Tag Archives: cancer

Fourth time’s a charm

Entourage-MovieIt started out as a joke between my friend Wendy and her husband.

“You’d have to pay me $10,000 to go see the Entourage movie.

Wendy had the gumption to turn the joke into a GoFundMe campaign to raise money for CureSearch, which supports research for pediatric cancers.

One short week later, thanks to the generosity of friends and family and countless others who only know Wendy’s story through word of mouth, articles and blogs like mine, ‘the joke’ has now raised over $30,000.

Wendy is closing the GoFundMe page and, as promised, is going to:

  • See the Entourage movie not once, not twice, but four times
  • Wear ‘Drama Mama’ pajamas to the theater
  • Drink her favorite beverage from a specially-designed Turtle cup

And donors that contributed funds at the higher levels get to come along to the theater and witness Wendy’s exquisite agony.

Thank you for your donations. And enjoy the show!

Drama mama update

Since my post last night, my friend Wendy Molyneux (who also happens to be a writer for Bob’s Burgers) has, as of 3pm ET today, raised almost $8,800 for CureSearch.

Because she hates Entourage and really does not want to see the movie.  And hates pediatric cancers even more.

drama mama pjsTo up the ante, she has promised to wear this lovely ‘drama mama’ pajama ensemble to the theater if she raises her goal of $10,000 by midnight tonight PT. She’ll also likely tweet her agony to the masses, and that will be hilarious.

So give if you can.  We both appreciate it.

Update to the update:

We did it!  Wendy has already well-surpassed her $10,000 goal!  But she is giving you new reasons to give (besides the obvious to help fight cancer).  Here is her latest post:

Well, this has not worked out very well. Thanks to all of the terrible people I know and a bunch of awful strangers I’ve NEVER EVEN MET WHO CARE ABOUT CHILDREN’S CANCER, I’ve reached 10K in one day. If this madness continues, I am going to have to drink movie soda out of a Turtle sipper my effing sister made (if this hits 15K),  AND if for some reason this goes on all the way to 20K I am going to have to see this movie twice. TWICE. This is a mess. All I know is this nightmare will end on June 3rd when Entourage premieres and the world as we know it ends. Screw all of you and your goddamned BIG HEARTS. You are the worst.

Told you she was hilarious.

That’s the ticket

Entourage-MovieI never watched Entourage.

Much like Lost, Mad Men and The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, I just didn’t get around to it.

Yet after each season was over, I survived without them.

And I felt stronger. Better. Faster.

My friend Wendy Molyneux, who happens to be a writer for the very watchable and Emmy-winning Bob’s Burgers, not only didn’t watch Entourage, she hated it. With a singular passion.

In fact, the only way she will watch the new Entourage movie is if she can raise $10,000 to donate to CureSearch. Because she hates pediatric cancers even more than she  hates Entourage.

Me, I hate every kind of cancer. And I want to help Wendy raise the money as quickly as possible. Plus, I kinda love the idea of her sitting through this film. She’ll probably tweet her agony to the masses, and that will be hilarious.

So give if you can.  We both appreciate it.

No fault

I saw the movie The Fault in Our Stars today.


I hadn’t read the book, so I could judge it on face value. No expectations. No preconceived notions. No condemnation for any meandering from the original plot.

But I’m pretty sure that, even if I’d been watching with a more critical eye, I still would have been bowled over by Augustus and Hazel Grace.

I am not a fan of cancer movies — when you have experienced the unhappy ending in real life , it’s hard to get on board for the journey on film — but I was transfixed by theses two kids’ humor and courage and life in the face of certain death.

The cast was exceptional all-around, and while I don’t know what parts were true to the original text and was what added later, to my eye it was seamless and sensitive.



Bear it

Yesterday I attended an advance screening of 50/50, the new Seth Rogen film starring Joseph-Gordon Levitt as a 27-year old cancer patient.

It’s obvious from the marketing that this movie is taking a more lighthearted approach to this terrible disease.

(Actually, Seth Rogen’s involvement alone is a pretty big clue.)

I smuggled my bear Snuffles into the theatre with me.  As you may recall, Snuffles was a huge help to me and my family when cancer changed our lives forever 20 years ago.  And I valued his opinion of the movie’s success or failure in its quest to portray a cancer patient as he encounters the painful hurdles (and unexpected hilarities) on the road to wellness.

Snuffles posted his movie review below:

Shockingly, we are in agreement on all points.  That’s some bear.

(We’ll work on the lighting next time.)

Naked truth

Does a celebrity posing nude ever draw attention to anything…

besides the fact that they’re plum buck naked?

Adam Levine, front man for musical group Maroon-5, is the latest superstar to jump into the fray.  He appears in the latest issue of Cosmopolitan UK without a stitch on.  His pitch? 

Everyman, a campaign dedicated to raising awareness for testicular and prostate cancer. It funds the Everyman Centre in Surrey, Europe’s only male-centered cancer research center.

In deference to Cosmo’s readers,  that particular region of Levine’s body is artfully blocked in the shot by the hands of his girlfriend.  The rest is covered by tats.  Lots and lots of tats.

Are these photos a victory for cancer awareness?  I hope so.

Personally, I think the tattoo industry may get the biggest bang from Levine’s beefcake.

For Seve

I love golf.  Have since I was a kid.

Do I play?  No.  But I’m a huge fan.

I discovered golf via television.  We didn’t have cable back in the day, and on the weekends, coverage of major tourneys took over the networks…so I watched.  And I became enamored with the complexities and competition of the sport.

And, of course, the personalities.

Long before Tiger Woods dominated the world of golf, I was obsessed with a Spaniard by the name of Seve Ballesteros.  He burst onto the scene in the late 70’s, becoming the youngest player to win the Masters in 1980 at age 23.  (Tiger, of course, went on to break that record in 1997.)

Seve was everything my hometown of Fancy Farm, Kentucky (population: 400) was not.  He was exotic, good-looking, and world-traveled, and perhaps I assigned those same qualities to the sport of golf.

Seve went on to win five major championships over his career and was a great team player for the Internationals at the Ryder Cup.  He struggled in later years with back problems and retired in 2007.

In 2008, Seve was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor.  Following surgery and chemotherapy, he is now partially blind in his left eye.  During his recuperation, he founded the Seve Ballesteros Foundation to help others with cancer fight the disease.

His story has inspired so many people on and off the golf course.   And, as recently as Wednesday, he pledged to return to the 2010 British Open and play a round.

And people wonder why I love the game of golf.

Thigh high

I have always bemoaned my genetic background.  Not my family per se — they are phenomenal people — but their medical DNA kinda sucks.

Cancer on one side, heart disease on the other.  I have always pictured them as loaded guns, pointed at either side of my head.  Which one will get me first?

I’ve blamed some of my physical traumas, as my blog name suggests, on my position in the family as the youngest.  The last child is the oldest egg, and as we know, the only things that get better with age are wine and men.

But most of my physical maladies can be traced directly back to one of my parents.  For example, high cholesterol from my dad, migraines from my mother.  Bad eyesight — dad’s kin.  Poor circulation — mom.  I’m sure you can do the same.

But today I learned that I owe a big ol’ thank you to my dad for my ginormous thighs.

That’s right.

Up to now, I had blamed my dad’s side of the family for my way-out-of-proportion-with-the-rest-of-my-body thighs.  Over the years, I’ve thrown quite a bit of hate at my thighs.  Done everything I can to make my thighs smaller.

And then today, I read that a study published in last month’s British Medical Journal found that both men and women with small thighs had a greater risk of developing heart disease and dying prematurely.

So, while my dad may have given me high cholesterol, at least he balanced the odds with my protective, thunder thighs.

That’s love.