I Think I Just Lost A Kidney

August 18, 2010

I moved from New Orleans to Texas March 1st.

The last week of February, as I was packing up my stuff, I got a message from a friend of mine from Ohio whom I hadn’t talked to in a while. It was sent via facebook to me and to a girl named Beth. Basically, it said:

KevFu, meet Beth.
Beth, meet KevFu.
Both of you are living in New Orleans as non-natives. I’m connecting you because fellow New Yorkers should have northern drinking buddies from time-to-time.
(A bit about the other one, and why she thought we’d be friends)

Since I was moving in three days, and being a smartass, I replied:

If you said something earlier, maybe Beth and I would be BFFs by now… inseparable pals with such a deep connection we are able to dominate at parlor games like Catch Phrase. Buddies so close we finish each others’ sentences. Or spend quality time riding one of those two-person bikes through Audubon Park wearing matching sweaters. We might even be such a perfect match we could donate organs to one another, and if she was on life support and needed one I’d gladly give up one of my kidneys or livers for my new bestest.

Congratulations, Jeanne. Your six months of silence just killed Beth.

We traded a couple messages, laughing over my response and the absurdity of two-person bikes. But we never met each other before I left town.

So tonight (after the Mets game in Houston), I get a message from Jeanne:

Remember when I sent you a note about my friend being in town [recap of what I said about the kidney]?
WELL, while she’s alive and not in need of a kidney, she DID just find out she only has ONE!!! How freaking crazy is that?! If it goes, I’m calling you, dude. You’re getting tested to give her one of yours. :)

I almost feel responsible. Well, not responsible because obviously it isn’t “my fault.” She isn’t a kidney short because I made the comment. She found out a second one just isn’t there and never was (how did this not come up when she was, like, in the womb? Isn’t that what sonograms are for?). But it’s not like the kidney was there a year ago and disappeared after my comment.

I have to feel that this is just way too freaky of a coincidence for me to make that comment and now have this come up. I mean, the odds of me making a comment and her actually needing a kidney are extremely long.

My friend tried to introduce us for a reason. The timing was off then (although, if we were drinking buddies in New Orleans, we might not have two working kidney’s between us!). I made a joke about how important this introduction might be; using her kidneys as an example. And the timing of the new development coincides with me moving again (oh yeah, I’m California bound. Check the Facebook for details), and getting health insurance again.

So, based on some kind of crazy karma/subconscious/psychic thing between the comment, the situation, and the timing, I pretty much have to put my money where my smart ass mouth is, right?

If she needs one, I’m going to have to be first in line to see if I’m a match. How could I live with myself if I didn’t?

I pretty much need to assume that someday, I can post a video here from some news site that did a feature on Beth and I, each with one of my working kidneys, riding a tandem bicycle in Audobon Park. (Why did I have to mention matching sweaters?).

Hopefully (for her sake more than mine), that never happen. But if you think I’m a great guy because I would go through with that, just remember what a cocky jerk I am. If that happens, I’m going to be a million times worse: “Oh, I don’t think I’m awesome because I saved someone’s life; Anyone would do that. I’m ridiculously awesome because I accurately identified that she needed my kidney, before any doctor, without performing any kinds of tests or even meeting her.”

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Improving Friendships a Gas Tank at a Time

November 11, 2009

When you have really close friends, you know them extremely well. When I moved down to New Orleans, I knew that one of my close friends and I were both the kind of people who would do a horrible job of keeping in touch with each other. I predicted it would happen and we both promised to try and prevent falling out of touch.

And of course, we were prophets and definitely don’t talk enough anymore.

The main problem is that we can easily talk about things, but there’s nothing to instigate a phone call besides “I haven’t talked to her in a while” and usually then, I think of it while I’m busy, or it’s ridiculously late at night. The thought of “Oh, I should share this…” doesn’t really enter into play.

Then a couple weeks ago, I had an idea. I was pulling in to put gas in my car and the car in front of me had a sticker from my friend’s alma mater. So I gave her a call.

It occurred to me that I don’t really DO anything while filling up my tank. I’m not in the middle of something when I’m getting gas, and normally, I fill up prior to, or after work. Not to mention that our busiest times are when we’re traveling, and when we’re on the road for work, we don’t have our personal cars.

Plus, the 15 minutes from the gas station next to work to home, or the gas station next to home to work means I can say “Ok, I’m home now” if I DO have plans. It’s really the perfect place where a phone call for the sake of a phone call fits into my day. And it will also distract us from other idiot drivers and quell our respective road rage.

I fill up my gas tank every two weeks or so, which is about the frequency we can talk and actually have something to say. If you talk too frequently, it’s “nothing’s new.” Two weeks is enough time for something of significant to happen, or at least discuss the most significant thing. We’ll even have an easily safety net for conversation if we can’t think of anything new to talk about: high gas prices.

I proposed this idea to my friend and she instantly thought it was brilliant, because it is.

I even have the built in excuse for calling her less frequently than she calls me: I have a sensible, Japanese sedan, and she has a gas-guzzling American SUV.

I would encourage any of you to steal this idea with your out of town friends. You’ll have better friendships and also look like a genius when you propose it.


California…Knows How to Party

January 17, 2009

New York on the other hand, got stuck being the DD. You know California (aka Sunshine). New York was me.

Miss Daisy and her chauffer

Miss Daisy and her chauffer

Now, for a number of reasons, I was more than happy to do it. I offered my services well in advance, and I think it was a very wise, responsible and good thing that I did it. I should have done it. I was wise to do it. I’m glad I could help in some small way facilitate good times. However, I will point out that being the DD sucks. Royally.

In hindsight, I’m sorry I ever started to drink ever. When I was in college, I didn’t drink at all (save a couple moments where delicious whiskey was used as flavor in coffee, or on one occasion to prove a point to two sissified roommates). And I had a lot more fun than I have now.

Really. I’ve had some good times boozing it up, but I really had a fantastic time because… well, I was (am) a bit of an attention whore and class clown. So to me, nothing was funnier than being crazy/stupid and having people laugh at me for doing crazy random shizzle while sober. It was awesome. I can’t tell you how many times I had to convince people that when they met me at some party, I wasn’t drunk. (“But you were standing on the back of your couch doing the Humpty Dance with a pair of boxer shorts on your head.”)

Now, it seems so forced to try and be the fun-loving sober guy. I am the fun-loving guy when I’m sober. But it just seems like I’m trying too hard.

Then again, I probably try harder and stupider if I’ve been drinking. But at least I don’t think about it.

I'd say a great time

I'd say a great time

Anyhow, I DID have a good time, those around me had a good time (ok, great time) and I’ll have to post some pictures of California LeMastey getting down on her birthday. (And I was probably just pissy because beer gives me a headache and I had one. So don’t feel guilty if you read this, CLM; you had a great time, and I’m glad you did. HVN also is really glad that I drove. And my career. The half dozen random guys who were trying to take advantage of you probably aren’t, but they were douchebags anyway).