FU Does Not Have AIDS, Still Wants to be Called "Magic"

This post has been a long-time coming. I don't have AIDS. At least the results from my 2001 test told me so and I don't have any reason to doubt things have changed. Although, I did have a stage where I was really into experimenting with needle drugs, which ultimately led me to develop an insatiable appetite for Botswanan hookers. And while I don't recall ever having gay sex, there are some weeks I can't account for in 2003-3004 due to an incredibly potent score of China White. Sure, this may sound like a high-risk lifestyle, but it was the 2000s. Who wasn't high on smack and sleeping with anything with a pulse for an extra hit? If I have AIDS, then find me someone who doesn't.

Though I did have somewhat of a recent scare about a month ago. Here's a little background. My move from San Diego to Boston involved a 4000 mile road trip with my college roommate which touched off a two week onslaught of feverish drinking accompanied by little sleep and very unhealthy food. The result of two straight weeks of abusing my body in every way imaginable was that upon reaching Boston, I was hit almost immediately by a near-fatal case of the flu. For two days I was ensconced in sweatpants and a sleeping bag on my living room floor, too tired to even watch tv. The chills I experienced all day were accompanied by annoyingly regular night sweats for almost a week. I found myself searching for simple words like "toilet" and "remote" while in conversation, to no avail. There were moments where I welcomed death. But luckily my pedigree and robust physical fitness allowed me to ward off this disease within a week. Others would most likely still be suffering. Indeed, lesser mortals could have died.

But I perservered. And that weekend I was visited by my sister (mentioned in previous post). Somehow, while watching an NBA game on television, Magic Johnson's seemingly miraculous bout with HIV/AIDS came up in conversation. In order to satisfy our curiosity about his health picture, we turned to google where my sister stumbled upon a list of AIDS symptoms which she read off. The list included: fever, soaking night sweats, shaking chills, dry cough, and loss of memory. I felt a javelin go through my heart. I had AIDS. The next few days were a living hell for me as I came to grips with my certain demise; except for a very pleasant trip to Kennebunkport, Maine where I found my future retirement community (also mentioned in previous post).

Then, in an interesting turn of events, I realized that I wasn't sick anymore. In fact I hadn't been for several days. I had either beaten AIDS or I never had it. I wasn't sure which, but I wanted to share the good news with my readers with whom I had offhandedly mentioned I might have contracted the virus. But I had a serious hesitation. While coming to grips with my AIDS, I had also come to really like the nickname "Magic." I admired the nickname so much that I felt the name itself effectively counterbalanced, if not entirely outweighed the devestating stigma of the most damning disease of the 21st century. I was hoping I could leverage my potential AIDS virus to garner the nickname before revealing to the world that I did not actually have AIDS. Despite learning a rash of magic tricks and then performing them in front of my friends at every chance while also letting them know that I was 100% AIDS positive, I couldn't get anyone to call me "Magic."

And so I finally gave up. I don't have AIDS. But I am still unemployed...forever.

Happy Hump Day America