pre-surgery requests

hey world. I was informed by my doctor that the procedure that I will undergo is 99.9% risk-free. As an actuary, it is normal for me to point out the "black swan effect" inherent in that: 99.9% means there is a 0.1% risk of infection. (dun dun dunnn)

According to the RP-2000 by the Society of Actuaries, there is a 0.000366 chance that I will survive this year, which is a much lower probability than what my doctor gave me (as what I would presume is a rounded number given to appease insurance-covered foreign students who are better off chewing on traditional medicine, i.e, shredded lizards tail rubbed on the extremities of the left ankle)

in short, this surgery raises my mortality risk considerably.

gasp.

With that in mind, let me speak my mind one more time, before my ankle has to be iced and elevated above heart level over a few days.

1.) The man who is guilty of groping Minnie Mouse should be sentenced to 100 days of service, but not just any kind of service. He is to:
(A) Pay off his debts to society by buying Wimpy a hamburger everyday, which Wimpy will not need to pay back on Tuesdays.
(B) Become Fred Flintstone's personal chef (bronto burgers everyday. good luck on that), AND
(C) In a reality show type performance measure, he will have to devise a 100-day fitness/diet regimen to bulk up Olive Oyl. For goodness' sake she needs to eat things beyond Popeye's leftover Spinach.

2.) My dad should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for raising me and my family. Now I know what he has had to go through the past 24 years. Nothing easy - he is a real-world martyr.

3.) I have always wanted to be in the frontpage of a tabloid for something completely outrageous and ridiculously untrue. Like: "Chua smuggles bucket of extra crispy chicken in his underwear: is he evading taxes???" Something like that.

4.) If I were President, I would unite the world under one currency: coconuts. Then the Philippines would be one of the world's greatest economies (Sorry, Antartica; in the meantime, you're welcome, homeland).

and finally

5.) What happens to all the graphic tees in my closet once I sign up for a full-time job? It's not like I can wear a shirt with a monkey on it on a Saturday afternoon, and of course not at church. And what about those jeans? WHAT NOW? That's why children are so expensive to raise: they change sizes considerably, and they buy stuff that they HAVE to HAVE, and that they eventually have ZERO use for (BAH forget about sentimentality, everybody knows that you have a chest of memories gathering dust and mites in the attic. Everybody has one. The concept of a chest is a memoir by itself.)

That's why all I keep is my birth certificate. I wanna keep my life simple: the next important piece of personal document, I will not live to see.

These are the kinds of things that go into my head before I go to sleep.

Ah, 12:03am. The pre-surgery fast has begun.