Guys, Julie and I have big news! We were going to announce it on Facebook, but the government recently took over my account and deleted all the photos.

So remember that pesky marble-sized red bump that formed on my back after a scorpion bit me during my hike outside Los Alamos? Well, Julie and I were at first a little freaked out by the swelling and glowing, but we decided it was best to be super positive. We certainly needed that positivity when the cyst continued growing, first to the size of a baseball, then to the size of beach ball. Eventually we were directed to a great team of scientists who did a bunch of tests and have concluded—get this!—that the cyst will soon be a sentient being!

At first we were, like, “Whaaaat?” But then we remembered that we’re thinking positively through this experience so now we are, like, “Yessssss!” And to keep that attitude going strong, we’re having a gender reveal par-tay, y’all!

Here’s how it’ll go down: In two weeks I’ll return to the government lab for another barrage of scans and incisional biopsies. At the end of this session, the scientists will do an ultrasound of my cyst, determine its sex (as best as they are able), write it on a slip of paper, and give it to my Aunt Sharon. She will then fill a piñata with either blue treats for a boy-cyst-abomination, or pink treats for a girl-cyst-abomination. I’m a little worried that I’m going to cry in front of everyone during the reveal! (I’ve been crying a lot. The pain is indescribable.)

Besides breaking the piñata, we’ll also have other activities at the party, including:

Rub the Lump: See how long you can rub the veiny pulsing mass of expanding flesh on my back without dry heaving! It’s harder than it sounds. Not the cyst itself—that is very soft and warm, or at least it was before the bones started forming inside it.

Find the Silver Lining: A handsome vintage chalkboard will be situated at the center of the party. On it everyone has to write a positive takeaway about this experience. Julie and I were trying to do this last night, and it’s really hard! We’re excited to see what you come up with!

Pray for Thomas: We’re all going to gather around in a circle and pray to every major deity that I make it through this experience unharmed. This one isn’t really a game, but we hope all will participate.

There will be Mason jars for you to contribute name suggestions. There will also be a Mason jar for donations to help pay for the mounting expenses. Every little bit helps; I’ve been out of work ever since the cyst became so big I could no longer put shirts over my torso.

We hope you’ll mark your calendars and make plans to come. I’m going to be super busy in the following weeks. After the party is finished, government agents will strap me down on a plus-sized gurney and transport me back to the underground lab, where a team of surgeons will attempt to detach the cyst from my body. Julie and I were hoping to do the operation at our house in a bathtub with a midwife present, to make it a little more natural, but there just won’t be enough room. Plus there’s the risk that I’ll bleed to death or be otherwise unable to survive after they remove the cyst. On the bright side, we’re told that the President is being briefed daily on my developments, and during the surgery many high-ranking government officials will be monitoring it via live feed. How freaking cool is that, guys?

Please RSVP by the end of the week. Julie and I are looking forward to seeing you at the party. The cyst is looking forward to seeing you at the party, too. (Oh, yeah—I forgot to mention that in the past two weeks I’ve become telepathically bound to it. Or, I should say, him. Or her! Or us! For the love of god, please help me!)