Drugs, Pugs, Jugs, and Thugs

I’ve been out of the loop a bit for the past couple of weeks, (busy kicking COVID’s ass), so I’ve got some catching up to do on the matters of rivers and streams… in other words, current events.

That was some good news about Biden’s drug negotiations with Medicare kicking in, wasn’t it? Well, unless you’re among 99.9% of the country that’s not an executive with a Big Pharma company. They don’t like this at all because, well, they can’t tell you. But they mean “profits.”

From my friends at Crooks & Liars:

They should look up the meaning of “short term,” huh? Also, I’d like for someone to tell me how “what is best for patients” to pay several hundreds of dollars a month for maintenance drugs when the rest of the world pays a pittance? I’m sure a flak at PhRMA would tell you it’s so they continue to innovate and come up with new drugs, but I call bullshit. Do you really think they’re going to stop inventing drugs (and the syndromes their drugs are supposed to treat), fold up shop, and go home? Of course they’re going to continue to come up with more ways to leach us dry, just like they do every other time a new drug becomes eligible to go generic. As long as we have a for-profit medical system, drug companies will continue to invent ailments and the treatments to fix them.

I was happy to see Xarelto on the list, because that’s a blood thinner I should be taking (per one of my heart doctors), but costs over $300 for a month’s supply. I can almost see it, as a one-shot deal, but blood thinners are often maintenance drugs one has to take over a lifetime, especially after dealing with strokes or heart issues like atrial fibrillation. So any help in that arena should be applauded.

The fact that during the GWB administration, the Republicans actually supported and passed a rule forbidding Medicare to even negotiate on drug prices goes to show you how deeply they are in the pockets of Big Pharma. And they continue to fight about it today!

This is yet another block in the wall of evidence showing why the Republican Party is not on your side.

***

Moving on…

I’d call Mitch unfit for office too, but there are dozens of reasons more pressing than his freezing up again. The less he says, the better off the country, as far as I’m concerned. But of course, MT Greene had to insert herself into the mix because she couldn’t bear the spotlight not being on her for 15 seconds. Maybe Mitch ought to remind her of the famous quote, “It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.” That’s one she could take to heart, if she had one.

And speaking of this half of the performance art group “Heckle and Dyed,” didn’t Lauren Boebert get herself into some shit this weekend? It cracked me up because it went through the usual alibi cycle: “No, I did NOT do that. People say they saw me do it? Nah, they’re just liberal snowflakes. I absolutely didn’t do it. You have video of me doing it? All right, I did it, but it’s OK because I’m allowed. Don’t you know who I am?”

I saw the video and it quite clearly shows her A) vaping, and B) getting herself felt up like she was re-enacting in “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights.” The video had everything but an old car horn sound effect going “AHH-OOOOH-GA!” I didn’t see her grabbing any peen, but that area was a little darker than the rest and I couldn’t really tell. The dude had a smile on his face though, so probably.

The thing is, I don’t really care about any of that. It just shows she’s crass, entitled, and a liar, but that’s not something that wasn’t apparent before. Yes, she’s a terrible Representative, but that’s based on her stated beliefs, and, well, I was going to say “actions,” but she hasn’t really taken any that’s had an effect.

The ire-raising part of all this to me is that she’s one of the cultural warriors of the Right, putting forth all these rules that her opponents need to follow or be castigated, and she and her cabal of “friends,” do not.

The best response I’ve seen so far is this:

As I recall, AOC was smeared after a video surfaced of her dancing on a rooftop, before she was elected. Just… dancing, like that’s some kind of problem. Has the GOP turned into the townspeople from Footloose? I guess we have to send Kevin Bacon in there to lay some applicable Bible verses on them. I don’t think there’s anything in there about going to second base in a crowded theater though…

***

Here’s another reminder that we cannot let TFG, nor any of his MAGAts, be elected President, or we’re looking at the end of the Republic. This is the kind of “king” shit that our forefathers expressly wrote out of our Constitution.

TFG wants you to believe he was just going along, minding his own business, all legal-like, when the big bad Democrats decided to go after him. So he has every right to jail his opposition and replace anyone in the entire government who doesn’t pledge allegiance to him.

The fact that there are mountains of evidence that guided every decision to prosecute is beside the point. And that point is that he thinks he has every right to do whatever he wants because he’s White and he (allegedly) has money.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t. Or at least he shouldn’t. We still don’t know the level at which he’s stacked the deck.

***

Congratulations to the Baltimore Orioles, for clinching a playoff berth! I was there in 2014 when they clinched a spot, and it was really exciting. At least at first… I ended up having to leave the park in distress… abdominal distress, so much so that I almost left a trail around the stadium concourse. And then, a month later, at an AL Championship game, it happened again. This time, it took on a Sci-Fi feel.

I only mention the Orioles here because recently, when I was watching a game, I came across a guy with a really unfortunate name.

Yes, the White Sox have a pitcher whose name is Bummer. And it sounds just like you’d think. In a post from last summer, I mentioned that the Orioles have a guy named “Santander,” but rather than pronouncing it “San-TAN-der,” it’s pronounced “Sahn-tahn-DARE.” If this Bummer guy wasn’t able to change his name, (he may have come from a long line of Bummers,) he could at least play with the pronunciation. Like, “No really, my name is pronounced, “Boo-MAIR.”

And it wouldn’t even take any paperwork unless he went whole hog and put an umlaut over the U.

And one last note on fandom…

I hate it when my team plays on Monday night. I guess I made myself forget about it this weekend because I was sitting there on Sunday, all dressed for the game in my best mojo-producing gear… game jersey, team shorts, team socks, and a T-shirt that said “Cleveland Never Rocked.” And then came the realization that they weren’t playing until the next night, so I had to get up and change again. No sense wasting good mojo when your team isn’t even playing.

And last week, my guys got their butts kicked soundly, but I was able to find a bright side. Earlier that morning, I forgot to snap down the clipper guard over the blades of my beard trimmer and accidentally took a notch out of my beard, just below the ear.

The good news is that if my team had won that day, I’d then be obligated to keep taking notches out every week until they lost (and I couldn’t blame it on the jersey I was wearing.) I take my team mojo obligations seriously.

If the Indictment Fits, You Must Convict

OK, so he was only off by two weeks! Looks like there’s gonna be a show tomorrow (4/4/23) as TFG gets dragged in for prints and a mug shot. And to me, the funny thing is, according to the New York Times:

So how does that square with his big pronouncement two weeks ago that his indictment was imminent? It shows that he was lying through his teeth again, in yet another scam to gain headlines, sympathy, and donations. The grift never ends.

The usual shitheads are poo-pooing the whole thing, as expected.

So it’s the GOP position that law enforcement presence at protests is the root cause of violence? Would that count at BLM protests as well?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

It amazes me, the straws people grasp at to clear themselves from blame. I’ve heard more convincing alibis from 4-year-olds with pudding all over their faces, explaining how they haven’t been into the dessert.

I’d like one of these apologists to explain to me why anyone should disregard evidence of a crime that was solid enough to convince a grand jury to indict. What’s the rationale for ignoring a crime? Are we in favor of a ranking system where only crimes that are this tall get to go on the ride? The fact that there is such evidence precludes this from being a political revenge hit job. If it truly was, you wouldn’t have evidence like with the Benghazi investigations. The fact that they dissipated without a single charge shows there was nothing there to begin with but a political smear.

I’m sure tomorrow will be a spectacle but we have to remember that this is only one step on a long road. Getting a conviction will be an entirely different animal, and getting one that will hold up to judicial appeal will be even tougher. At every step of the way, there will be pressure brought to bear on the participants, to move in one direction or the other. I just hope they follow the law and the evidence, and let the chips fall where they may.

Déjà vu All Over Again

Really? We had another school shooting? Let me find my “Surprised” face. I don’t even know what to write about these anymore. The ground is well-covered. (I’d link, but you can just click the label “Smoking Guns” from the right-side label cloud.)

No shit. I don’t think this was an article that needed to be written. Maybe just a line that says, “See every other mass shooting article written over the last 20 years.”

If you watch Fox “News,” the big story was that the shooter identified as Trans. That brought the Republicans up out of their seats, to demand action. Out of the 2500 or so most recent mass shootings, three have been done by Trans people. So obviously, there’s your problem! Not the other abundance of straight white males.

Maybe liberals should go out and claim that it was obviously a false flag operation on the part of religious conservatives. They seem to think that’s a solid argument to make every time their people are jammed up.

I’ve written before that I favor a ban on semi-automatic rifles like the AR-15 and high-capacity clips. I don’t think these instruments of war belong in the hands of non-military citizens. Our citizens have plenty of other guns they can use for hunting and self-defense that are less likely to cause the kind of mass destruction we see with these rifles. And I know a similar ban worked in the past.

The problem is that there are so many more of these guns in circulation now than there were in the mid-nineties when the ban was implemented. And the overall issue is so much more polarized than it used to be, so I don’t see how a similar ban could be made effective. Too many people would refuse to turn in their guns, leaving mass arrests to be the only recourse, and no politician (or police force) would have the stomach for that. So on we go, doing nothing.

Maybe someday they will surprise me, but I think this has become our new normal.

While I spend time trying to dissect political arguments, sometimes you just have to let a Matriarch step in and lay a good old-fashioned smack-down on an idiot:

Niiice.

And on That Note…

…Let me leave you with the funniest thing I saw this week:

Change is in the air!

Cuts, Butts, and Nuts

My original plan was to write about the debt ceiling mess. I mean, how many times must we do this dance? Every time it comes up and there’s a Democratic president, Republicans pretend that they’re against national debt and decide to hold the debt ceiling for ransom, so to extract concessions that would never otherwise be on the table.

When there’s a Republican president, the debt ceiling is raised without issue. Even when the Trump tax cuts were adding over a trillion dollars to the deficit, you never heard a peep about the deficit from Republicans. They’re not against government spending, per se, just against Democrats directing the spending.

Republicans came into this term stating out loud that their goal was to extract concessions or else they’d tank the economy. What I don’t know is why they think it will play out differently this time than it has the last several times they did the same thing. Do they think no one remembers?

Once those Social Security checks stop rolling out, people will start losing their minds… including Republican people. Not that these criminals care about the average retiree, mind you. They’re just collateral damage. But eventually, when the wheels of government grind to a halt and it begins to affect businesses, the Donor Class will start button-holing people and telling them to cut the shit, and then the debt ceiling will be raised and we’ll all live to fight another day about something else.

So I don’t feel like there’s enough here worth blowing up into a full post. Instead, let’s talk about some goofy shit.

It all starts with Chicken Butt. Do you know how little kids run around repeating pointless rhymes and stuff? For no reason whatsoever. Around here, first-graders love to come up to grown-ups and say, “Guess what?”

You answer “What?”

They say, “Chicken butt!” and giggle with glee. They will do this to their parents roughly 25 times a day. My wife, Sweetpea, the first-grade teacher, has been hearing this for generations.

A while back, I saw this design on a t-shirt and immediately got it for her.

I mean, how could I not, right? I had to live up to the t-shirt I got myself at the same time, that said, “Trophy Husband.”

On Friday, she wore it to school, (under a buttoned shirt), to reveal to her class. That was the plan, up until she opened her email and saw one from a parent with a complaint. This parent said her daughter told her that a boy from another class used inappropriate language in the cafeteria. The daughter came to her to ask what it meant, which upset the parent.

What was said? She heard a boy say “My nuts hurt.”

Yep, “nuts.” That is what set off the alarms. And rather than engage in a 30-second explanation with her child, the parent decided that the school needed to drop what they were doing and investigate, to stop this little nut-cracker in his tracks.

At that point, Sweetpea decided this probably wasn’t the best day to reveal her chicken butt shirt. She directed the email to her principal and added “Suggestions?” Later she told him she’d speak to the other first-grade teacher, who said she would talk to her class about appropriate language in the cafeteria.

But if you ever wonder why schools seem like they don’t have enough time in the day, things like this are a contributing factor.

What’s the beef here, that a 5-year-old didn’t use the word “testicles?” Or did she have a problem that this boy referred to something that’s literally a part of him? It’s a good thing they retired the “Dick and Jane” books, or who knows what else kids would overhear and cause their parents to email their complaints? Oh man, what if the cafeteria was serving mushroom caps? There would be anarchy.

She’s lucky her kid was never in a class with my youngest nephew, Sammy, when he was in first grade. He not only used that term liberally, he rolled it out with a great flourish.

“Oooh,” he’d say, “That got’em right in then NNNNNNNNuttts!”

One time there were at a Catholic League gym hockey game and Sammy saw the goalie putting on his pads. At top volume, he exclaimed, “Hey Dad, those are for his NNNNNNNNUttts!”

If “nuts” didn’t corrupt a Catholic League gym full of students and parents, I’m sure the cafeteria crowd will survive.

Now watch, the next brainstorm from the school board will be some kind of naughty-word tracking system that teachers to have to complete daily. I bet Florida already has one. Just wait until these new report cards come rolling out. Wouldn’t it be a shame if a student could be kept out of the college of their choice based on incorrect gonadal terminology from elementary school?

Good thing we have such active parents in the community, who keep teachers focused on what’s really important.

A Lack of Hospital-ity

After a lull during the holiday season, I’m finding my conservative friends are dipping their toes back into the meme world. It’s a good thing because I was getting bored without a regular supply of dumb shit to debunk.

I’m sorry, this meme seems a little desperate, a little insecure, a little…

I think the problem I have with this meme is that there are two versions of the word “authority” in play here.

A parent having authority over their kid? I’m all for that. And no one else is really trying to deprive that. BUT, “being” an authority? Sorry, no. There’s nothing about being a parent that imparts specialized knowledge or wisdom upon you. Kids get sent to school to learn specific things which have been exhaustively vetted. Students have no need to participate in a daily demonstration of the Dunning-Kruger Effect.

If you want the authority to teach your kids whatever cockamamie ideas you’ve ingested, home school them. You don’t get to insist that others teach the version of reality to which you ascribe.

If you want to use home remedies that no medical experts have approved, well, no one’s stopping you. Peace be with your children’s souls and enjoy the three hots and a cot when you’re in jail after their death. Or in a less serious version of this story, I hope you can afford to pay for their ongoing trauma therapy.

Next case:

Oh, so now you want socialized medicine? (No, I know you don’t really care about eliminating medical debt, you just don’t want anyone getting off the hook for their student loans.)

This is just one more piece of the Republican war on education. As I’ve said many times over, the last thing the Republican establishment wants is an educated populace. They want people pliable, obedient, and willing to eat up whatever version of reality they’re pitching that week.

The last thing they want is a voter base with critical thinking skills that might get in the way of whatever boondoggle they’re trying to sell. They want their emotional appeals to do their jobs without getting messy things like logic or context involved. Hence the endless pleas for more kids to go to trade schools and pushback on anything resembling student loan relief.

Don’t get me wrong, eliminating the medical debt for cancer patients is a wonderful idea. But why stop there? There are a plethora of diseases and maladies that create crushing medical bills. The issue isn’t just cancer, it’s everything. We’re the only developed country with a for-profit medical system and it shows it by also being the most expensive. And the Powers That Be (AMA, Big Pharma, insurance companies) will fight tooth and nail against any of that changing because that would derail their gravy train.

In the last few weeks, I’ve had an up-close view of how things are going in hospitals and it did NOT give me a warm and fuzzy feeling.

My mom took a fall Christmas night that entailed an ambulance ride to the hospital and a 2-week stay. She suffered a deep cut on the head, three cracked ribs, and a kidney laceration. Sweetpea and I followed the ambulance there but when we arrived (about 3 AM), only one of us could go into the lobby. So she had to wait outside on a bench while I tried to find out where they took her. And of course, they couldn’t tell me because she was still being processed through the ER, and didn’t know where she was going to end up. All I could do was call back in the morning and see where she was.

This meant leaving my mom alone there, with no idea where she was or where her kids were. It was not a comforting situation.

I got there the next day, as soon as visiting hours arrived, to find her in an ER observation area awaiting transport to a room. At least I could go with her for that. And thus began a 2-week span of daily hospital visits in which my sister, brother, and I took turns staying with her from noon till 8:00 PM and advocating for her. And believe me, there was a lot of advocating necessary.

I will say without reservation that the nurses were wonderful, pretty much each one I worked with. They all did the best they could do given the stressful circumstances. It was obvious that the place was understaffed. There just weren’t enough bodies on hand to give timely care.

There were two things that needed tending to. The first was pain medication. I’ve heard that busted ribs are excruciating to bear… it hurts to even breathe. And consider that my mom is about 5-foot-nothing and 100 pounds. There’s not a lot of meat on her bones to insulate her from pain-causing jostling. So there were times that regardless of the medicine “schedule,” Mom needed some additional help to relieve the pain.

Sure, they give you the Call Button, and the desk usually answers right away, but that’s where the breakdown comes… getting word to the people who are supposed to come help.

This was especially an issue with the second recurring need, which was getting help to the bathroom. Now, to some degree, I or one of my siblings could help her move around. The problem was that she was tethered to the bed by various wires and IVs. It was a full-on excavation just to get her out of bed.

So, when it was time to “go,” she’d buzz for help, get assured it was coming, and then have to wait for 30-90 goddamned minutes! And when the nurse or tech would arrive, it was always the same story: “Oh, nobody told me.”

We talked to the head nurse and anyone else we could get to listen but that never changed. They’d always say, “Just call for help,” and it would never arrive in a reasonable time. And note, they had her on softeners and prune juice to get things moving (because the pain killers can be binding. So these two things were working at cross purposes.

Eventually, we just started moving her ourselves, if not to the full bathroom then to the portable pot that we could put by the bed. They didn’t like that at all, but at that point, I didn’t care.

“If you don’t want to clean up the mess, then get your asses in here when she has to go!”

The plan was to move her to a rehab floor for physical therapy, as soon as her vitals stabilized. By the second Friday, she was ready to go. The prior day they contacted her insurance company for approval of PT but no one had heard anything back. That afternoon, a doctor told me, “If we don’t hear from them by 2:00, then we probably won’t until Monday.” That meant they wanted her to stay in the hospital for two more days, not for a medical reason, but because they couldn’t get an answer from Insurance.

I let them know that this wouldn’t be happening. There’s no way we were letting her stay for another weekend in the hospital, suffering personal indignities that go with it, and risking COVID infection with every breath. They could set up PT sessions for home, which was fine with them. We got Mom home that Friday (a week ago).

And one last insult… they lost her driver’s license. Upon request, I handed it to the EMT from the rig that picked her up and no one has seen it since. The hospital says they don’t have it and never got it. The EMT house says they gave it to them in the ER and hospitals lose these things all the time. Just one more clusterfuck, where everyone points the finger at someone else. Good thing Mom’s driving days are over.

I haven’t seen a bill yet but I know it’s going to be a doozy. And to think, they wanted us (or the insurance company) to pay for two more days in a private hospital room, just to wait for a phone call. I bet if she wasn’t insured, they’d have hustled her out post-haste. All I could think was that this is another reason why medical bills are so high. It’s bad enough being forced to pay them to provide pills you have already, or for food that never gets eaten (or often, was never even asked for).

So Mom is recovering at home and making great strides. She had her first PT session this afternoon and a regimen of exercises that should help her regain her strength. She’s fortunate that she had family members that were here for her. There are so many that don’t. I feel bad for those who have to go through a hospital stay alone. It’s already trying just being under hospital care, let alone trying to understand what’s happening and what’s to be expected.

And I feel even worse for the poor souls who languish in hospital corridors or ER areas because unvaccinated COVID patients are occupying all the rooms. To that end, Maryland is in a lot better shape than other parts of the country because over 90% of our state has had at least one vaccination. The hospitals are hoppin’, but they’re not overwhelmed like they were in early 2020, when they were using hotels as hospital overflow.

I’m thankful for the wonderful nurses who did their level best to care for my mom. But they really need to look at their processes and procedures because that shit is just not working.

Homeless Thoughts - The Princely Edition

I do “Homeless Thoughts” posts when I have several ideas that are too short to make “Odd Bits” posts. Although we’ll see how this shakes out. Sometimes I’m not sure how things are going to shake out until I get to the end.

Rush to Judgement

The Senate Republicans mad dash to fill judicial seats with their own people makes perfect sense not just because they might only have the rest of this year to do so, but because it might ensure another four.

They may well need friendly judges in place when all the voter suppression, election-fixing charges, and recount requests get filed. They already have SCOTUS, but the top court may not even be brought to bear if all the lower courts find in favor of the suppressors.

From the “What Are They Thinking?” Dept.

When walking from my office to the subway last Monday, I saw that the Powers That Be installed a series of plastic posts along the main drag into Baltimore’s Harbor East office complex, to seal off a bike lane.

My first thought was that they’d have to be bendy, like ski slalom gates, or else they won’t last long around here. So I walked over to test one… nope, it was rigid, a piece of PVC stuck in a collar, somehow attached to the street.

Are they freakin’ crazy? I don’t see how those are going to last a month. Some idiot who’s talking on the phone is bound to mow over a half dozen at a time. And the ones he misses, bored kids are going to knock over out of mischief or boredom.

Lo and behold, when I went back to work the next day, I could see it starting.

I hope they have someone on retainer to fix these, or else these things will soon be only a distant memory.

Memories… Like the [something, something] Moonlight

I have a list of ideas for this post jotted down on a pad by my computer. I made the notes last week, before Sweetpea and I had a little getaway. (More on that later).

So I come back to my desk, ready to write my post, I check the list, and the first Item I see says “Steamed Vajj.”

I have no idea what the hell I was talking about. I mean, I’m sure it had something to do with Gwyneth Paltrow’s new candle:

It must have been something I was enthusiastic about because it was the first item on the list, which meant it was the one that caused me to start the list in the first place. I must not have wanted to let that one get away. Alas, I should have added a little more detail.

I have the memory of a goldfish anymore. It’s probably time for me to start dipping my CBD gummies into a big jar of Gingko Biloba.

Royally Steamed

Not that it matters, but I totally support the Harry formerly known as Prince, for walking away from royal life. It’s easy for people to harrumph from the gallery but it must be a real burden to live under such a spotlight and microscope. I don’t blame Harry one bit for wanting to protect his family from the howling jackals who drove his mom to her death. Riches, fame, and royalty didn’t do HER much good.

If he wants to step out and become his own man, more power to him. It’s not like there was any real scenario where he was going to take the throne anyway. What was he in line, 6^th? The only way he becomes king is if Trump tries to drone strike the Mayor of London and a bomb accidentally takes out all of London, including the royal family, and they have to bring him in from the Canadian bullpen.

Meet-A-Versary Weekend

To celebrate the day we met three years ago, and following day when we had our first date, Sweetpea and I decided to have a little stay-cation down in the ritzy part of town.

We stayed at a Hilton Garden Inn, at which we found an excellent rate. (Consider that the surrounding hotels, the Marriott Waterfront and the Four Seasons, want $320-$450 per night. No thanks!)

Our plan was to burn up some of the very generous gift cards we got as wedding presents. We had $200 for the rooftop restaurant at the Four Seasons, and $100 at Fleming’s Steakhouse.

For what it’s worth, we had a grand time. We had dinner at Flemings Saturday night, followed by brunch at the Four Seasons Sunday morning. It was quite a feast, in two parts. We didn’t even need to eat again on Sunday. (We did, but that’s beside the point. We didn’t have to. Just appetizers.)

Sunday afternoon, we saw "1917," which was a real masterpiece of film making. We totally recommend it.

But what I wanted to talk about was the hotel. As you may remember, this summer we stayed at a Hilton Garden Inn in Pittsburgh, and I was most unhappy with the design of the bathroom. I wondered if the design was institutional throughout the company and we’d have the same problems we had before.

I’m glad to say, they solved most of my issues in this location.

·        They had regular hinged doors to the bathroom.

·        The fixtures were not loose.

·        Water pressure in the shower was fine and the temperature got as hot as we wanted it.

·        They still had a large mirror opposite the glassed-in shower stall, but it was designed so that you were out of visual range when you were near the showerhead.

·        And even though the toilet faced the same mirror, you were again out of visual range, so you needn’t be tortured with the sight of the faces you make whilst trying to rock one out.

On the downside, they still didn’t have an exhaust fan. Yes, there was a continuous ventilation duct, and that was effective at air and mist filtration, but ignored the primary purpose of a hotel bathroom fan: sound cover. In the closed quarters of a hotel room, no one wants to hear what someone else is doing in there, and vice versa. Maybe if they had a switch to pipe in some traffic noise or something.

The other issue, and this was new, is that the shower stall leaked. There as about a half-inch gap on the hinge side of the door, which allowed water to escape onto the floor. And if the door wasn’t completely closed tight, water could get out the other side as well. There was no “latch” to seal the door, magnetic or otherwise.

You would think that the primary principle of designing a shower stall would be to keep the water inside. How can one intentionally leave a half-inch gap, right where the water bounces off you? Where’s Art Vandelay when you need him?

Do you know how I discovered this problem? I didn’t spot the water leaks when I was standing in there barefoot, getting dressed. That would have been too easy. It wasn’t until we were getting ready to go and I walked back in wearing dress socks and stepped into a big puddle.

Gah!  I hate that! So now it’s time to leave for the restaurant and I have soaking wet socks. (And it’s not like I had packed a whole rack of backup socks, either.)

But, Sweetpea came to the rescue before I could begin swearing in earnest. She said, “I’ll get the blow dryer.”

Genius!

It kills me to say it, but I never would have thought of that. (Probably because I haven’t used a blow dryer in 40 years.) And as an even nicer benefit, it made the socks all warm and toasty. I decided I should blow dry my socks every winter day from now on.

So thank you, Sweetpea, for finding me, accepting me, loving me, marrying me, for richer and poorer, dry socks and wet. You’ll dry my socks, I’ll fold your underwear, and we’ll live happily ever after.

Dear Hilton,

It’s been busy here in Darwinfish Central the last few weeks. As you may recall, I got married the last week in June. But just as we were coming back from that trip, we had to embark on a road trip the next Friday through Monday, back to The Burgh.

We had a family reunion scheduled for my mom’s side of the family. I wasn’t crazy about scheduling the event so close to our wedding trip, but we don’t get together all that often so if there’s a gathering, I don’t want to miss it.

Besides, this would be the first chance they’d have to meet my new bride. So we basically rolled through the short holiday week and went right back on the road. As we did in Florida, we stayed at a Hilton for a few days. This one was a “Hilton Garden Inn.”

Our family usually patronizes the Hilton brands, so to consolidate reward points, so my brother and sister and their families were staying there as well.

Normally, I have no issues with Hilton or the services and rooms they provide. But this was a relatively new one, which we thought would make for the best stay. Nope.

The main room was mostly fine, but I hated the bathroom. There were several issues I had, which I didn’t think were inconsequential. But none of them were the sorts of things that the staff could reasonably address. My beef was with the architects and builders.

So, when after our stay they began the inevitable pleas to complete their survey, I gave them my considered response. And if I’m going to tell the Hiltons, I might as well tell you.

First, I made sure I told them the staff was fine… I had no complaints about them, as they were friendly and professional. But here’s what was wrong with the room… the bathroom.

·        They had one of those sliding doors for the bathroom door. It made lots of noise whenever you went in or out, which could be bothersome when one occupant needs to take a midnight whiz while the other is asleep. And there were gaps on either side, which left one feeling like anyone could peep in.

·        The fixtures were loose. There was a square base around the handle that turned the shower on and off, and it was crooked. At first, I thought it was supposed to be kind of avant-garde like Tim Burton designed the place. But upon further investigation, it was just loose, and wouldn’t stay straight.

Same problem with the toilet paper holder. It had an open side for the roll to go on but also was not fixed firmly to the wall. Anytime you touched the TP, the arm bends downward and the TP rolled off the bar.

·        The water pressure was terrible and it took forever to get to a temperature suitable for human bathing. Once it got warm, you just felt like you were getting peed on.

·        It was bad enough that the shower stall (no tub) had a clear glass door to it. But they also had a full-size mirror over the sink, directly opposite the shower. Does anyone really need to see themselves soaping up? I don’t want to see that! My only alternative was to do everything while facing the opposite wall in the shower. I only had to do that, though, until the whole place fogged up, because…

·        They didn’t have a goddamn exhaust fan in there! In my book, that’s just unacceptable for a hotel. There wasn’t a bathroom fan in our Florida hotel either, so maybe it’s a standard Hilton practice.

Not only do you need a fan in there to keep the mirror from getting condensation, there are other considerations as well. These are closed quarters. If you have two people cohabitating in such a small space, the last thing either party wants is someone to go in there and befoul the whole room!

Also, consider the poor schmo on the inside. While their loved one is just on the other side of the wall/gapped sliding door, they can hear every grunt, splash and worse. Even if the fan doesn’t actually work very well, the din is a relief for all involved. Believe me, the last thing I want my dearly beloved to think is that she married American Pharaoh. Must we destroy all the illusions the first week of marriage?

·        And if there wasn’t anyone else in the room and you dared to sit on the can without closing the door, you’re staring straight into another full-size mirror on the outside of the closet. Like that’s a view of oneself anyone ever wants to see. What are you supposed to do, pose like The Thinker?

·        And for the one non-bathroom-related item, the carpet stayed wet in front of the A/C unit for the duration of our stay. I’m glad I noticed it when I was barefoot. How bad does it suck when you step in something wet, in your socks? Especially when you only have so many pairs of socks with you in the first place? Shit like that ruins my whole day.

I got a response back from the hotel manager, but it reeked of canned copy. I know there was little he could do… my main beef was with the design. Although he could probably get someone to tighten up those loose fixtures. I probably should have left my room number.

I’m sure they’ll find a way to get even with my ass… probably change the expiration date on all my Hilton Honors points to “next week.”

Maybe next time we ought to just go back to the Omni William Penn, downtown.

The "C" Word

After months, if not years, of dread anticipation, it was finally time to confront a colonoscopy. (Yes, it’s that C-word. If you prefer not to deal with today’s subject matter, it's best to get out now.)

At my first meeting with my new primary care doctor, late this summer, I finally consented to go under the pipe, only six years overdue. And once I got a look at the instruction sheet, the dread began.

It wasn’t the dread of the procedure; it was the preparations. And not even the incessant pooping… it was the fasting that had me the most worried. A whole day (and part of the next), without food? That was gonna suck so hard.

Director’s DVD Commentary: Obviously, I knew I was going to write about the experience, but even that entailed some dread because it’s already been done. In fact, one of the funniest things I ever read was a 2008 column by my humor-writing idol, Dave Barry, about his colonoscopy. You’ve probably read it too. A condensed version of the column has been floating around in emails for years. In fact, you should probably skip my post and go read his.

Also, my close, personal friend, Sherry Stanfa-Stanley, included a chapter about her colonoscopy in her book, Finding My Badass Self: A Year of Truths and Dares. (Go buy it!) So that precludes me from merely dropping every pooping pun I can think of into a post.

But if you stick around, I’ll doo my best. (Sorry.)

I selected a Friday for "C-Day" because normally work from home on Thursdays and Fridays, and I could begin the prep on Thursday without having to take the day off. (And without having to penguin-walk through the office to the men’s room every 15 minutes. Heaven help anyone who would dare to stop me to chat.)

During the preceding week, I was on a restricted diet. Among other things, I was to avoid seeds, nuts, fresh or fibrous vegetables, and fruit. None of this would be terribly restrictive; in fact, that was mostly my usual diet (before Sweetpea).

But I also had to give up coconut, mushrooms, and salami/pepperoni; the latter three really put a damper on pizza night. And avoiding coconut meant I had to stop working on the German chocolate cake Sweetpea made me at the beginning of the month.

The Day Before C-Day (B-Day, I guess) finally rolled around so the time for the “fast” had begun. The previous night, I filled up on leftover pork roast and mashed potatoes. I knew that would have to hold me awhile because all I was allowed to put in my mouth Thursday were clear liquids (water, tea, soda, vodka), hard candy, and jello. Red and purple-dyed drinks were forbidden. So I had my supplies in order:  

Since cherry and grape were out, I went with anti-freeze blue.

I was surprised that this was over-the-counter stuff. I figured they’d keep it in the back with the Sudafed. It would be easier on the public after a meth lab explosion rather than one from explosive laxatives.

The Gatorade was another dilemma. Again avoiding reds and purples, most of what was left was green and yellow-tinged stuff, which I wasn’t really feeling, and I already had some blue-screen blue. So I went with this odd white-cherry concoction. Think there are any natural flavors in there?

I was leaving nothing to chance.

And, of course, I must have in-house entertainment. Between my tablet/iPhone, a half-read Playboy, and my mirror-accessed TV, I would be able to spend hours on the hopper before becoming bored or having my legs fall asleep.

The instructions said to take the Dulcolax tabs at 3:00 PM and then starting at 5:00, to begin drinking 8 ounces of Miralax every 15 minutes until it was three-quarters gone. Then at 11:00 PM, take the remainder.

I was not OK with this. I at least wanted a chance to sleep away some of the starvation, but this guaranteed I’d be up into the wee hours. So I decided to start the drill a little earlier than that.

So I took the Dulcolax an hour earlier, at 2:00, right after “lunch:”

Not a color found in nature. Just Bomb Pops.

Nothing happened for the next two hours. I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not… I figured it was like the Advance Team, in there to soften up the enemy for the full assault.

At 4:00 I mixed up the Miralax and we were off to the races. The powder mixture made it a little thick, but it was rather tasty. Good choice, going with the Glacier Cherry Gatorade.

Second shot at 4:20. No activity. Third at 4:35. Nothing. Fourth at 4:50. Nada. I’m beginning to fear the explosion to come. Fifth at 5:10. At least I wasn’t hungry anymore. Sixth shot at 5:30. That was supposed to be the stopping point until I finished the last two glasses later on. I went to check the Miralax bottle, to make sure it wasn’t some kind of internal sealant. But literally, two minutes after that last glass, the dam began to crack. About freaking time…

5:48: Now things are opening up and the flood waters are raging. 6:02. 6:20. So far, no worse than an ordinary bout of the runs; not the firehose Dave Barry led me to believe was waiting.

7:00. It took a while since the last event. I wondered if I should start the rest of the Miralax. I decided I should wait.  7:15… the waters are raging. But where is the substance? All that pork and potatoes last night have to turn up somewhere… Who knew Miralax was also an industrial-grade solvent?

The next event was at 8:15 and I seem to be tapped out.  I figured it was time to hit the remaining potion. No way I was waiting until later that night, only to have it kick in at 2:00 AM.

9:00, 9:50, more hot sauce. Around 11:25, watching the end of “Spiderman: Homecoming,” I nearly committed the cardinal sin… I almost farted. Luckily I caught it in time before I had to bleach my sofa.

I wound up the night with one more trip right before bed, around midnight, and found I had finally reached the prized “clear” stage. (And you can thank me later for not describing the full-color spectrum of the preceding stages.)

Because my brother’s office is literally a minute away from the doctor’s office, I had him give me a ride in. He said he’d pick me up at 9:00, which meant I got a solid night’s sleep until I got up at 8:00.

I was worried, though… the first potty trip of the day showed I’d surrendered the coveted “clear” status. Luckily I didn’t have to worry for long; the second trip brought me back to clear. I tried one more time right before we left, just to be sure, but I was finally tapped out. I think maybe dust came out.

Once at the hospital, I was checked in and gowned in no time. They told me not to even bother with trying to tie it in the back, which was fine with me. The last thing I needed was a dislocated shoulder from trying to tie up that torture device.

As per my usual custom, I tried to be charming and fun with the nurse who got me ready. I always want the medical staff to love me, just in case anything goes wrong. Same with the anesthesiologist… He was in charge of making sure I remember nothing about the ordeal, so I don’t want him doing a half-assed job.

Right before they wheeled me in, I asked if he could stow my phone under the gurney, with the rest of my stuff.  He said, “Are you sure you don’t want to take a selfie first?”

That cracked my shit up for the next five minutes. I was like, “That would be the most epic Facebook update ever!”

I said, “I can just see it… me laying on my side, gown on, IVs in, all the doctors cheesin’ behind me, everyone giving a big Thumbs Up!”

All we’d need is a selfie stick. Or a camera-shy intern.

I added, “Just wait until the selfie generation starts aging into colonoscopies. This is gonna happen, you just wait.”

We were both still chuckling when the doctor came in and my guy goes, “He wants to take a selfie with us!”

I was like, “KIDDING!  I was KIDDING!” I’m pretty sure they had more important things to do.

So they got me all arranged, lying on my left side… bottom leg straight, top leg bent, and gown pulled over my hip leaving buns exposed to the various people hustling in and out of the room.

The anesthesiologist was right in front of me so I looked up and said, “I’m feeling entirely too conscious right now.”

He said, “But you're NOT conscious. This is all just a dream.”

Who knew these guys were such comedians? I said, “I hope not because this is the worst dream ever! I could be on a beach somewhere but here I am, HERE, with all of YOU…”

And then a moment later… I was OUT. There was no hazy awareness of anything; I was knocked right the hell out. One minute I’m laughing with the anesthesiologist and the next, the doctor is telling me it was over and all results were negative. No polyps, no nothing. 

“See you in ten years,” she said.

Sweetpea had just arrived and they led her right in. This was the second time in five months she’s seen me in a gown on a hospital bed. After about 15 minutes of letting me get my head together, we were sent on our way, discharge papers in hand.

Later, as I was looking through the documents, I saw the analysis of my colorectal health. It seems they have a scoring system… There are three segments and each is graded on a 1-3 scale.  I had one 2 and two 3s, for a “Boston Bowel Preparation Scale” of 8 out of 9. I felt like I just pitched a one-hitter and won the Colon World Series.

The next thing I gotta do is talk to my buddies and see what their scores are. You know us guys… once there’s a score involved, everything becomes a competition.

So then I turned the page and I’m immediately confronted with… Pictures!  Full-color pictures of my colon! Jesus! They could have at least put a warning page in there. You don’t just spring something like that on a guy…

No, I will not include the pictures here.  You’re welcome.

So, now that’s all done, and not only were there no medical issues, it really eliminated all the fear and anxiety about the process.

I’m just amazed that there were no findings. I figured, with all the meat and drink I consume, there had to be something wrong in there. Now they’ve gone and encouraged my behavior.

After spending the day emptying out my colon, I can now spend the next ten years filling it up again!

Busy as a Bachelor

I know I have it pretty good.  I mean, I complain and kvetch about being busy, like most people, but I know I don’t have nearly the kind of burden that others do.  All I have to do is look out for myself.

When I set something down, I know it will be there later.  When I put leftovers in the fridge (yeah, it happens every once in a while), I know they will be there when I want them later.  When I set the temperature on the thermostat, it stays that way.  And when I clean something, it stays pretty clean unless I mess it up. Or, it gets dusty…

That really removes a lot of stress from my life.

So it’s funny when every so often, I think, “Wow, I was really busy this weekend,” or “I got so much done,” and then I have to add a colliery… “Well, yeah, for ME…”

I thought I had one of those busy Saturdays last week.  I had to go do some shopping to solve some household issues.

First of all, during a seasonal cleaning, (“seasonal” meaning I clean once during football season, and then again during baseball season), I learned that the vacuum cleaner that Temporary Girlfriend left me in 2014 had stopped working.  There was still suction but the roller brush no longer spun.  I never liked that vac in the first place, so I figured I’d go pick up a new one.

I used to have an old classic metal Hoover; the kind with the bag that you have to replace (which I rarely did, until it was ready to burst).  But she made me toss it and use her multi-attachment suction hose thingy.  It was OK in principle, but I think it was on its last legs.  It was also deafeningly loud.

In addition, I needed to replace the broken screw that secured the toilet seat to the toilet.  It had snapped clean off.  Someone, (who totally wasn’t me,) was standing on the toilet seat, to pour soapy water over the top of my shower stall, when the seat slid and snapped the screw.

Heaven forbid I’m ever using the toilet for its intended purpose (as opposed to as a step stool… or would that be a stool step?), and slide off onto the floor.

And while I’m in the plumbing department, I thought I’d take a look at the shower heads.  A year or two back, my landlord had low-flow shower heads installed in all the units.  I can’t stand it.  Every morning my showers are totally uninspiring.  The shower stream is so feeble; it feels like I’m getting peed on, instead of getting my clean on.

I meant to pick up a new bathroom rug to go in front of the toilet, but I didn’t like the ones they had.  My current one is perfectly functional, but I had a bit of a laundering mishap.

They used to match.

I washed all the bathmats together, along with the dark blue ones I have in the other bathroom.  Oops.  Don't know why only the one turned.  First time in 30+ years of doing laundry that I ever had a color mishap.  Time to start a new streak.

Anyway, the shopping trip was successful.  And I was able to find just the screws, so I didn’t have to buy a whole new toilet seat.

So when I came home, I had some chores to do.

First, I replaced the toilet seat screw and tightened up the other one.  Good to go!

Tool use: pliers and screwdriver.  Ding! 2 bonus points.

I replaced the shower head, with a very simple 3-way spray number.  And when I fired it up, the water came out with a nice “woooosh!”  I may never have to clean the shower glass again.  Morning showers have been much more bracing, ever since.

Tool use: pliers.  Ding!  1 bonus point.

When I took off the old one, I could see a lot of grit collected in the in-flow screen.  I’m sure that’s what was killing the water flow.  I could have cleaned it out and put it back on, but: A) I had already opened the package for the new one, and B) even when it was new, the water flow was still pretty piddly.

Then it was time to get serious… I had to assemble my new vacuum cleaner.  It was easy, though, no thanks to the directions, which were conveniently printed on the box flap.  All I had to do was attach the handle to the base, using two screws.

This might have been a job for my power screwdriver, but alas, it was not charged.  (Damned thing loses its charge in no time.  I really have to plan for using it, so to charge it up the night before.)  But I had a ratchet screwdriver, and that did the trick.  I probably would have had to use it anyway, because the screws didn’t go in very easily.  I had to bear down on them.  (Yes, Rik, the ratchet was set on forward, not reverse!)

Five years ago, I would have spent the next couple days in misery, from the hives I’d get from putting that much pressure on the heel of my palm.  But my Delayed Pressure Urticaria seems to have cleared up and is no longer a factor. [knocks wood]  When I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt a little sting in my palm, but by the time I got up in the morning, it was gone. So if that kind of hard pressure on a concentrated area didn’t create hives, I don’t know what will.  Halle-freakin-luiah… only took 14 years.

Tool use: Ratchet screwdriver.  Ding!  1 bonus point.  (If I’d used my power screwdriver, I’d get 2 bonus points… it’s an extra point any time I use a power tool.  Ups the danger / fuckup factor.)

Anyway, after putting it together, I had to take the vacuum out for a spin, right?  This unit must have some serious suction… the canister was filled past the fill line with one vacuuming.  I wonder if there’s any fuzz even left in my carpet.

So that was my “busy day;” I changed a screw, put on a shower head, attached the handle to a vacuum, and swept the floor.  All told, it about 35 minutes of labor, about half of which was the vacuuming.  Whew, I was exhausted!  And that’s why I laugh…

To conserve energy, I waited until this past weekend to try out the attachments.  But they work.  I successfully used the suction brush attachment to clean the dust from my mini-blinds.  I also used the furniture attachment to suction off my couch and throw pillows.  I don’t think that’s ever been done.  (I guarantee it hadn’t been done by ME.)

Had a bit of a problem using the edging attachment to clean out the tracks on my sliding glass door… it kept sucking in the sheer curtains.  I felt like I was in a Lucy sketch or something.

In marginally related grown-up news, my Mom sent me a box of spices this week.  We were talking about seasoning roasted potatoes and I mentioned I’d picked up some rosemary to go on them.  Mom asked if I had any sage.  I didn’t.  Next thing I know, there’s a box of spices being delivered.

So now I have to figure out what to use them on. I emailed her right away.

“Hey Mom, what goes best on frozen chicken fingers, tarragon or herbes de provence?”

I took a shot at using some of them with swordfish, on Saturday.  I looked up on the internet to see what would go best and came away with oregano, rosemary, and thyme.  I also added black pepper, butter, and lemon juice.

Just to see how much of a difference there’d be, I did one piece with the new spices and the other like I always did before; with just lemon pepper and butter.  (I did add the lemon juice.)

Picture is before cooking.  Forgot to take one after cooking... I scarfed them up too quickly.

Both were good, but the newly spiced piece was much better.  Funny, though… it didn’t just taste better, it was tenderer and juicier.  I cooked them both together in the broiler and both were the same thickness; I don’t see how one could be drier than the other. But it was.  Maybe the spices have some insulating qualities I don’t know about.  I’ll just have to try again.

In the spice box, they also had some loose things… cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, and a couple of nutmeg nuts.  I understand I have to use a cheese grater to shave the nutmeg nuts, which means I’ll have to go back to the store and buy a cheese grater.

Because they’re so small, I’ll have to be careful not to grate my knuckles.  I can totally see that happening.  Maybe I can use some pliers to hold the nutmeg when I grate it, the next time I make pasta.

Tool Use / Unconventional: pliers.  Ding!  3 bonus points.