Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Mr. Manatee appearing with Oscar and Roy

I must admit that I've seen and done many things in this life of mine, but my daughter is bringing me into a whole new world of "icky". I must admit her new hospital job is only confirming everything I've always known all these years about men.....they love to show off the family jewel kit. Unfortunately, it seems like it's the middle aged men with goat balls that really like to show their package. I mean doesn't every young woman want to gaze upon 50 and 60 year old dicks and balls? Men, I just love them. No matter how old they get they've still got the ego to think they've got the greatest looking pole and sinkers anyone could ever want.

I've been laughing weekly since her hospital job started. My husband, well I think he's slightly embarrassed to hear these stories from his daughter, but secretly he's thinking he's holding a great looking package too-- despite the effects of gravity. Her latest experience involved a middle aged man with lymphoma of the dick. I thought I knew about stuff, but I'd never considered lymphoma in the dick. Personally, I think men created this disease for themselves.

In she walks and there's this dude that's hung like a manatee and of course he's airing the salty dog out. From the description of things, the manatee would probably be jealous. Job duty of the day: massage the manatee dick to get the circulation going and reduce the swelling. I know I'm not the fastest squirrel up the tree, but I figured this was a hopeless treatment process...at least if man's physiology works like it used to. Massaging manatee dick will increase circulation and will also increase the swelling, thus causing fluid to be excreted through the orifices of that region of the body. Result: treatment failed and will need to be repeated three times per day for the rest of the fucker's life.

I can't imagine this guy will ever want to leave the hospital or the care of his certain P.T.A. He must have good insurance to get this treatment in the first place, so he might be able to ride out a few more months. I know my old man and if he was getting a daily massage of the grand old master manatee, he'd set up permanent residence inside of the hospital. He'd cause swelling just to get the physical therapy massage.

Which brings me to another subject, I had no idea Physical Therapists worked your manatee back into fighting form. I figured they just moved muscles and bones on your arms, legs and back. I didn't realize they had to doctor on the man's main muscle....and no I'm not talking about his heart. The manatee muscle and his oyster buddies Oscar and Roy. I don't know, but this sure brought the meaning of "icky" to a whole new level. I must say one thing...prostitutes in the hood are probably bringing in more money working on lymphatic dicks than a college graduate does. At least they know they can get a hospital job one day if they need it. They'll have experience.

Oh well, I thought I'd share that little tid bit of information. Makes one want to run right out and get a P.T.A. degree doesn't it? Which reminds me....manatee, Oscar and Roy's initials are MOR, which is exactly what the patient is yelling during the massage..."mor, mor, mor"......

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Cave Master Scores by Default..........Death by Heart attack

I love squirrels and anyone that knows me knows this fact. I have squirrel ornaments in every size, style and fashion adorning both the inside and outside of my house. I even have a loyal following of the real, live thing meandering throughout my yard. Some days I might have six and then the next all their cousin for Arkansas arrive and the feeding area will encompass 20. They all know me and know I'm good for food and peanuts.

I also love dogs. Presently three reside within my three bedroom ranch style house. One is the cave master....a pitbull who is the sissiest dog you've ever met. He'd kill you with kisses before he'd attack. His bark sounds bad but he'd much rather curl up in your lap and go to sleep. I also have two labs. The male is a great dog and could care less about the outdoor critters. The female needs to be on ritalyn and has approximately four rat kills under her belt. Both would never touch a squirrel. They know they are something of a pet to me.

Now the cave master....well he's addicted to the damn squirrels. I think they look like they're having so much fun he wants to play along with them. He's obsessed! Everyday all the squirrels line up at my backdoor for peanuts. There might be 10 different ones who come back four or five times for the hand outs. They climb on the screen and look at the cavemaster just inches from his face. He just watches in fascination, anticipating their arrival everyday.

One squirrel started showing up a couple of weeks ago with this big black ping pong ball sized lump next to her eye. She seemed ok, taking peanuts, but the black lump kept growing, starting to overtake her eye. Sunday she seemed a bit weak when she showed up for the peanut and the lump was huge. I had named her Popeye. Sick but that's the way I am.

Yesterday the cave master is let outside to go to their pen but he sees a squirrel and runs towards the side of the house into the flowerbed. I have some flower pots stacked up there and I see he's not attacking anything but has something cornered. I'm thinking it's a baby rabbit or squirrel...something that can't run fast enough. I call him off and I walk over to what he was looking at. Well, it was Popeye and she was on her last leg. Her eye was now totally taken over by the big black blob as was almost the whole side of her head. She stood up and stretched her arms out at me and then sat down and had a heart attack and died.

It was a weird experience and the little arm stretching thing I could have done without. I mean I didn't need all the drama from the dying squirrel. I figured when the cave master had cornered her she was so weak she just had a heart attack from fear. Hell, she didn't know he just wanted to be up close and personal. She was infested with fibromatosis virus. I thought it was a parasite but its not. Warbles are something else. This is a pox disease that infects many mammals, including us. Like the small pox or chicken. The dog earned a kill due to giving the poor thing a heart attack. No, I'm not for my dogs killing other animals. The female lab just can't help herself if a rat gets into the dog pen. Squirrels drink from their pool all of the time and they all just look at them.

She had an informal funeral by being placed inside of a plastic Winn Dixie bag and placed inside of the trash can in garage. She'll end up at the city landfill tomorrow. Another squirrel was walking by moments after she died and he looked over at her and made sure he walked a good distance around her. It was like he was even saying, "ick, she looks really bad and I wouldn't touch her with a stick".

Anyone interested in the virus, click on the link from the University of Florida by clicking on the title. Pretty interesting stuff, at least to a weird person like me.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

New Beginnings and Oliver

She's gone. My daughter has finally exited our home and headed off to new horizons. She left at 18 to head to college but the last few years brought her to her childhood room to roost several times. This being the longest at eight months.

She set out years ago to reach her educational goal and though life threw her curve balls quite a few times....goddamn if she didn't make it. Of course with some help from mom and dad along the way. Hey, I can't help tooting my own horn because I'm proud of my daughter and her strength and determination to succeed. Just because she's twenty five doesn't mean mom and dad can't be an intelligent source for information about life and a good source for cash.

Through lost love, money, strife, timing belts, blown engines, catalytic converters x 2, belts, gas, sleep, living room carpet, rising food, health products, dog care, electricity, cleaning products bills, Ms. Menopause, feeling beaten down from work, over worked husband, disappointments and disillusionment's from ones close to my heart and all the usual crap that happens in my life....damn if I didn't make it out alive. Though it was touch and go for a few moments there.

I am proud of my daughter as she heads towards the career and new job she's worked so hard to achieve. I will miss our nightly chats about everything from screwed up men to screwed up friendships. I will miss our laughing till we cried over something the dogs did or we make them do. Screwing with the dogs has always been a favorite thing my daughter and I share. There are many things we share, the best of all is love and friendship. I am so damn fortunate to have her in my life. She gets me and loves me for who I am and she's also not hesitant in telling me when I'm screwed in the head. That's what you got to love about daughters. They can tell you what a shit head you are and somehow they'll never offend you or make you feel bad because they somehow know the right way to approach you. I guess because they are genetically a part of you.

I cried tonight to see my little girl drive off in her rental car heading into a new beginning of her life. I know everything is now on the right and is only going to get better for both of us. The strife we've been having through life having a shit attack on both our heads, is now going to go away. You see I'd been kidding her for weeks that when she gets to Orlando she's going to meet some short dude named Oliver and he's going to steal her heart. My kid has a thing for short guys and she's pretty tall at 5'9''. She also had just dumped a jerk and was swearing off men and mending a hurt heart and pride. She kept saying "sure mom, I'm going to meet Oliver" sarcastically. The whole thing has become a daily joke for weeks. Something only her and I are in on.

She calls me from Orlando when she arrives at her girlfriends house and tells me something that was so spiritually saying it's going to be ok. Her girlfriends basset hound is named Oliver and I guess he and my kid hit it off right away. Sounds twilight zonish to me......two minutes in Orlando and she's already met an Oliver she's fallen in love with. Sent shivers up me, while the two of us laughed our ass off.

I can't help but wonder was it the picture of my mother at 17 where she and my daughter look so much alike, that I placed in a plastic bag and made Felisha take with her for protection. You see my mother and Felisha had a very strong connection and love. I prayed for my mother to watch over her and protect her. Call me crazy but I think Oliver was the sign saying, " don't worry kid, I've got the damn kid in my sights and all will be fine". Whatever it was, I felt suddenly better and knew the kid was going to be alright. I also knew it was a sign I was going to be alright too. I just say thanks.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Not Fit For Human Consumption

Menopause....a battle of wills I'm determined to win! I'm not Catholic but I do have a saint I truly believe in and wouldn't go into battle without.....St. Johns Wort. I am a worshiper of old St. John and the miracle that he can perform on a half crazed woman. It's truly like manna from the gods when I pop that clear little capsule filled with some green chopped up grassy looking stuff. I feel like the blind person when they cried "once I was blind but now I can see". I'm only crying out "once I was insane and now I'm ready for the human population".

Hormones are a funny thing and you'd think after years of donating enough blood to the sewer systems of the world to start my own blood bank, I'd be over this mess. Not. It's almost like an exorcism and when the demon finally begins to loose the battle and leave the body, they become worse and put up a horrific fight. This is what middle aged old lady getting out of the breeding arena hormones feel like. It's like you are going crazy but you're not. You're not crazy because you know you are going crazy. Sounds crazy I know but that's what it's like.

Lately I've not been fit for human consumption, even my own. Hell, I even can't stand to be around myself and would leave if I could. How in the hell my family has stood me I don't know. I think I scare the shit out of them so they just bow and smile and pray like hell they aren't on my hit list. I guess hormones are good for one thing--people will think twice before fucking with you while you're under the influence. There are always those who will try their luck though. My house has learned to just bow and smile. It's safer for them and me if they remain in the humble position. Even the dogs are suddenly starting to act like Caesar Milan had trained them. It's funny how a crazed woman can get things to obey her, unlike when she's in her natural nice and charming state. Did I mention I'm normally and naturally nice and charming....and I always have my lipstick on.

I need to do research but I feel that when I'm losing my mind with the hormones and feel like Godzilla with rabies, I've got too much testosterone flowing through me. I can't help but wonder is this why men are so damn difficult at times....too much testosterone. If that's what it feels like being a man, hell, I don't ever want to be one. I'll keep working on my blood bank any day.

I must admit it's a horrible feeling and I'm thankful that large doses of St. John and his worts seem to bring me back down to earth. I never desired to take to the air so being forced into a time continuum of craziness is horrid. I wonder how many women out there are acting crazy, grouchy and insane due to their hormones and they don't realize it. They are just so used to being crazy that they continue to accept the condition. Not me, bring me back to my normal state of insanity any day. At least when I'm in a normal state of confusion I'm usually in a good mood, laugh, dance, try to sing and have a knack to irritate everyone. Give me irritation through good mood any day over irritation due to fear for their lives.

Women, worship the wort because it works. Before you know it you'll be your old usually irritating self again. Your family won't listen to you, nor will the dogs. Everyone will regain their usual "fuck with you" attitude and you'll be just fine with it. You'll pull out your lipstick and put on a fresh coat and just sit back and smile. You might not be happy with it but it's better than going to jail on manslaughter charges, which was where I was heading. I can read the headlines now "Woman Pleads Insanity Due to Being Under the Influence of Hormones". Sad but it would be true.

To all who know me, it's safe to return to the interior of my world. I'm ok now or as ok as I'll ever be. Don't expect a miracle to have happened. I'm still the same person I was....irritating and silly and bound to have a sick joke or two in my pocket but I won't kill you. The gods and Ms. Menopause only know how long my rehabilitation process will last but the signs will be there when I start to go insane again. Look for the hairy growth forming on my face and ears, fangs developing and saliva dripping down my chin and the dagger should be a dead give away that it's no longer safe to enter the zone........and my lipstick will be smeared. If you're smart-hit me with a dart of worts and I'll be find in 48 hours.

Excuse me while I lay down and worship St. John and all his worts.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

War...The Silent Killer

Yesterday I found out that a friend and past co-worker committed suicide because he no longer could handle the nightly nightmares of his experience fighting in someone else's war. This was a gentle man, as well as a gentleman and I could never imagine him killing. Evidently the forced killing and sights he was forced to endure was the final killer in the war he continued to endure in his soul and mind for the past thirty years. It was a sad end to a man who offered so much to this society, his family, friends and world. War had claimed another victim.

It was comfort tinged with sadness to know he spoke of my husband many times before his demise, speaking of what a good man, friend and talented man he was. It broke my heart knowing this because he was a man, his pride probably didn't allow him to express these nightmares and terrors he had to another man. Men live with this thing called pride and ego and to let go of one ounce of it in front of another man can be suicide to your manly self esteem. Men are raised to be tough and not show their emotions because it is a sign of weakness. We have raised them to believe that they are less if they show they feel, care and are down right scared of a situation.

How he died saddened me even more and made me try to imagine the nightmares this man must have had. Setting yourself on fire and burning up in the backyard is unimaginable to me and probably to most. God only knows what this man's dreams were filled with. Vietnam was a worthless war of wasted lives filled with much more terror than this war we are forced to endure now. The Vietnamese were ruthless fighters and they had the jungle as their protection. Every man I ever knew who fought in that war could never talk about what they experienced and almost all were screwed up in some way or the other. Victims of war as I see it. Our country's attempt to force another people into submission to our ways, like most of our wars are about.

I hate war and I hate the fact the United States feels it has to force everyone to be democratic or believe in Jesus. We are truly the bully on the block for the other nations of the world. We don't care how many young men's lives we screw up or take to try to accomplish this fact. We don't care that almost everyone in the world hates us and sees us for what we are. Sure, we might come on the promise of rescuing you from terrorists but the price you pay will be high. You better turn your shawls in for a crown of thorns Jesus supposedly wore or there will retribution. Your cities, people and way of life will be forever changed once we step foot on your land and it's not always for the better.

I guess some people are cut out for the brutality and senselessness of war but I'm sure most are not. Personally, I think we should put the leaders of the countries who disagree with each other into a pit and let them fight it out. Gone are the days when the leader rode the lead horse and led his men into war. Now our leaders hide behind an oak desk and play with men and women's lives as if they were playing Monopoly. I can't even imagine what our new set of live casualties will be like when they return to this impoverished country they call home. There will be no jobs, health care or anyone who probably even gives a shit about their minds condition.

I'm so sad about this man, Bill. Bill, I hope your passed loved ones and G.I.'s you saw perish in the war, were there to help guide you towards a better life on the other side. I pray you have now found the peace that this country so ruthlessly ripped from you. You will be missed and you did touch the lives of others around you as I'm sure you will have the chance to do again. I never once realized the torment you were going through; you hid it well. Not like so many people who are ravaged by life's simplest tragedies that are common place to everyone's lives. You never whined, moaned or made others feel bad because of what you were personally going through. You handled it as they say "like a man". You may have felt weak but you were stronger than most people I know.

I guess the wars will continue and this country I love so dearly will continue to try to make everyone on the Earth like us. If we aren't fighting for money it's for religion, so I assume the brutality will live on. We've been fighting over who has the correct God for centuries and with all the bloodshed throughout those years we've learned nothing. I'm going to laugh if in the end we find out that the maker of this beautiful planet earth is nobody we thought it would be....Jesus isn't the one opening up the door when we knock. Imagine how many people are going to be shocked.

Give peace a chance......