HOPE I CAN FIND A BAG TO MATCH

Well, it isn’t dorsal bunions; it’s bone spurs.  On both feet.  I WILL need surgery, but I’m OK with that; anything to keep me from walking like Jabba the Hut during a Lower GI is fine with me.  The left big toe isn’t nearly as bad as the right, but the fact that the range of motion on it is about 15% is what prompted him to say it needed to be done also.  My right foot has about 2% range of motion, meaning when your big toe starts to bend when you stand on your tippy-toes, mine stops at about the time my heel almost comes off the ground.  It also explains the wear pattern on my shoes.  The Doctor looked at them with a “Dear Lord” expression on his face and told me to bring in my newest pair of shoes so he can give me inserts to help until the surgery.  The wear pattern starts about 1/3 of the way down from my toes, stays on the outside of the shoe and the heels are almost worn through.  I’m basically walking like a barefoot little kid on hot asphalt, on the sides of my feet.  The surgery on my left knee is also why my right toe is so much worse (this is my thinking, not the Doc’s), I can’t shift my weight to my left foot because I can’t straighten my knee all the way, so I constantly stand with my weight on my right foot.  What a mess I am!

I talked him into doing both feet at the same time.  I don’t know how wise of a decision that was, but it made sense at the time.  Given my history with anesthesia, I’d rather knock it out all at once than have to go under twice.  Economically it should keep the cost down as well, so I think it’s the right thing to do.  I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to drive with 2 surgical boots on my feet for 2 to 4 weeks, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.  Possibly on crutches or in a wheel chair with me pulling groceries and 3 NukeKids behind me in Radio Flyer wagons.  I know that it is going to be a pain for a while, but I’m anxious to get it over with and be able to move like a normal human again.  For over 17 years I’ve been asking my feet, knees and hips to work in ways they weren’t intended to and it’s catching up to me.  I’ve put undue stress on my knees and hips from over compensating for my feet and it’s making all of them suffer.  Take care of your feet while you’re young.  Whoa, I’m starting to sound like Lt. Dan.  I can’t say I’m looking forward to hobbling around in surgical boots, but I’ve been walking like a gimp for so long that it can’t help but be an improvement.

THIS IS 2 DAYS WORTH OF POLLEN

I have asthma and allergies.  Since I possessed both, I figured I would do the smart thing and move to the worst state in the nation for allergies; North Carolina.  I think there is a 2 week window in the month of January where allergy sufferers get a reprieve from the onslaught, that’s it.  For the other 11 1/2 months of the year, you pray that your pills are working and that you can remember where you put your rescue inhaler.  The pollen count scale goes to 100.  Yesterday, the tree pollen count in my county was 149.  On Tuesday, it was 153-the highest they had ever recorded.  Walking out in that as an asthmatic would be like someone with a peanut allergy eating a 32oz jar of Peter Pan Chunky Peanut Butter.  On top of that, I finished my allergy shots back in January.  I had been getting allergy shots once a week for the last 7 years.  They weaned me off of them like a heroin addict with methadone.  The funny thing is, though; that I hadn’t even noticed the pollen.  Well, except for the 13 metric tons that I’ve brushed off of the car this week.

ONE DAY AFTER BEING WIPED CLEAN

Since I was doing so well with the pollen, I thought I’d live on the wild side and tackle a project that required contact cement, stain and varnish; 3 things that aren’t exactly friendly to your lungs.  AND, I would do it all without a respirator, I’d only use one of those little white surgical masks.  DANGER SEEKER!  Well, some might say idiot, I don’t know, but the point is; I’ve been completely unscathed by this pollen storm.  I took a couple of pictures of our van and our patio table to give you an idea of the dusting we’ve received.  I have to admit, I’m feeling a little cocky-I’m thinking of lighting some leaves on fire just to see how far I can take this.  Of course, now that I’ve written this, karma will bite me in the butt and send pollen spores the size of those things in The Langoliers to teach me a lesson.  Until then, I’m going to enjoy my first pain free allergy season in a decade.  Now, where’s my rescue inhaler?

SNUFF IT, SUBJECT!

North Carolina rang in the New Year with legislation enacted on January 4th that banned smoking in all bars and restaurants.  Snidely DoGooder, economist and Job Destruction Czar for the state of North Carolina summed it up this way;

“For too long the evil tobacco companies provided our country with over 15 Billion dollars and our state with over 171 Million dollars a year in tax revenue.  We felt that it was unfair for smokers to be the only ones carrying such a large tax burden, so the only logical conclusion was to tax the tobacco industry out of business.  We are well aware of the fact that people can still smoke in their homes, but if we can get the help we need from Washington to tax the air, then we’ll be well on our way to abolishing that right as well.  Cap and Trade legislation should help us in this endeavor as it taxes carbon dioxide, or, the air that people exhale; we’re hoping to tax the air that they inhale as well.  This will be more fair as not everyone smokes, but everyone breathes.”

Why not allow bar and restaurant owners to wall off areas for their smoking customers?  “We thought about that, but the fact is; if we allowed these owners to remodel their own private property to allow smoking, that could create thousands of jobs in the construction and the air filtration industries.  We simply weren’t prepared for that” Mr. DoGooder said.  “Besides” he continued, “what will they expect next?  Freedom to choose what foods to serve?  The ability to serve alcohol AND food at the same time?  Who do those people think they are?”

Mr. DoGooder’s work has been well documented.  Between 2001-2007 Mr. DoGooder and his team were able to destroy almost 80,000 jobs in textile mills and furniture plants alone.  “It just got out of hand,” Mr. DoGooder stated; “There were workers coming home from a shift with achy hands from running the sewing machines, workers who were bringing home samples given to them by their employers, we even had over 1,000 cases of chair caners coming home with splinters!  That’s just unacceptable.  It got so bad that some of the workers were actually coming home with enough money to go out and purchase cigarettes; we couldn’t have that.”  Mr. DoGooder went on to say; “It’s the old parable your Mom used to use at the dinner table; ‘Eat your food, there are starving children in China!’, this is our way of giving back; our Mom’s couldn’t feed those kids in China, so it’s up to us to send those jobs to China.  It’s all about their kids.”  When asked what about our kids here in North Carolina, Mr. DoGooder responded; “Oh, we have welfare for that; our kids will be fine.”

When asked how he felt about the agricultural renewal happening in North Carolina, with many former tobacco farmers now growing wine grapes, he chose his words carefully; “While our banking industry suffered due to a decline in farm machinery repossessions and farm foreclosures, we don’t feel that the NC vineyard industry is large enough yet to be an issue.  Once they employ over 10,000 people, then we’ll look at eliminating those jobs.”

What about the issue of drugs in our schools?  “Although we don’t have the capability yet to produce a  How-To guide for injecting heroin like our friends in New York, we are working on it.  They’ve promised to share some of their information with us, but we’re still lacking the information for the 3rd and 4th graders because their veins are so small.  We’re hoping health care reform will allow us to take over some of the big pharmaceutical companies so that we can manufacture the smaller syringes ourselves.  Once we make enough of them, we’ll be able to hand them out at no charge.”

THIS..IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

I’ve got issues with NukeMom.  It’s nothing major, just a little food faux pas that drives me crazy.  She’s an Ice Cream Candlewicker.  Don’t Google that, I just made it up.  What exactly is an Ice Cream Candlewicker you ask?  She’s one of those people that will only dig half way through the 1/2 gallon carton when dishing ice cream.  Once she hits the half way point, she’ll flip the carton over and start digging from the other end.  Think The China Syndrome, but with frozen dairy treats.  Now, when it comes to ice cream cartons, I’m a backhoe kind of guy; you dig till you hit bottom and you’re done.  I don’t mind the sticky, gelatinous, gummy remnants on my knuckles when I reach the bottom ‘cuz I’m going to lick it off anyway.  It’s no different than making a cake and licking the bowl.  And the spatula.  And the spoons used during mixing.  And those few drops that fell on the countertop.  And the oven rack.  Of course, you need to make sure the oven has cooled down first.  It only took me one experience to learn that.  I also learned that gauze and athletic tape will not stick to the human tongue for more than 45 seconds, tops.  It hasn’t been an issue of late because she and the kids like chocolate, and I like chocolate chip.  Well, that is, until a couple of weeks ago when she convinced NukeBoy2 and NukeGirl that they reeeally would like the chocolate chip if they would just ask Daddy for a bite.  Daddy?  Daddy?  Her ploy worked; now 2 of us like chocolate and 3 of us like chocolate chip; which brings me to the reason for this post.  Now that I’m having to share the chocolate chip, it’s shelf life is noticeably shorter.  I went for a bowl tonight and it wasn’t there.  I retaliated by reaching for the chocolate.  Mumbling something under my breath about proper family dessert hierarchy, I jammed the scoop in the middle of the chocolate ice cream and experienced what the people in the video below experience for the first 4 seconds.

Now, I know I said I don’t mind licking my knuckles every now and then, but what I do mind is going forearm deep into the carton when I’m least expecting it.  I’m also not crazy about digging dried chocolate ice cream out of my arm hair for the next 4 hours.  A shower, you say? Sure, but I have forearm hair like Robin Williams;  it isn’t easy.  When the NukeBeagles come inside and want to get warm, they lay on my forearms.  I lost my keys once.  For 2 days.  I found them in my arm hair.  Just sayin’.    We tried the other way, where you open up the whole side of the carton, and while it was easier to dish, storing it was a pain; it didn’t fit on the door the right way.  I know, I know; call the wahmbulance, poor NukeDad.  All I’m saying is; if you’re going to convince the kids to eat my ice cream and insist on scooping from both ends of the carton, then be prepared to dig a few arm hairs out of your bowl.  Love, your hairy hubby.

SARAH "WEASEL" MOMMA IN EXILE-MEXICO 1985

Leading the resistance was never easy for Sarah “Weasel” Momma.  She didn’t choose to lead the last few remnants of humanity through the vast wastelands of a post apocabrewtic world; but when the cans and bottles of BudNet became self-aware at 2:14am on August 29th, 1997, her fate was sealed.  AnheuserDyne Systems had developed BudNet for the United States Grocery Forces to ensure the freedom of all cases of beer throughout the land.  Lagers, Ales, Bocks and Stouts; the market was supposed to be free to all, but it didn’t turn out that way.  The mighty overwhelmed the weak, laying waste to competitors far and wide; the dark, looming presence of BudNet always just over the horizon.  Soon small pockets of resistance began to surface in the suburbs; taking victory in small bites–a neighborhood bar promotion here, a Greek Orthodox Church festival there–longing for the day that they could mount a large scale campaign to unseat the mighty BudNet and its ill-gotten market share.  Weasel Momma and her band of Silver Bullet rebels led the insurgency valiantly, taking the fight to convenience stores and Mom and Pop grocery stores throughout the Tri-State area; but in the end, the Evil Axis of Sam’s Club, ESPNZone and Applebees proved to be too much.  Led by the evil Brewmaster Dr. Doofenshmirtz, the Axis was able to secure prime shelf space and numerous end-cap displays for BudNet products nationwide.  With Jimmy Football commercials airing during NFL games, Microbreweries disappeared  one by one as the war progressed: Shiner, Fat Tire, Blue Moon, Lone Star, Samuel Adams; like dominoes they fell.  The BudNet Cyborg Girls patrolled the bars terminating any non-conformists.  In the end, it was up to the new coalition of Miller and Coors to mount one last push to try and defeat BudNet and its Axis of Evil.

THE BUDNET CYBORG GIRLS

Sarah “Weasel” Momma was born into a military family, so giving orders and preparing bad meals came naturally to her.  The day the T-1000′s came on the scene was the day Weasel Momma knew she had to join the fight.  She was at a kegger on the Jersey Shore when a just tapped keg of Coors Light morphed into Robert Patrick in a police uniform, who flashed a photograph of Bob Seger and asked; “Have you seen this boy?”  Weasel Momma cried bitter tears that day; tears for the 15 and 1/2 gallons of Coors Light that lie sinking into the sand.  She swore revenge and hopped into her AMC Pacer and headed for Detroit; home of Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band of Brothers.  She had no way of knowing at the time, but Bob Seger was actually the father of her unborn son; Jimmy the Weasel, who had tried to send Bob Seger back from the future to the year 1984.  Jimmy’s plan was to protect his mother from the 800 series of Terminator that had already been sent back to kill her, thereby erasing him from existence.  He couldn’t very well lead the resistance if he was never born now, could he?  In what can only be described as a Doc Brown McFlyism, Bob Seger missed his target of Philly in 1984, and ended up in Detroit in 1964.  He quickly established a deep cover alias as a multi-platinum recording artist, dominating the charts from the mid 70′s to the late 80′s.  Check his Wikipedia page, I’m not lying.  Weasel Momma caught up to Bob Seger’s tour bus in Sandusky, Ohio and told him of the morphing beer keg/policeman.  Bob sat her down and gently told her of his journey from the future, about the bleakness of living in a world dominated by Bud products, no pork rinds and the occasional Schlitz Malt Liquor 40 oz.  He explained how he’d had to hide out for 20 long years waiting to finally meet up with her, how he’d had to “Get Out of Denver”, felt like he was always running “Against The Wind” and how (if he ever got out of here) he was going to “Katmandu”.  That’s really, really where he’s going to, and that unless she was a “Beautiful Loser”, she’d follow him back to the tour bus, that was parked on “Mainstreet” but could she wait just a minute because there’s a bathroom right there and he had “The Fire Down Below.” Bob Seger and Weasel Momma traveled the world together; both reluctant soldiers in the Beer Wars.  Bob taught Weasel Momma how to fold and properly display overpriced concert t-shirts, she showed him how to play beer pong and how to properly skin and field dress an 18 pack.  Together they worked on strategy and logistics for the coming conflict.

TILL IT SHINES, SUNSPOT BABY, TILL IT SHINES!

During their travels, Bob Seger would write songs on the tour bus as they drove from show to show.  One song in particular would give Weasel Momma the urge to slide across the bus in nothing but socks, her underwear and an oversized oxford shirt.  It also made her want to play Xbox 360.  It was on just such on occasion that Bob Seger told Weasel Momma; “We’ve Got Tonight”, and that was the day that little Jimmy the Weasel was conceived.  Shortly thereafter, Bob Seger suffered a debilitating scapula injury when the tour bus was forced off the road by a Bud Light truck and hit a tree.  Witnesses said they saw a cop that looked like Coach Willis from “The Faculty” driving the beer truck.  Not long after, Bob Seger’s career died and Weasel Momma fled to Mexico to learn all  about home brewing and how to make fragmentation grenades.  Knowing that she was soon going to be a Mother, she educated herself on appetizers, beer games, how to make a diaper out of a 12 pack carton, what time does the drive thru window at Taco Bell close, how to pass a breathalyzer test, the 7th inning stretch and the designated hitter rule.  When the war started; she’d be ready.  Oh, yes, she’d be ready.

Happy Birthday Weasel Momma! You’ve been BLUNKED!  Just as you, Momo, Tom and Melisa blunked me, I am now returning the favor.  Visit these links to read the blunking of Weasel Momma by Momo Fali, Being Michaels Daddy and Suburban Scrawl.  For my response to my blunking, click here.

OOOOOKAY!

I saw a story this morning about a new doll that is causing quite an uproar.  Like most dolls, it allows little girls to act all grown up.  This doll, however, allows little girls to play “Mommy” in the biblical sense.  It’s a breastfeeding doll.  Yep, just slap on the suckling vest and go to town.  I am an advocate of mothers breastfeeding their children, I just think that the mothers should be biologically equipped for it before they learn the procedure.  Was this really the next progression in dolls?  They made the doll that cries, the doll that eats, the doll that wets its diaper, so, yeah, I guess nursing was next on the list.  Where do they go from here?  Maybe they could make Beasty Buffet Barfy Barbie to teach girls how to develop that eating disorder.  Bratz could counter BeBuBaBarbie with Fat To Phat Party Chick.  Bratz makes edgier dolls, so this one would teach the girls how to evacuate before they hit the clubs.  Why stop there?  Next could be Oops-Am I Really Pregnant Barbie, Whoa-Girlfriend I’m So Drunk Disco Bratz and Tats and Brats Barbie: Tailgate and get a Tattoo! What parent wouldn’t want the role-playing help that these wonderful dolls could provide their 1st and 2nd graders?  All I know is that I’ll feel no guilt whatsoever telling NukeBoy2 no when Erectile Dysfunction GI Joe shows up on his birthday list.

THE MEADOW MUFFIN EXPRESS

The timing of this story couldn’t be better as I had a brush with an inappropriate gift just last week.  NukeGirl got invited to a birthday party so I took her to the store to buy the gift.  I was in a terrible hurry so I told her to choose quickly.  She headed straight for the Barbie aisle and chose a Barbie that came with a dog.  “She likes puppies, Daddy; let’s get this one.”  I threw it in the cart and we dashed off to the frozen foods.  It wasn’t until later that night that I finally got a good look at it.  I was putting it in the gift bag when I noticed that what I thought was a leash now seemed too big.  As you can see from the package, all it says is “Barbie” and “Tanner”; there’s no hint at what Barbie and Tanner plan on doing together.  Then I spotted the 2 pink circles designed to blend in with the packaging.  One read “Tanner loves treats!”  I glanced up and saw the “treats” that made me queasy because they looked like brown tic tacs.  The second pink circle read “It’s clean-up time!” and it all hit home.  I had bought a pooping puppy.  The leash was actually a pooper scooper.  The brown tic tacs were Tanners treats AND his road apples; in one end, out the other.  While it is an educational toy that teaches kids that dogs make a mess and require work, I didn’t feel that it was the right way to associate my child to another.  I could just see her Senior Yearbook; “Wow! What a year! Thanks for helping me in Chemistry; I am so not a science girl! Hey! Remember that time in 1st grade when I first met you and you gave me that Barbie doll with the dog that liked to take a shit?  Yeah, just wondering….Have a great summer! Call me!”  Not exactly the first impression we were looking for with a new friend.  NukeMom took NukeGirl to the store on the way to the party for a new present.  There were so many choices, but I think they finally settled on Bi-Polar Schizophrenia Barbie.  It came in two boxes.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

DIAMETRICALLY OPPOSED EYEBROWS

I never figured God would pay me back for all of the bald jokes I used to dole out to my friends, but I was wrong.  He believes in an eye for an eye; or, a follicle for a follicle.  It happened slowly, over time, so I didn’t notice it at first.  Then I realized that it was more than a little thinning hair, and that it seemed to be falling to my back and re-establishing itself there.  It appeared to be more like a migration.  My back resembles a feral dog with a bad case of mange.  I thought about calling the Discovery channel to do a nature show on it; they could tag a few hairs and follow their migration patterns when they flew south for the winter.  Sigourney Weaver could narrate.  They turned me down as I wasn’t as cute as a penguin and I didn’t drive 18 wheelers across frozen oceans.  I’ve reached the point that style isn’t even an option any more; I refuse to go the comb over route, it’s just too pitiful.  I’ve gone to a short cut on the sides with the top blended in, that way I can just shake my head after getting out of the shower and I’m good to go.  Combing is no longer necessary.  Since I no longer have enough hair to justify a $40 “Styling” at the fancy salons, I’ve been frequenting the budget haircut guys.  They say you get what you pay for, and boy, do I.  This last trip was almost enough for me to seriously consider buying my own Flowbee off of e-bay.

I won’t call anybody out, mainly due to the fact that I probably couldn’t afford any litigation, so let’s just say it’s a not a SUPER-GREAT place to get CUTS and CLIPS.  I realize that these places are usually the starting spot for those trying to fill their resume so that one day they can move up to the Major Leagues (“You did it Darla! You’re going to THE SHOW!”), but I’ve had success there in the past and wasn’t worried.  I should have been.  The girl I got this time must still be finishing up her 10 day class.  That, or she’s taking the online version.  I sat down with my magazine and explained what I wanted.  It isn’t too hard; use the #3 cutter on the sides and blend in the top; as long as it doesn’t stand up straight like Rod Stewart’s hair circa 1979, then I’m OK with it.  She finished the sides and asked for my approval.  I nodded and returned to my magazine.  I paid little attention as she was blending the top in, and when I heard the blow dryer, I knew that we were almost done.  For someone in my situation, the hair dryer is usually used simply as a means to get the hair off of the shoulders and to the floor quickly; I don’t require a lot of hair drying because, well, there’s not much to blow.  She must have seen something towards the front of my head that caught her attention, because at some point she quit moving the hair dryer.  The problem was that when she ceased movement, it was parked about 3/64th’s of an inch away from the crown of my head.  Where most of the thinning is occurring.  It only took about 3 seconds for my bald spot to reach the same temperature as the surface of the sun.  I yanked my head forward, and then she realized what she had done.  “OHMYGODIMSOSORRY!”  she said.  I glanced at my hair in the mirror and it looked good enough for me; I wasn’t being overly critical at the time because my only thought was to escape the clutches of Sweeney Todd and her Ray Gun.  After all, there is a Little Caesars next door, and you could classify those as meat pies.

MY DESTINY?

When I got home I assessed the damage.  The sides aren’t too bad, but the top is a little too Emo Phillips-ish.  I also noticed that the diametrically opposed ends of my eyebrows are still at it; my right eyebrow points to true magnetic north, and my left is searching for Ft. Lauderdale.  I just can’t bring myself to shaving them completely off and drawing them in each morning; I know that at some point I’d forget and the kids would freak out thinking I’m that guy from Fringe. Maybe I’ll just bleach the crap out of them and go for the Mr. Clean look; I don’t know.  I’ve learned that a quality haircut is worth the price.  I’ve also learned that if you get a quality haircut at one of the cheap-o places the person that gave you the cut will be gone the next time you go back; cutting no-hitters in the Big Leagues, no doubt.  Either that or you won’t remember their name, or they won’t be working that day, the list is endless; just understand that you’ll end up with a different person cutting your hair.  There may be hope for me, though.  I’ve heard friends talking about it, and I think 60 Minutes did an expose on it; they have these things now called; appointments.  Maybe I’ll give them a try.

The three day weekend of Memorial Day has always signified the beginning of summer for Americans, but I think it is important not to forget its true significance.  It is a time to say thank you to those brave men and women who have given their lives to protect our way of life.  I heard it put best by Zell Miller, former congressman from Georgia:

Never in the history of the world has any soldier sacrificed more for the freedom and liberty of total strangers than the American soldier. And, our soldiers don’t just give freedom abroad, they preserve it for us here at home. For it has been said so truthfully that it is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the agitator, who has given us the freedom to protest. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, serves beneath the flag, whose coffin is draped by the flag who gives that protester the freedom he abuses to burn that flag.

While it is a time to honor those who have fallen in the line of duty, it is also a time to remember those who have been wounded protecting the American way of life.  The Wounded Warrior Project helps those soldiers returning to civilian life after suffering traumatic injuries in battle.  Fisher House is another great organization that helps military families by providing housing and basic needs that allows them to be close to their soldier as they receive care for injuries and illness.  Let’s remember all of our fallen heroes this weekend.