I guess I’m in a battle with cancer now, but it doesn’t really feel that way to me. So far, my main attack strategy has been to sit on the couch and watch House Hunters and eat burritos. Seriously, I have eaten like five burritos in the last four days. For some reason, burritos are the only thing I feel like eating. They’re warm and gooey and doughy and delicious, and being a born-and-bred Angelino, I was pretty much raised on them. Burritos are to me what mac ‘n’ cheese is to normal people. I think I’ve ordered a burrito from every place within a 15 mile radius of my house, and they’re all varying degrees of delicious.
El Sol: A+. The gold standard. This place is the tits. I should probably erase that phrase from my vocabulary.
Mijares: A. Massive. This burrito was bigger than my head. Became almost 3 meals.
Los Gringos Locos: A-. Too many green chiles.
Fiesta Grande: A-. Stingy with the ranchero sauce. Also this place has a B rating, but when you have cancer, food poisoning is amateur hour when it comes to diseases, so who cares.
As you can see, no burrito gets lower than an A- because they’re all awesome by virtue of being burritos.
In far more relevant news, my surgery is scheduled. January 14. Both breasts are coming off, but we can rebuild me. We have the technology.
To celebrate the fact that I will hopefully be tumor-free and ready for the internal atom bomb of chemotherapy a week from Monday, I decided to go out to bars in Venice with some of my friends from the Brandcenter who either live in LA or are home for the break. Of course we talked about my news, but the only time I got choked up was when I talked about how incredibly supportive and amazing everyone has been. Truly, your love and kindness are far more moving than cancer could ever dream of being.
We wanted to go downstairs to this cool speakeasy part of the bar, but I didn’t have the $5 needed for the cover. I jokingly suggested that I try playing my cancer card, and everyone got really excited that I might be able to get something good out of this crappy situation. I felt kind of bad, but what the hell? I have cancer. So I told the bouncer about my situation and explained that I was having surgery and we were all raising our glasses to my new, boobless life before I went under the knife. I told her I could prove it and whipped out my literal cancer card. She actually got misty and said “That’s so sad!” Then she stamped me and let me go downstairs for free. Once I was down at the bar, the free drinks started flowing, too. Thanks, cancer!
Although I was hesitant about going out and partying when the inside of my head feels like Chernobyl, I’m really glad that I did. My friends are amazing people, and Evelynne, Kirstie, Gary, Sam, Catherine, Jasmeet, Emily – thank you all for letting me feel like a normal, cancer-free 25 year old, sippin’ sizzurp, dancing and rejecting dudes’ advances with the most toxic shut-down ever: “No, I don’t want to give you my number, I have cancer and won’t have boobs anymore in 10 days.”