The Outlier

I've mentioned before that I have not -  nor will I EVER - google the type of cancer I have and read about the survival rates. Much as I love google, I know all that I need to know already, thank you very much.

Statistics mean nothing to a Mother Fucking Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior like me. (My father, who has a PhD in statistical measurement is probably developing his own seizure disorder after reading that. And not because of the cursing. He has a bit of potty mouth, too, when he gets really riled up about something. You know what they say: "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!")

But seriously, the outcome that we're hoping for is what we call an "outlier" in statistics. An outlier is data that is outside the statistical norm. In the world of testing, if they see data that is way outside the average, they suspect you of cheating. In the world of the lottery, if you get an outcome that is way outside the statistical average, they call you a lucky bastard. And if you get struck by lightning, it means the opposite - you are one unlucky bastard.

Okay, I just googled that shit...

[Side note: Don't you love google? Steven and I were just talking about that on our walk yesterday. You see, kiddies, in the world before google, when you were curious about something, you couldn't look it up right away! And sometimes, you could never find the answer! Imagine that world...all those of you that were born after 1998, when google was started. (yes, I just googled that. DUH!) The rest of us don't have to imagine it, because we LIVED it. While we were walking uphill to school, both ways. Oh, the horror! the horror!]

Anyway, I looked up the statistics on getting struck by lightning and it's actually a little bit deceiving. Your chances of getting hit by lightning in any given year are 1:1,900,000. But in your lifetime, it's 1: 12,000. Improbable, but not as unlikely as we might think.  They don't specify if these guys are walking around a golf course with a gigantic umbrella while wearing chain mail.
(strangely enough, there are no legit image results when I googled "chain mail and golfing". Bummer. I was thinking that a good visual inserted right here would be just the thing. Google, you disappoint me.)

But  then I found THIS:

Which is actually better. I take back everything I said about you, Google. <smooches!>

But let's just say, without using actual statistics, that my odds are not as good as avoiding lightning. It doesn't matter!

Because, you see, I'm looking to be the OUTLIER. The statistical anomaly that makes statisticians twitch.

In fact, I'm thinking of getting my name legally changed to June Ellen "Outlier" Fremer Mirassou.

Well, that's just ridiculous, isn't it?

So, let's get rid of the Ellen, shall we? I'm not sure where the Ellen came from anyway (Sorry, Mom!), but it's far too vanilla for me.

Okay, so my new name is: June "Outlier" Fremer Mirassou. Oh, and let's not forget my suffix: Mother Fucking Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior. But I'll just use the initials, because that gets rather unwieldy.

Done.

June "Outlier" Fremer Mirassou, MFBCFNW, at your service!