blamedrewscancer

Whuffaoke or Bust

July 27, 2009 by krisis

I don’t have it in me to articulate today’s adventures quite yet, but:

Whuffaoke is a country-spanning karaoke tour based out of one amazing winnebago. They are also some of the sweetest people I have ever met. Over the course of seven hours I sang “Video Killed the Radio Star,” “Since U Been Gone,” “Semi-Charmed Life,” “Time Is Running Out,” “Don’t You Want Me,” and – amazingly, as I’ve never performed it before – “Here We Go Again” by Whitesnake.

In addition to not having it in me to articulate, I think I may have also lost the power of speech.

Whuffaoke continues on Monday at 13th and Sansom at 5pm sharp. Be there.

Why I #blamedrewscancer, pt. 2

July 24, 2009 by krisis

(Read Part 1)

It is Saturday, at 2:30 in the afternoon. After a brief flight, our plane has reached its apex.

Now it is time to dive out of it.

The friendly chatter of the BlameDrewsCancer team falls away as the tiny cabin bustles with activity. Each of our tandem partners checks to make sure we’re completely winched together.

Then, before I realize it is happening, the plexiglass door over the hatch is slid entirely open, and Chris and his partner are duckwalking to the very edge of the floor. They tip out, into the blue, quickly disappearing from sight.

Drew is sitting next to me. I look him in the eyes, but I don’t think it registers. He will be the next to jump.

I find that, unexpectedly, I am completely calm.

On Monday, June 29, I met Britt outside of our office, and we took off for New Jersey to meet with Drew.

I had read up on the BlameDrewsCancer phenomenon, but I couldn’t say I completely understood the point of it. All I knew was that Britt was in charge of this mysterious Blame-a-Thon event, and that I had volunteered to take notes for her so she could stay focused on her dialog with Drew.

Otherwise, I was in the dark. Blame Drew’s Cancer was just a meme to me. I had never even sent an @-reply to Drew.

We converged on Applebees for our meeting. Me being me, I had never been inside of one before, and wasn’t entirely sure what sort of food they sold. I advertised the fact to Drew, a stocky, tattooed, slightly-imposing man in a baseball jersey.

Great, I thought. Way to endear yourself to the intimidating guy with cancer by advertising your never-ending weirdness.

Thirty minutes later the five of us – Drew, his friends Chris and Mikey, and Britt and I – were seated and eating. The following exchange kicked-off our meeting:

Britt: I brought charts!

Drew: I brought cancer!

This, I learned quickly, was par for the course with Drew – and a running theme of BlameDrewsCancer. Drew was sick of cancer being an unspoken “c-word.” He talked about his cancer loudly and without reservation, and welcomed questions.

Drew was fresh from chemotherapy, and Britt quizzed him on the details over salad. Yes, he had a permanent port in his body for the chemo, so the drugs wouldn’t burn his skin. No, it wasn’t too uncomfortable, but he wasn’t allowed to get any more tattoos while he was in treatment.

As we got into the thick of the meeting I took furious notes on the scope of the event. It would be huge. 24 hours of party, half of it at Philly’s venerable North Star Bar. We would need to coordinate live video streaming of the entire event. The band Stroke 9 was reportedly working on a Blame Drew’s Cancer theme song. Drew was now an official partner of LiveStrong, in a story set to break later that week on outlets like AOL and CNN – until then the news was embargoed.

In Drew’s words, we should “Think big.” When Mikey jokingly fired back, “Big like Tom Hanks,” Drew responded, “Sure, if you think you can get in touch with him.”

It was at that moment that I began to understand what Drew – and, by extension, BlameDrewsCancer – was actually about. It was about a no-holds-barred rebranding of cancer as something you could talk about, get support for, and live through. Really live.

Drew was only intimidating in that he had ideas with no boundaries, and he was looking for people to help realize them. By the time we headed back to our cars, I knew that I wanted to be one of those people; I had to be involved with Blame-a-Thon in a capacity more meaningful than just taking notes.

I did not suspect that “involved” would involve jumping out of a plane.

Why I Blame Drew’s Cancer, pt. 1

July 22, 2009 by krisis

It is just shy of 2:30 in the afternoon on Saturday, and I am sitting on the floor of an airplane small enough that – sans wings – could fit into my living room. There is a parachute-bearing man named Rob strapped to my back.

Around me sit four other twenty-somethings, each with a parachute-equipped man affixed to their person. Together, we watch through the open hatch on the side of the plane as first the airport slips away, then trees, then clouds.

Suddenly, we are in unmitigated blue.

I’ve known these people for less than three weeks, but in just a few minutes I’ll be jumping out of a plane with them to Blame Drew’s Cancer.

I momentarily debate my sanity.

This story starts in my cubicle at work, of all places.

I had just exited a meeting about social media with Britt, a colleague, but not a direct co-worker. Back in my cube, we had a rapid-fire conversation.

“So,” Britt interrogated, “You blog, but you aren’t on Twitter?”

“I grabbed my username, but I’m not using it for anything.”

“I think you would like it.”

“But it’s just a never-ending Facebook status.”

“Try it. Try it for a week.”

“Britt, I don’t do anything halfway. If I try Twitter I’m going to insist on being the best at Twitter. That’s how I am.”

“Good.” She left me with a wink. “Try it.”

I’ve already unfolded the story of my Twitter addiction, as well as my visit to a meeting of the Social Media Club of Philadelphia. However, neither could prepare me for my next plunge.

It started innocently enough – I received via a Twitter acquaintance an invite to an event charmingly titled “Blame-a-Thon.” 24-hours of live blaming and live music on 9/9/9, all for charity? I didn’t really understand what it was about, but I love charity events, and I love live music.

I shot off a quick message to the organizer to see if he needed any help connecting with bands, and I got a prompt reply – that I should connect with the director of the event: Britt at BlameDrewsCancer.

Britt? Like, my work Britt? The same Britt?

Yes, yes, and yes.

Another rapid-fire conversation with Britt ensued. (As it turns out, all of our conversations are rapid-fire). The Blame-a-Thon was being thrown by BlameDrewsCancer. Had I seen that hash tag on Twitter? I had, but hadn’t completely understood it … dozens of people blaming things, both serious and ironic, on someone’s cancer? Seemed a little cheeky.

Britt said I ought to read up on BlameDrewsCancer, and invited me to tag along to her first meeting with the eponymous Drew to discuss the event.

I read up. Drew is a true digital native – a plugged-in, gagdet-wielding dude who hosted The Best Damn Tech Show. Period, blogs, twitters, and works at a tech startup. Just a month prior, his doctor diagnosed him with Stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

A lot of people would go to a negative, frightened place with this news – especially in the first month of their diagnosis. Not Drew. Drew decided that in order to beat cancer, he had to beat up on cancer. He had to make it the bad guy, the loser, the asshole. In his own words:

I’ve been blaming my cancer for everything. Lost keys, wallet, Phillies losing. Sixers picking a bad coach. Twitter going down and/or being slow.

Surely cancer can’t withstand that type of beatdown. But why do it alone? I wanted to welcome ANYONE to blame ANYTHING on MY cancer. … I have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me

Less than 60 days later, close to 10,000 unique Twitter users had blamed something on Drew’s Cancer. That evening, I watched the number creep up on BlameDrewsCancer.com.

I was amazed by Drew’s story, and intrigued to hear about his upcoming Blame-a-Thon. I called Britt back and told her I was in for the meeting.

Little did I know what I was truly “in” for.