walk

You may have noticed there haven’t been many changes to the froo froo this week. That’s because I’ve got two things coming up that have attracted most of my attention (besides hockey playoffs). The first is that I’m starting a new job, and the second is the Avon Breast Cancer 3-Day walk. These two things are more related than they would initially appear.

Today is my last day at my current job, so I've been in full-on "What are they going to do, fire me?" mode. This is a very nice peace of mind to have, similar, I'm sure, to nirvana. I can douse myself with stale coffee and run naked down the hall, jump up down on my boss' oak table and leather couch, or do nothing but look at internet porn all day. Oh wait, I do that stuff anyway.

They’re throwing a party and everything, which is good because up until now I wasn’t entirely sure I’d been coming to the right office. I’ve worked here for over two years, and I’m still not entirely sure what I do. This might explain why they don’t pay me very much. I’m very worried that at the conclusion of my going away party they’ll ask if I’ve completed all the work I’ve been given the last two years and I’ll only be able to respond with a blank stare. If they ask me what I’ve learned, I’m going to respond honestly and say that I learned where every quality piece of porn on the internet is. That’s really been my crowning achievement to this point. I’ve got bookmarks, cookies, favorites and all sorts of things that tell me which porn I’ve looked at, which porn I should look at next, and which porn I should consider looking at based on porn I’ve looked at in the past. This didn’t do much for me in job interviews though. When interviewers ask what your current job entails, it’s best not to tell them you send pictures of women developing relationships with farm implements to your friends.

My biggest concern about my new job is that they will ask me to do something other than look at porn. I’m not worried because I won’t know how – I’m a pretty smart cookie and pick up on things in mere weeks – but because any assignment they give won’t involve porn, and will detract from the time I am able to look at porn. I’m married now, so looking at porn at home is right out. Incidentally, how do wives know about this? I erase all my cookies, clear my history…yet she just knows. I think she just randomly accuses me and can tell by the look on my face (one that says “YES DEAR YOU HAVE CAUGHT ME DOING SOMETHING BAD DEAR…I wear that look a lot) that she’s right. She asks what the male infatuation with porn is and my only response is that it’s inexplicable, like a woman’s fascination with Oprah’s Book Club and that Baby Story show on the Learning Channel.

Which brings us to the breast cancer walk. I figured since I’ve derived so much pleasure from women’s breasts over the years, I ought to do something in return. The more serious reason I’m undertaking this walk is that my wife had a scare a few years back when she found a lump. Needless to say this scared the living hell out of both of us, because we really knew nothing about breast cancer. Soon we were hearing all sorts of bad medical words like benign cyst and malignant tumor that make plain old “lump” sound much more fun. There is no question I was much happier not knowing any of these words.

Fortunately it turned out to be nothing, but my wife and I decided we should probably do something to raise awareness so women would have more advance knowledge of what to do. Giving money was out (see the above reference to my salary) but getting other people to give money sounded like a good plan. Turns out the best way to get other people to give money is by telling them you’ll walk a really freakin’ long distance if they pay you. Apparently it’s not enough to say, “I’m raising money to combat a terrible disease that can strike your wives, mothers and sisters and for which there is no cure,” you have to add, “and I’ll walk 60 miles.” Which is fine by me; I am by design a lazy fatass (as Howlin’ Wolf used to say, I’m built for comfort, not for speed) so this seemed like a great way to get in shape and do a good thing. My wife, who doesn’t cross the room if she can avoid it, (yet somehow is not a fatass…life can be so unfair) offered to go in spirit. (I love it when people say they’ll do things in spirit – I do lots of things in spirit: save nuns from drowning, win the World Series, draft the Paris Peace Accords, but you don’t see me taking credit for it).

So in two weeks 3,000 others and I will schlep the sunny 60 miles from Frederick, Maryland to Washington, DC. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve raised $1,500 so far, even though I promised to raise $1,900…and if all you weren’t such CHEAP BASTARDS I’ve have it…sorry, I get a little emotional now and then. I’m also in somewhat better shape now than when I started, i.e., I can walk the dog far enough away from my front door that I don’t smell his business when the window is open. My one goal on the walk is to not drop dead. It’s an achievable, easily reached goal, and best of all will allow me to keep looking at porn, which is full of boobies that one day soon, I hope, will never have to learn any bad medical words.