If a Tiger farts in the Woods...

Personally, I would think that Tiger cutting the cheese would help to lower the perception that golf is a stuffy game for old white guys. Apparently this isn't the first time Tiger has let one loose during a match. Good for him. Between him dropping air biscuits and John Daly going on drunken rampages at Hooters, I could learn to finally learn to appreciate the sport.

UPDATE: God knows I can't resist the peepee caca so I came across this here video of another groundbreaker in the golf farting zeitgeist:

But this next vid shows how far golf still has to go to catch up with America's pastime:

Monkey Knife Fight

So I've been a little pre-occupied lately. But here's some of the stuff I've been up to:

Got some more intestine removed. And my appendix. Fun times. Actually, I always knew I would eventually have to have additional surgery after the last time I 'spilled my guts' because the previous instance was an emergency situation (my intestine had perforated and was leaking into my abdomen.) They couldn't take out everything that was messed up because they just had to keep me from, y'know, uh, dying. But this time I had been receiving medical treatment for the previous six months which gave them time to reduce the inflammation and study the problem thoroughly before plunging in.

They removed the appendix as a bonus. They should have taken it out last time, but, y'know, the emergency thing and sometimes things get overlooked in an emergency. Was there anything wrong with my appendix? No. It was perfectly healthy. But, oddly enough, surgeons tend to be, as a group, pretty smart folks. Go figure. See - if they can avoid having to slice you from stem to stern on multiple occasions, they do so. But the appendix can kill you if it breaks and it doesn't really appear to do much in the body do they yank it out just to be safe. In my case, still having my appendix created problems for the doctors studying me because my Crohn's affects me primarily in my terminal ileum. Now your appendix hangs out where the small and large intestines meet. That's where my Crohn's presents itself. So having to differentiate between my disease and my appendix presents a problem. The doctor's can't always tell on the CT scan if it's my appendix that's inflamed or my intestine. So now - problem solved. I ain't got no appendix getting in the way no mo'. And I'll never suffer an appendicitis. Yay for me.

Since they had so much time to prepare for this one, they really did it right. Which has it's downside - I have a perfectly straight, neat little scar that will probably heal so well you won't be able to see it in a few years. That kinda sucks. I really dug my old raggedy scar. I wanted to be able to tell my kids about the 'monkey knife fight' I was in when I received it. I guess I'll just enjoy the scar while I can.

Initially after the surgery it looked like a giant earthworm stapled to my belly. Which was cool:

The shitty thing about the surgery happening when it did was that I missed my beautiful baby sister's wedding to some German guy. In Tuscany. Woulda been a dream vacation. Stupid rotten intestines . . .

She said she'd send pics but so far all I've gotten is one of her and her bridesmaids making poo faces. C'mon, Rob! You've already been married two weeks! Get it together! LA is old hat by now. Focus on entertaining your brother!

I got outta the hospital on June 17th and have been home recovering ever since. I wish I had exciting viking stories to tell you but I have basically just been watching videos, playing video games, writing and slowly but surely rehabbing myself. I now take walks that last for several hours and have gotten my stamina up pretty good. I'm down to 165lbs so I really need to find an extra 30 lbs or so, but progress is being made. Been watching all of Man vs. Wild and that has kept me motivated.

Also just saw Pineapple Express and that really got me fired up about my book. It's a little more over-the-top than my story, but the energy is the same. You should watch it.

Wish I had something exciting to report. The party foe Belgian National Day is this weekend and I'll be dancing with the Flems. So that's cool. Next week I'll being going to the wrong coast for a week of California shenanigans from Tijuana all the way up to San Fran. Donkey shows and Alcatraz! Just what the doctor ordered. If I don't come back with at least one good story of mayhem and hijinks I will be sorely disappointed.

The Butcher Block Spa & Resort, Part I

"It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like."

- Jackie Mason

So it seems I got a little unplanned R&R at Elmhurst Hospital the last week of January. My intestines went and burst a seam again. I had been having some soreness in my lower abdomen and it was swollen and hard to the touch so I went and saw Dr. Agarwal in his apartment/doctor's office to get it checked out.  The pain I was experiencing was different than any I had ever had with Crohn's disease. I was kinda thinking it might be appendicitis. It was not. The kind doctor immediately diagnosed it as an infected abscess in my bowels and I should check myself into the hospital ASAP. I told him I'd think about it.

Thinking about it didn't actually take very long as I awoke the next morning with an EXTREME amount of pain and quickly hauled ass to the ER at Elmhurst Hospital, or as I like to call it, The Butcher Block Spa & Resort.

A Room with a View

It's a fairly liberating feeling to be the only person not shackled to one's bed, yet somehow I felt left out. The ER at Elmhurst is chock full of souls so full of joie de vivre that they must be handcuffed to their beds to make sure they don't burst into song and dance at the pure joy of being there. I guess they didn't feel I was all that happy to be there. I did get a great view, however. My bed was parked perpendicular to the bed of a 'man of the earth' shall we say. And his exposed backside seemed to be covered with some sort of mud wrap. He seemed quite relaxed. Matter of fact, were I not aware that I was in a spa I might think he was passed out drunk. As an orderly wheeled me away to get some 'radiation therapy' I made him promise to give me the same view when I returned. He laughed.

I think he laughed because he knew what was awaiting my return from 'radiation therapy'. Man, this place is popular! It completely filled up while I was away and rather than give me my old space he parked my bed in between two other gentlemen's. Room Upgrade, baby! The Honeymoon Suite! Those guys must have been super VIPs because they both had police escorts.

A nurse came in and pulled the curtains closed. I was getting the velvet rope treatment! I admit it felt good. I asked her why. She replied, "To give you some privacy." I looked around at the six guys inside the curtained-off area with me and nodded.   Yeah! VIP, baby! They didn't really acknowledge me. I guess those guys just take being VIPs for granted. The nurse pulled out a thermometer and told me she wanted to take my rectal temperature. I tried to play it cool like I was used to getting special treatment all the time, but my naivete may have shown through a little when I asked her if she was going to give me flowers first.

- No.

- Can you at least lie to me and tell me you love me?

- No.

Not wishing to feel any more the rube, I rolled over and dropped my britches. She took my temperature and I must say that after that experience I'm not so sure why people are so hot to get VIP access in clubs. Celebrities sure do some weird things.

It was time to check me into my room. As I was being wheeled off to the elevator I heard some guy scream out.

- Y'all don't understand! I gots blood coming out my dick! Now gimme a cuppa ice!

I had to chuckle to myself. If he were a VIP like me, he'd probably get all the ice he wanted...