First of all, my heart seems to be okay, but not quite right. Everything seems okay, but there’s still a little mysterious something, they just don’t know what yet. I mean, no one else seems alarmed, so I am not alarmed. But yet, they want to do you know, a few more tests.

The latest in cardiac-testing included a portable EKG system strapped to my person for the last 24 hours, just to record what a ‘normal’ day of heart activity for me is like, see if bad things are happening.

I know. You can forget bionic, as of ten o’clock yesterday morning I looked like I was strapped with a straight-up BOMB.

For real, all day I had been walking around with white wires from the electrodes sticking out everywhere – kinda like I was hiding about 32 iPods under my t-shirt. And if that wasn’t explosive-terrorist-on-the-loose-looking enough, all of those wires are attached to a big-ass digital clock. That I was supposed to … wait for it… wear around my neck.

Insert appropriate Flava Flav joke here!

Did I mention besides the cumbersome aspect of toting all of this hardware around, there’s the fact I felt like I was being, like, watched? Sure, I can look all cool and collected on the outside, but physiology doesn’t lie my friends, so when the read-out shows a big-ass spike in heart rate, what must they think?

Like, all day, when I wasn’t busy making airport security jokes, I’d been doing like, spontaneous jumping jacks and other things, just to give the doctors something fun to look at when the results come out. And all day, after every move I’d made I’d wonder: what does a sprint up the stairs look like? What kind of record does a sneeze leave?

But you know what’s really funny? It just so happened while wearing this thing and talking on the phone late last night, I had to sort of break things off with the really great guy I’ve been seeing. I didn’t want to, because he is really great and I like him a lot, but it’s just one of those things that you know just won’t work out, so you gotta let it go no matter how much it really sucks, ya know?

And yeah, it sucked.

And I was sad. Still am.

And not to be overly dramatic or anything, but after I got off the phone with him, still strapped into this cardio-monitoring device, it occurred to me: holy shit, I’ve got an actual record of my metaphorical heart break.

Isn’t that fucking hilarious?