little journal thing on the metro, usually calculating finances or making notes to myself or sometimes even writing some obviously very poignant prose, I am FIERCE about my privacy. I hook my arm around the notebook to prevent anyone from even getting even a single glimpse at what I’m writing.

However, the other day when I was on the metro, I saw a normal-looking old dude writing in HIS notebook, and I saw that he was making a “to-do” list, and I creepily read what he was writing like a creepster because I am nosy and weird.

I also try to see what people are listening to on their iPods. Alyson does the same thing, she told me she saw some chick listening to “Summer Girls” (as in that song by LFO) one day. Like, really? Not even when that song was out on the radio was it acceptable.

So, I’m a hypocrite. And a creepy weirdo. Whatever.

Remember when I wrote a little Gridskipper (R.I.P.) blog post about D.C.’s worst DJ and dance nights, and then all those BYT assholes had a shitfit and tried to say that I was wrong?

Well, I’m sitting at work at Blisspop, and that Tittsworth dude is DJing here again. I mistakenly called whatever it is he’s spinning “trance” in the original article, which led a bunch of b-holes to be like, “TITTSWORTH IS NOT TRANCE” on various message boards / comment pages.

Listen. Again, I don’t know what the fuck this is that he’s playing right now. But it fucking blows. Hard. And so does every single person at this bullshit show.

I am a spaz about certain things. But I thought that my spazziness didn’t make me weird in the situation of having a place to live exactly two months from now. However, apparently it does because every dude listing an apartment on Craigslist wants you to move in this goddamn weekend!

My roommate was like, yeah, it’s for people who just move here. But like, if I just moved here, it would most likely mean that I would have known, probably, at least a month in advance that I was going to move to a new city in which the rent for a 1 BR is like, $1500-$1700!

But no. Also, if you want to move into a building with like, a doorman and a management company, like my building now, you better get on finding an apartment like, three months in advance. So there’s this window period of time wherein it is impossible for one to find an apartment, yet, where it is most reasonable that a person would WANT to find an apartment. See what I’m saying? STRAIGHT UP RETARDED.

Today Clark and I are going to see a place that is AMAZING and BEAUTIFUL and in the PERFECT LOCATION. He wants to rent it October 1 (reasonable), however, I need October 15 for finansh reasons. If he doesn’t find anyone else to rent it to or needs some extra time to do repairs, we could be in. Please pray that he is an easily charmed gay man who will a) think Clark and I are a perfect and adorable couple and b) be impressed with the fact that I work at the Blade, even though secretly I want to run screaming from the office, tearing down computers on my way out.

It’s official, I think, that I am a non-smoker. Today is day 13 of no smoking, and I’m pretty sure the lack of nicotine isn’t affecting my behavior in any way. THEN WHY AM I HAVING CONVERSATIONS IN MY HEAD WITH TOURISTS IN WHICH I AM YELLING AT THEM FOR LEAVING THEIR HOTEL ROOMS DURING MY COMMUTE?

Seriously. Today, two stops from the Dupont Metro, a father and his two sons, one COMPLETELY decked out in shiny Lakers jersey attire, got on the bus at 9:30 a.m. and held us up for like, 3 minutes whlie he uncrinkled the WHAT SEEMED LIKE million dollars it takes for them to ride the bus three stops. Couldn’t this wait, like, an hour? Whatever it is you’re doing?

Also, old people. A couple I would normally see as cute, sixty-somethings with fannypacks FILLED ME WITH RAGE. The man actually said, out loud, to nobody, “I haven’t been on a bus this full since high school.” MAYBE THATS BECAUSE WE ALL, YOU KNOW, HAVE JOBS. AND WE’RE TRYING TO GET TO WORK IN A TIMELY MANNER, YOU FOOL. You making INANE COMMENTS like that just makes this interminable bus ride THAT MUCH MORE UNBEARABLE.

I’m pretty sure if I were still a smoker, I’d still be thinking these things.

Not only did Clark asked me if I checked his shorts pockets before I did laundry this weekend, I DID. And saved his wallet from peril. Alas, he has a few pockets on this particular pair of shorts, and his phone was forgotten and subsequently, yes, washed and dried.

When I opened the dryer and took out most of the clothes, the first thing I saw was a battery. FUCK! The whole thing had not only gone through wash, rinse and spin, but it had also come apart in the dryer at a very high temperature.

I went upstairs and broke the news. After I did, Clark put the phone back together and .. it turned on. Brett called him. He spoke to him. I sent a text. The phone works.

HOW? BUY THIS PHONE. THE MOTOROLA L6.

Actually, you should probably only buy it if you’re as big of an idiot as I am.

I watch A&E for a good two hours straight on Monday nights because of my favorite show, “Intervention.” These two commercials air back-to-back about four times during that two hours:

OKAY. First off, if you need a marker, you’re going to get a Sharpie. Sharpies are fun. I love writing with them; it’s eerily satisfying. WHY, OH WHY, do they need DAVID BECKHAM to help them sell thse deliciously tipped pen treats? How much are they paying him? Moving? Get a Sharpie to mark all of your boxes. Sharpie is like, a term used for any marker even when it’s NOT a Sharpie. David Beckham? Really? Like, Kathy Griffin would’ve been cheaper, though no celebrity is necessary.

University of Phoenix – The New Pornographers? Not a connection I would make. People who listen to the New Pornographers heard about them in college. That one’s just kind of weird to me, but it seems like the University of Phoenix is a bit more legit than I previously thought based on the quality of this commercial and the music chosen.