Whoever said, "There's a sucker born every minute" (and to those, who even as you are reading this are thinking, "P.T. Barnum, ya stupid git" or words to that effect and to whom I must counter, "Nuh-uh, s'not - Google it") now, where was I? Oh yes, an illiteracy of idiots, a confederacy of dunces - well, let's just say they abound.
The vastness of the very vapid first became apparent to me in the mid-70's when the "Pet Rock" became such a sensation. I could see how it might've had limited appeal in say, New York City. Although let's be realistic, if, for reasons I still cannot fathom, we wanted to add a rock to the family, we would've had to go either all the way (three blocks) to Central Park or "to the country" to pick one out. We could however go and view them at The Met (four blocks), or on our very exciting forays (in taxi cabs through the park) to The West Side and The Museum of Natural History. This way we could visit them without all the responsibility and emotional attachment that might come with having a pet one.
I have, of course, now found, over several decades of not living in New York, that rocks are every-fucking-where! Not a day has passed since then that I haven't kicked, trod upon, tripped over, driven over or had ricochet off my windscreen, gravel, pebbles and rocks. This is Montana - we grow rocks here.
And yet - quite successful were those rocks in a box. Go figure.
At the moment, I am greatly perturbed by the popularity of something called a "Snuggie". Can there really be THAT many people who are ill-equipped to use a normal blanket? Except for the polyester part, back in the day, my people used to have the same thing - except we turned it around, added a smart little belt and called it a robe, FFS!
But wait - there's more!
Now there is some new thing that is a one piece body suit, that looks good on absolutely not. one. single. person in the commercial. It appears to be made of 151% fully flammable polyester and there is absolutely no way that anyone wearing this ensemble can look dignified. Ever. And yet, they'd have you think that it's what everyone is wearing now. There's at least one guy in the ad who, in a smart suit, could totally pull off Captain of Industry but alas, just as with the rest of the poor people in the ad, the only vision that this one piece suit really conjurs up is Polyester Cult Member.
Why am I talking such smack about polyester? Well, A) I really only like natural fibers - mostly cotton (I have a love/hate relationship with fleece and will only wear that which is either 100% cotton or has the very smallest amount of polyester) and 2) Other than that, what can I say - it's the same thing with Mandy Patinkin. Neither Mandy nor polyester have ever done anything to me personally, it's just that they both give me the creeps.
Let's face it, I ain't gettin' any younger and not only are the chances almost non-existent that I will ever get to retire - I may actually still have to work for another three years after I am dead - so it is clearly becoming incumbent upon me to come up with a better plan than the daily entry into the Publisher's Clearing House dealio. I wonder if they reanimate Ed McMahon now to give the winner the giant cheque or if it is someone else?
So, pet rocks, backwards robes and an outfit that screams, "Help me, I am being held hostage in some sort of wintery Jonestown. They're going to make us drink the hot spiced cider tonight".
I'm reasonably smart, why can't I think of something that stupid?
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Nigel Tufnel pain scale
My body came up with a way to celebrate both Veteran's Day as well as Nigel Tufnel Day. Unfortunately, it was an executive decision in which I had not been consulted. I so would've voted no.
Anyone who has been playing along knows that I have rather a lot of body parts that have just packed it in. I don't mean to be whiny, just catching other people up. It started with a ruptured disc and sciatica in 1978 and it's just been downhill from there. I wondered if my doc's assistant (a lovely woman, really) was taking acting lessons on the side after calling me with the results of my x-ray's to tell me, in a rather dramatic delivery that I had "severe osteoarthritis" in my knees. No cartilage. Nada. Zip. Alright then, good to know. Thanks.
At the time of my heart attack, two and a half years ago - I would say that my daily pain, on the old 1-10 scale was maybe 5. I think that because my body has been falling apart gradually rather than all at once it has allowed me to develop a fairly high threshold of pain. I also think that like our parents' generation, we still hold a sort of "suck-it up and walk-it off" ethic. I tried to walk off my heart attack for 20 hours before I finally thought "Yeah, this can't be good". I just got lucky.
I was faithful about going to the physical therapy, but
unfortunately finally had to quit because they didn't listen to me. When I explained that my knees and back no longer work all that well, I'd get, "Why don't we just do a mile on the treadmill?" We? WE?? OK, well first, even when I had hit "Circus Fat" did I ever refer to myself in the first person plural. Please do not "we" me, lady. I've been living in this body for almost 51 and a half years and I don't recall ever seeing you there.
Anyway, in my effort to be a good and compliant patient, I went along with it until finally I couldn't deal with the collateral damage that was being done to other parts. When I told them that we would be parting ways, the always upbeat lady said "Oh, that's too bad - we were doing so well" and all I could think was, "Yeah, well I'm beginning to feel like an only slightly more ambulatory version of James Caan to your Kathy Bates". My daily average pain had wandered up to about 6.
Now I just go with stretching, five pound weights and dancing. Just put on my iPod and rock out. It's both cathartic and is flexible enough so that on the days that the same can not be said for you, you can just use the other parts that seem to be acting reasonably.
This past spring my body decided to give me a little something new to take out for a spin: bursitis in my right hip. How craptastic. It was pretty hideous for a couple of weeks and then faded back a bit. It never went away completely but was behaving rather like a sibling who is waving his fingers 1/32 of an inch away from your face thus inciting the ballad of the back seat: "Make him stop touching me", "Nuh-uh, not touching, not touching". Anyway, it never went completely away, it was no where near what it was in the beginning but it would continue to make its presence known. I believe that I was being stalked quite frankly. Up we go to 6.5 now being the very best for which I can hope. Oh well, suck it up.
Just this past Monday, at some point in the mid-day, BOOM, full-on, "Hi, didja miss me? I'm baaack" in my right hip. I am trying to maintain my sense of humour and remember that Maya Angelou said something to the effect of "Just because I have pain, doesn't mean I have to be one".
On Tuesday morning, I put in for refills of my pain meds because it can sometimes take a couple of days and I wanted to make sure I was covered for the weekend. Today's pain is brought to you by the number 8.
Check-in at the pharmacy Tuesday on the way home from work. Yes for my muscle relaxers, No for the hydrocodone. Oh well, that was just a crap-shoot anyway. I still have a couple of my pills left.
Wednesday morning, closing in on 9 territory. I really hate when that happens. Had to go do one thing that absolutely had to be done for work, went to check back at the Drug store. Nein. Alright, still have another day or so.
Thursday - this is going to be my lucky day, I can just feel it in my bones. And joints. And tendons. And muscles. And nerves. No worries, I have two pills left (although three is what it takes to make even the slightest difference). I get through the things that I absolutely, positively had to get sorted out at work and then on my way home at around 3:00pm, I was going to suck it up, put my head phones on loud, get food for the weekend, pick-up my pain meds, go home, make a nest of the 9 pillows I seem to require and spend the weekend laying on ices packs, etc. and really commit to not doing all of that ADD wandering about - just for a couple of days.
The prescription still has not come back - very frustrating because they really are usually quite good on both ends. No pain meds on Thursday night. Ow.
Guess what happened this morning? Did anyone guess bursitis in the other hip as well? Alright then - gold stars on your foreheads.
Called the Pharmacy, the prescription is in, oh, wait but there is a hold on it because insurance won't pay for it until the 15th. I only wished that this sort of thing surprised me anymore but I am, more often than not, the living embodiment of "If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all". The young lady (they know me well there, and really always do their best to try to sort something out) said though that she could give me some of the prescription if I wanted to just pay the regular non-insurance rate. Hell yeah, I'll pay anything. Seriously, I'm at 9.5 and sinking.
Now, how to get there with the least amount of sceaming and swearing? ........Nope, never mind, there is no way - just off you go. 9.5 was my resting pain rate, certain movements, going up and down the stairs and in and out of the car for example, had me letting go with some humdingers. No one can compete with a private catholic school girl when it comes to swearing. No. One.
I was seeing stars at this point but made it to the shop, picked-up my meds and took them immediately when I got home. I'm down to about a 7.5 which doesn't sound all that great but believe me, I am grateful since a couple of times today certain movements made me hit 11, just for a second, but still...
The irony of hitting an 11 on 1-10 scale on 11/11/11 has not been lost to me. It does not amuse me but I accept it.
Do not attempt to adjust your regular pain scale. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to... The Nigel Tufnel pain scale.
Anyone who has been playing along knows that I have rather a lot of body parts that have just packed it in. I don't mean to be whiny, just catching other people up. It started with a ruptured disc and sciatica in 1978 and it's just been downhill from there. I wondered if my doc's assistant (a lovely woman, really) was taking acting lessons on the side after calling me with the results of my x-ray's to tell me, in a rather dramatic delivery that I had "severe osteoarthritis" in my knees. No cartilage. Nada. Zip. Alright then, good to know. Thanks.
At the time of my heart attack, two and a half years ago - I would say that my daily pain, on the old 1-10 scale was maybe 5. I think that because my body has been falling apart gradually rather than all at once it has allowed me to develop a fairly high threshold of pain. I also think that like our parents' generation, we still hold a sort of "suck-it up and walk-it off" ethic. I tried to walk off my heart attack for 20 hours before I finally thought "Yeah, this can't be good". I just got lucky.
I was faithful about going to the physical therapy, but
unfortunately finally had to quit because they didn't listen to me. When I explained that my knees and back no longer work all that well, I'd get, "Why don't we just do a mile on the treadmill?" We? WE?? OK, well first, even when I had hit "Circus Fat" did I ever refer to myself in the first person plural. Please do not "we" me, lady. I've been living in this body for almost 51 and a half years and I don't recall ever seeing you there.
Anyway, in my effort to be a good and compliant patient, I went along with it until finally I couldn't deal with the collateral damage that was being done to other parts. When I told them that we would be parting ways, the always upbeat lady said "Oh, that's too bad - we were doing so well" and all I could think was, "Yeah, well I'm beginning to feel like an only slightly more ambulatory version of James Caan to your Kathy Bates". My daily average pain had wandered up to about 6.
Now I just go with stretching, five pound weights and dancing. Just put on my iPod and rock out. It's both cathartic and is flexible enough so that on the days that the same can not be said for you, you can just use the other parts that seem to be acting reasonably.
This past spring my body decided to give me a little something new to take out for a spin: bursitis in my right hip. How craptastic. It was pretty hideous for a couple of weeks and then faded back a bit. It never went away completely but was behaving rather like a sibling who is waving his fingers 1/32 of an inch away from your face thus inciting the ballad of the back seat: "Make him stop touching me", "Nuh-uh, not touching, not touching". Anyway, it never went completely away, it was no where near what it was in the beginning but it would continue to make its presence known. I believe that I was being stalked quite frankly. Up we go to 6.5 now being the very best for which I can hope. Oh well, suck it up.
Just this past Monday, at some point in the mid-day, BOOM, full-on, "Hi, didja miss me? I'm baaack" in my right hip. I am trying to maintain my sense of humour and remember that Maya Angelou said something to the effect of "Just because I have pain, doesn't mean I have to be one".
On Tuesday morning, I put in for refills of my pain meds because it can sometimes take a couple of days and I wanted to make sure I was covered for the weekend. Today's pain is brought to you by the number 8.
Check-in at the pharmacy Tuesday on the way home from work. Yes for my muscle relaxers, No for the hydrocodone. Oh well, that was just a crap-shoot anyway. I still have a couple of my pills left.
Wednesday morning, closing in on 9 territory. I really hate when that happens. Had to go do one thing that absolutely had to be done for work, went to check back at the Drug store. Nein. Alright, still have another day or so.
Thursday - this is going to be my lucky day, I can just feel it in my bones. And joints. And tendons. And muscles. And nerves. No worries, I have two pills left (although three is what it takes to make even the slightest difference). I get through the things that I absolutely, positively had to get sorted out at work and then on my way home at around 3:00pm, I was going to suck it up, put my head phones on loud, get food for the weekend, pick-up my pain meds, go home, make a nest of the 9 pillows I seem to require and spend the weekend laying on ices packs, etc. and really commit to not doing all of that ADD wandering about - just for a couple of days.
The prescription still has not come back - very frustrating because they really are usually quite good on both ends. No pain meds on Thursday night. Ow.
Guess what happened this morning? Did anyone guess bursitis in the other hip as well? Alright then - gold stars on your foreheads.
Called the Pharmacy, the prescription is in, oh, wait but there is a hold on it because insurance won't pay for it until the 15th. I only wished that this sort of thing surprised me anymore but I am, more often than not, the living embodiment of "If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all". The young lady (they know me well there, and really always do their best to try to sort something out) said though that she could give me some of the prescription if I wanted to just pay the regular non-insurance rate. Hell yeah, I'll pay anything. Seriously, I'm at 9.5 and sinking.
Now, how to get there with the least amount of sceaming and swearing? ........Nope, never mind, there is no way - just off you go. 9.5 was my resting pain rate, certain movements, going up and down the stairs and in and out of the car for example, had me letting go with some humdingers. No one can compete with a private catholic school girl when it comes to swearing. No. One.
I was seeing stars at this point but made it to the shop, picked-up my meds and took them immediately when I got home. I'm down to about a 7.5 which doesn't sound all that great but believe me, I am grateful since a couple of times today certain movements made me hit 11, just for a second, but still...
The irony of hitting an 11 on 1-10 scale on 11/11/11 has not been lost to me. It does not amuse me but I accept it.
Do not attempt to adjust your regular pain scale. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to... The Nigel Tufnel pain scale.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
If Only My Metabolism Matched My Attention Span.
I used to have an attention span. Really, I did. As a child I could spend hours reading a book, or playing cards, or backgammon or whatever. Now, there is absolutely no question that I have ADHD. Or ADD. Or, quite simply, JWTFiGoH (Just WTF is Going on Here)?
I no longer seem to be able to go from Point A to Point B in one straight line. Either physically or mentally. My last 15 minutes have been as follows: I should really write a post about something. I think I'll nuke some broccoli. Type in the name of the post and part of the first paragraph. Go to iTunes, download a song. Think about downloading some more. Nope, let me go back to writing the post. WTF am I watching on TV at the moment? Comment on someone's post on facebook. Type a bit more. Oh, I should take my empty broccoli bowl to the kitchen. Get up (or slide down, my bed is a bit higher than standard but then again, I am a bit shorter than standard) and let loose with the usual string of invectives that accompany any movement made once all of my joints have frozen up from sitting for all of 6 minutes. Return from the kitchen with some pistachio nuts. It's the lowest fat nut you know. Seriously, what is on my TV? Scroll through the channel channel. Switch over to "Little Miss Sunshine". Oh shucks, man - why isn't this one of the High Def channels? Crap, now I need a fresh Diet Coke. Exchange empty can for full one. Alright then, what was I writing about?
Oh yes, then there are the times I find myself in a room but have no idea why I am there. The small lounge off of my bedroom is a room that I refer to as "The Room of French Farce". It is maybe 8 x 10 but there are five (yeah, I said it, FIVE) doors off of this room - so when I come to the inevitable halt in that room and ask myself what in the fresh hell is it that I was going to do, this room is of no help whatsoever. It is merely a portal to several other places. Am I doing laundry? Was I getting something from the kitchen? From the bathroom? From the cupboard? From the back fridge? Am I leaving the house? It often just ends up with me back in my bedroom trying to remember what it was I was trying to accomplish in the first place.
Oh, sorry I'm back again, just went over to fb for a minute.
Hey, look - the guy from "Breaking Bad" is in "Little Miss Sunshine".
Right, the attention span thing - I blame it on the whole "multi-tasking" movement. What the hell happened to just tasking?
Why do we need to move faster? Why do we have to have everything right now? Patience used to be a virtue - now the three minutes it takes to boil a cup of water for tea just seems WAY too long. As foretold in the book of Eagle: "Life in the fast lane - surely makes you lose your mind. Life in the fast lane - everything - all the time".
I believe that the philosopher, West, summed it up nicely when he said:
Work it, make it, do it, makes us
Harder, better, faster, stronger
N-n-now that that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
Cause I can't wait much longer
I have already wandered aimlessly for over a half a mile in a very small space today.
I have also just gone back to iTunes and downloaded that Kanye song. Now I am listening to it, dancing from the waist up and typing...
Nope, wait here - full dance break!
I have the attention span of a hummingbird - if only my metabolism matched my attention span...
I no longer seem to be able to go from Point A to Point B in one straight line. Either physically or mentally. My last 15 minutes have been as follows: I should really write a post about something. I think I'll nuke some broccoli. Type in the name of the post and part of the first paragraph. Go to iTunes, download a song. Think about downloading some more. Nope, let me go back to writing the post. WTF am I watching on TV at the moment? Comment on someone's post on facebook. Type a bit more. Oh, I should take my empty broccoli bowl to the kitchen. Get up (or slide down, my bed is a bit higher than standard but then again, I am a bit shorter than standard) and let loose with the usual string of invectives that accompany any movement made once all of my joints have frozen up from sitting for all of 6 minutes. Return from the kitchen with some pistachio nuts. It's the lowest fat nut you know. Seriously, what is on my TV? Scroll through the channel channel. Switch over to "Little Miss Sunshine". Oh shucks, man - why isn't this one of the High Def channels? Crap, now I need a fresh Diet Coke. Exchange empty can for full one. Alright then, what was I writing about?
Oh yes, then there are the times I find myself in a room but have no idea why I am there. The small lounge off of my bedroom is a room that I refer to as "The Room of French Farce". It is maybe 8 x 10 but there are five (yeah, I said it, FIVE) doors off of this room - so when I come to the inevitable halt in that room and ask myself what in the fresh hell is it that I was going to do, this room is of no help whatsoever. It is merely a portal to several other places. Am I doing laundry? Was I getting something from the kitchen? From the bathroom? From the cupboard? From the back fridge? Am I leaving the house? It often just ends up with me back in my bedroom trying to remember what it was I was trying to accomplish in the first place.
Oh, sorry I'm back again, just went over to fb for a minute.
Hey, look - the guy from "Breaking Bad" is in "Little Miss Sunshine".
Right, the attention span thing - I blame it on the whole "multi-tasking" movement. What the hell happened to just tasking?
Why do we need to move faster? Why do we have to have everything right now? Patience used to be a virtue - now the three minutes it takes to boil a cup of water for tea just seems WAY too long. As foretold in the book of Eagle: "Life in the fast lane - surely makes you lose your mind. Life in the fast lane - everything - all the time".
I believe that the philosopher, West, summed it up nicely when he said:
Work it, make it, do it, makes us
Harder, better, faster, stronger
N-n-now that that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
Cause I can't wait much longer
I have already wandered aimlessly for over a half a mile in a very small space today.
I have also just gone back to iTunes and downloaded that Kanye song. Now I am listening to it, dancing from the waist up and typing...
Nope, wait here - full dance break!
I have the attention span of a hummingbird - if only my metabolism matched my attention span...
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