It has been a long week....

Nothing like starting out the week with a bad cold that gets worse and worse.  I know I said I would spare you the gross details and I will...except for this observation:  The older I get and the harder I sneeze or cough, the quicker I have to run to the bathroom. I'm just saying......

When you have a cold, people feel the need to share their most recent cold experience with you.  One person told me about her colds during the last 12 months, including the color of her phlegm. She was very proud.  Another person pointed out that, due to her recent cold, she had decided to dress as "Mucus" for Halloween. My blank stare clearly indicated my confusion and she explained that "Mucus" is a character in the Musinex commercials.  Forgive me for not following.

On Monday afternoon, I gave into peer pressure and left work at 3:00pm.  I stayed home for 2 days in a medicated stooper.  Subjected myself to hours of political ads, crime stories and news.  I think I like the news stories about people that get caught doing stupid stuff. Like the robber that crashed his car trying to get away. He was still able to drive his wrecked car. At some point on his journey to the "hideout" he realized his license place fell off so he went back to the crime scene (swarming with cops) to retrieve it.  "Uhhh, excuse me officer, have you, uhhh, seen a license plate laying around here?  Uhh, yeah that's it. Thanks." Go to Jail, do not collect $200.  Last night they stopped a drunk guy in Royal Oak wearing nothing but his t-shirt.  Can't really remember a time when I was that drunk that I got naked in public...well, never mind.  Anyway, I heard Randy Travis' name mentioned the other day.  I feel sorry for this guy.  Twice now, he has gotten drunk as a skunk and naked as a jay bird and headed down to a gas station.  He walks in and demands cigarettes.  Unfortunately his birthday suit didn't have any pockets.  Here comes the cops. Or the dude that thought he should jump on the back of the alligator that wondered out of the canal in his neighborhood and try to tie a rope around it.  Alligator 1.  Dumb guy 0. 

So to make my healing speed up, I headed to the chiropractor on Wednesday for an adjustment.  All went well and I no longer felt like a human phlegm ball. Sorry for the visual.  Heading back from Ferndale, I detoured through my old neighborhood in Redford.  I lived there for 12 years.  It was nice to see the house.  It hadn't changed much.  However, the "Clampets" have moved out of the house next door.  It appeared a nice new family had moved in.  I miss the Clampets at times.  A 1000 square foot three bedroom ranch with 2 parents, 5 kids, 2 dogs, 1 cat, 4 cousins, 1 aunt and weekly visits by the local cops.  It was like living next to reality TV.  Three favorite memories:

A.  Drove home one day, pulled into my driveway to find that the Clampet kids had taken chalk and drew all over it.  I didn't mind that.  I did mind that they had staged a crime scene and it looked like cops had drawn outlines of dead bodies, guns, bullet casings and they put yellow ribbon up along the property line. 

B.  One day I was looking out the front window at the 4 year old Clampet that walked around talking to herself and petting imaginary animals.  She is very creative I suspect.  Anyway, she walks in front of my house, pulls down her pants and squats on the sidewalk and urinates.  I opened the door and yelled, "hey kid, pee on your own sidewalk for once!"

C.  After work one day I arrived home to find 4 police cars in front of the Clampets and my home.  Mrs. Clampet is outside screaming "My Baby. Someone has my Baby."  Police are knocking on doors, looking in homes.  I open my garage for the officer and he looks around and leaves.  I go into the house and change into warmer clothes because I was going to help look.  I head outside to ask Cousin Clampet what is going on and he says "Angie's missing."  I said which one is Angie and he says the 4 year old that talks to herself. (AKA the urinator).  I grab my flashlight, like I know what I'm doing, and head outside. Suddenly I hear the Sargent yell "Open the *(&^% garage door."  Mrs. Clampet runs into the house and pushes the remote.  All of a sudden the Sargent walks out of the garage with Angie, the urinator.  Mrs. Clampet starts yelling "My Baby My Baby."  The Sargent walks up to Mrs. Clampet and says "What in the hell was she doing in the garage?"  With a straight face Mrs. Clampet says "I must of forgot she was sleeping in the car." Sargent turned around, looked at me, Cousin Clampet and the other neighbors and walked away.

Star bright. Star light. I wonder where the Clampets are tonight.

Sick As A Dog

I said this morning that I was "sick as a dog." What does that mean?  I'm home sick today and my dog is snuggling with me on the couch.  She is perfectly healthy and happy.  I'm a lot sicker than her.  I'm also bored out of my tree.  Just to be clear, if I were in a tree, I wouldn't be bored.  Actually I'd be amazed that I was able to get up into the tree.  But I'm not in a tree, I'm on the couch.

I'm amazed at amount of grossness one can create when sick.  I will spare you the details, but I want to point out that toilet paper is softer than Kleenex.  So I sit here on the couch with my roll of toilet paper, sleeping dog and enough NyQuil to to tranquilize a horse. 

There is nothing on TV.  They are running political ads back to back.  Why don't they just create a political station and run the ads only on that station.  If someone wants to hear them, they can tune in and enjoy them.  Meanwhile, the rest of us don't have to listen to the ads.  It's not like they are going to change anyones mind.  Somewhat entertaining is the update on the corruption trial of the former Mayor of Detroit, Kwame Killpatrick and $90,000 that was stuffed into a vacuum cleaner bag.  What makes you choose the vacuum cleaner bag to hide money? My first thought is a safe in the closet or a suitcase.  But a vacuum cleaner bag?

Well I'm off to check in and see what pain Dr. Phil is subjecting people to. 

e

Road Closed

About a week ago, Oakland County closed Nine Mile Road in front of our house to repair a gas line.  The County put a flashing sign up at the end of the street that said “Road closed starting 09/12/12.”  They also put an orange and white barrier stating “Road Closed to Through Traffic.”  Clearly the road is closed.

For the last week, I have been amazed at the number of people that continue to drive the mile down to the front of my house, see the road really is closed, and turn around. I wonder what those people were thinking. Do they think the road is “kinda sorta closed?” Then I realized why the people of Michigan drive the way they do.  The road signs “kinda sorta” apply to them.  They are only a suggestion.  Speed limit is 70mph plus 10.  No right turn on red, not if no one is looking. 

I do have to admit that the closed road has been a pain.  It has taken me 10 minutes longer to get home. Every time I want to go somewhere, it seemed to be in that direction. It was getting old fast but this morning the heavens parted and the angels sang and the road was open again.

I Swear I Saw It!

I had a co-worker at my old job that adopted her first puppy.  He was adorable and she called him Gizmo.  Now Gizmo was the prince of Chris' world. He went everywhere with her. One day, Chris arrived from work and went in to change into her night clothes.  As usual, Gizmo was very excited and ran around the house and jumped on her lap.  Chris started to scratch his belly and discovered that he had two lumps on his lower abdomen.  Chris freaked!  She just knew it was cancer.  Chris grabbed Gizmo, tossed him in the car, and spead off to the vets office. Unfortunately, Chris forgot that she was still wearing her night gown, robe and hair net. She grabbed Gizmo out of the car, threw open the door and ran inside yelling that someone "needs to look at my Gizzy!" Startled, the Vet tech takes Gizmo and Chris to an examine room.  The doctor comes in immediately and starts to examine Gizmo's lower abdomen and discovers the lumps are gone.  The doctors says to Chris "were they right here" (pointing) and she says "yes."  The doctor tries not to laugh and says "I'm sorry, but Gizmo was probably overly stimulated and those were his gonads."  Chris picked up Gizmo and walked out of the vet, not saying a word.

When Chris told me this story, it is one of the few times in my life where I laughed so hard my ribs hurt for hours.  I told Chris she needed to calm down and stop overreacting when it came to Gizmo.

Now to this past weekend. Vicki and I discovered that Beulah, our English Cocker Spaniel, had a "growth" under her arm.  We checked it everyday and decided to call the vet on Monday.  We knew it was something bad.  Beulah's mother had a pre-cancerous growth removed and we knew it was going to be the same for Beulah.  Yesterday, Vicki took Beulah in and the doctor lifted B's arm up and down, dug through the fur, sniffed B's arm pit and found nothing.  Diagnosis:  Dirty arm pit.  No charge for office visit.

Vicki picked up B and left the building. 

The Beginning

Life as I know it....

Now that is funny, what do I know....

I know that I recently decided to get back into writing after being inspired by several friends.  I miss writing. 
I know that if you look around there is usually something to laugh at. Even in my most troubling times, there is humor to be found. Life has been stressful lately and the more stress I carry the harder I look for the humor in things.  So when things strike me as funny, ironic, or just plain interesting, I'm going to write about them.

I know that I'm lucky to have people in my life that inspire me.

I know that I'm allergic to just about every plant on the planet.

I know that too many veggies causes me other issues.

and lastly I know that as long as I can laugh, everything will be ok.

e