I'm going to whine a bit, okay a shitload, so move on if you're not in the mood for my pissass, pathetic, venting.

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Bell's palsy is a disorder caused by damage to cranial nerve VII, involving sudden facial drooping and decreased ability to move the face.

A little over three years ago, I had just started seeing the Girl again (time number 3, for those counting). While she was off in Cozumel on a scuba trip, my roommate (a college hockey teammate and fellow Montanan) and I went for a night out. We got a big 'ol bucket o' chicken, a case of beer, and went to a Drive-In Movie. We were white-trashing it up, and it was great. I figured I'd go all out and pack my cheek full of some tobacky. This was fine, except my lip was kind of numb. I thought nothing of it until I went to spit, and most of the viscous, brown, juice went down the side of my face.

At first, I thought I must be drunk, and I forgot about it, figuring that, at the very worst, I must have been bitten by some disease-ridden, Amazonian, insect.

The next morning, my cheek was also numb, and the right side of my mouth didn't line up with the rest of my mouth when I smiled.

A few days passed, and I eventually lost the ability to close my right eye completely. The Mom, and her LifePartner, were both nurses, so I consulted them on their vast medical expertise. Neither really knew, but LifePartner speculated that it may be Bell's Palsy, as she'd seen it recently in a friend's patient.

A day later, I was wearing an eyepatch to keep that fucking thing closed, lest it dry out. I spent most of my day at work scouring the internet for information on this disease that I supposedly had. The results of my searches were not very reassuring. No one seemed to know how or why someone contracts it, and it can last anywhere from a couple weeks, to the rest of my goddam life.

Eating got messier and messier, and I drooled almost constantly. It was like being at a party where you drink and drink, yet don't feel drunk, despite the fact that your body is rebelling against you. Oh, and I got to wear a cool-ass eyepatch. YARRR!!!!

I signed on to numerous forums that were mostly designed for people to lend support to one another. As is usual, I kept high spirits, and made far, far too many pirate jokes (here's to you, Bethie-baby). Everyone else seemed to want to feel their deserved self-pity, but I just wanted to know that there was a good chance that I'd heal and some day be able to display my shit-eating grin again in all it's glory.

After 5 days, the entire right side of my face was completely numb and drooped clear down into my lap. I looked like the fucking Theatre Masks, built from two into one, and to say it was disconcerting would be a tremendous understatement.

I still lived my life as normal and was to this day, the best goddam one-eyed fuckin' goalie that my hockey league had ever seen.

I still knew that something was terribly wrong though, and I could only pray that time would take care of it.

It did, and three weeks later, I was fine.

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My body, my life, and my self all feel like that right now. I feel numb, but not completely numb. I feel like a part of me has completely lost feeling, and it is utterly useless until the proper passage of time can heal it.

There are benefits to this, much like the gleeful overusage of my pirate jokes, as I don't seem to get hangovers anymore, despite how much I drink and how little sleep I get. I am no longer hungry, for anything, and I eat only to provide my body with the fuel it needs to continue functioning in it's current capacity. Caffeine is wonderful for this as well, and bless WarCry for her suggestion on the combination of Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar. I am wired from 9 to 6, and it's fucking great. I've switched back to beer from wine, because I'm not as hungry in the morning after a twelve pack the night before, as I am when I down a liter and a half of cheap Chardonnay. Funny the things we learn.

The Girl, completely expectedly, has thrown all the brakes and the E-brake, on any semblance of what we had before, and has moved on so completely that I wonder at times what the hell we were even doing together in the first place. This is how she is, and I knew this, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less when she acts like she never gave 3 shits about me in the first place. All that I was to her, all I tried to be, is seemingly discarded in favor of her rediscovered "freedom" from me.

I am not in a good place, and she seems fine, and already has her a pseudo-boyfriend. I say 'pseudo' to be polite, as I won't write how I really feel about her 'dating' activities. This guy is now on our 9-ball pool team, and last night after we talked, I did one of the first completely self-serving acts of this Post-Relationship Apocalypse.

I quit the team.

I don't need that shit in my life.

I may not have handled things well with everything that went on, but I never rubbed her fucking nose in it.

Jesus, sorry, some pent-up hostility coming out, and I'm sorry, but I don't give a fuck who that bothers.

Yes, I'm drunk, but it's MY diary.

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Work, as much as I muddle through it begrudgingly, is fucking fantastic, and I am gaining status and recognition for my perceived brilliance. To continue this perception will require diligent application of this brilliance though, and I'm not great about that right now. Thank Dog for a great boss, who knows whats going on, and who tells me over lunch about how he wrote some really great poetry after he caught his first fianc� in bed with another man.

Great News on the Homosexual front too, Flam is back, in his temp role, and things are once again decidedly pink in CubeWorld. Apparently, Flam is a kickass DodgeBall player too, and Gayb0y and his husband of 12 years, Rainman, are all a-twitter to have their l'il buddy back at our company.

I confess, I'm happy to see him too, because most of my outrageously Un-PC gay jokes were getting a little old for Gayb0y. Rainman doesn't really pay any attention to anything other than CompanyData anyway, so he hasn't missed anything, but I've had some real beauties.

A great moment happened though, when CoWorkerBuddy and I were discussing High School "Most Likely" voting. CoWorkerBuddy confessed rather sheepishly that he was voted "Best Smile" right after I told him happily that I was voted "Most Likely To Use Laughter As A Way Out Of Significant Jailtime" as well as "Most Likely To Face Significant Jailtime For Sexual Harrassment." Apparently, I was a bit of a horny jackass in High School. I still don't see it (naked pictures ladies, keep 'em comin'... HA!).

This is when Gayb0y stepped in and announced proudly that in High School he was voted, "Best Swish." Our eruption of laughter almost drowned out Flam's announcement that he was voted "Most Likely To Set A New World Record For Eating C0ck."

That's wrong in so many ways, but I haven't laughed that hard in a month.

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Tomorrow is a Halloween dress-up day, and I'm taking my camera to capture those with which I share my light-hearted work days. I'm cheesing out, and simply wearing the Utilikilt that I recently discovered hiding subversively in, of all goddam places, my fucking closet.

So, pictures to come, and thanks for putting up with my incredibly whiny bullshit.