Ehum…so how are you? Me? I’m pretty crispy. Last chemo was the worst experience of my life. Shudder. But anyways instead of dwelling I wrote a special letter series for today and Friday. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
It’s me Nikhil Joshi. The one from Canada. The one with cancer. I hope I don’t have to be more specific than that but apparently there are tons of Nikhil Joshi’s in the world. Here I was thinking for the first 12 years of my life that no one ever had been named that. Turns out I was just spoilt by being in St. John’s. Thought I was so fucking original.
Anyways sorry Santa, but I went on a tangent. Uh, how do I do this? Um, how are you? You seem well. Well, actually you seem like you might have or be at risk for developing Diabetes given your abdominal obesity. Have you seen your doctor lately? Being diagnosed with Diabetes early could save your life, so yeah I’d probably recommend that. I mean sure your jolly countenance goes pretty far, but probably not enough to avoid heart disease- just saying.
Is this the part where we start to discuss what we want? Oh shit probably not, I probably should ask for things for other people. Uh, I have no idea what to get my family this year so maybe you could help me out with that? Mom and Dad are impossible to buy for and no matter what they’re going to be all like “I love it and you spent too much money”, and they will not love it immediately but will eventually keep whatever I buy and depend on it incredibly. I think the best thing I ever got them was Netflix. Now they devour hours upon hours of questionable American television. They’re on season 3 of the Arrow. Isn’t it just a shitty version of Smallville which was a shitty version of itself? So yeah maybe you could come up with a gift ideas for the family. That’d be great. And more than ideas could you actually get the gifts yourself? I mean I’ve got fucking cancer and am getting chemo- I can’t be in a crowded mall. And I don’t want to go to Stavanger drive because it will promote suicidal thoughts and homicidal actions.
Okay so this is the part where we discuss what we actually want? Okay the first thing I want is to not have cancer. So yeah chop chop on that. I’d take that as my only gift if you’re feeling like being particularly stingy. I already have a new IPhone I bought myself (no thanks to your ass). I’d like to have Joshi family Christmas reinstated if possible. You may or may not know this based on the stories of you seeing us whether we are naughty or nice (cough pedophile cough), but for 20 years we have been celebrating Joshi Family Christmas or JFC. That annual party we would have where Mom would slave away making a delicious meal for like 80 people for 5 days, Dad Anand and I would go to the liquor store and buy an immoral amount of alcohol, and then we’d have everyone over, eat and drink and carol, while Mr. V would play our out of tune piano brilliantly. Then all our friends would “sing for their supper” and their beautiful voices would carry out over the living room while I was wrapped in a warm sweater of bourbon. You know, just the right amount to feel all the Christmas love in your heart, and enough to make me think I can sing. ( I really can’t fucking sing either. I’ve been to Karokee like 3 times in the last few months, and once we butchered sweet home Alabama and the other two times we tried to sing run around Sue and I was just so fucking bad- you’d think you’d help me out with that one too?)
You would have thought we were white with how much we rep Christmas. I Love Christmas. I mean besides the whole thing where I’d usually have to work on Christmas. Then it was depressing. The hospital was full of patients with broken dreams and shattered lives- that were a ton of anti-Hallmark moments. But you know otherwise I totally loved it.
Thanks for your consideration and for that ping pong table when I was 6. It was baller.
P.S. The only really ‘naughty’ thing I’ve done all year was send Chris and Anand a picture of my crap post chemotherapy. And that’s because they were ragging on the fucking language of the fucking blog like the older (read: at times overbearing) brothers they are. But yeah, I mean sure it was truly disturbing, like Chernobyl in a toilet bowl so if you’re kind of pissed at that I’m totally sorry.