Thoughts and prayers, people. Thoughts and prayers.

Next week, my buddy Mike, is having surgery to repair his rotator cuff. Among the hoops he must jump through to prep for said surgery is a conversation with the anesthesiologist.

PICTURE IT....SICILY, 2020.

After registration and various stops for ECG, vitals check and blood work, Mike makes his way down into the bowels of the Aberdeen Hospital. Not far  from, as luck would have it and most likely for convenience sake, the morgue.

He is ushered into a small nondescript exam room by the 40ish (slightly cranky) doctor. The requite niceties were dispatched and the interview commenced.

"So, you are having an operation on your right arm?'" 

Mike's heart skips a beat. "Uh...no! My left arm." This is where the doctor decides to check the chart.Luckily, this person will not be in charge of that portion of the program. I did suggest, however, that he take a sharpie (pre-op) and write THIS ONE! on his left shoulder.

Moving along he is answering numerous questions, allergies, medications he is taking, etcetera, etcetera and then the doctor inevitably  rounds third with this...Wait for it.

"Do you smoke?"
"No, but I vape." Mike proudly proclaims his non-smoking status.
To which the doctor replies, in a 'moving right along' sort of tone, "Same thing."

Taken aback a little, Mike replies. "Well, actually it isn't. I am not getting all those chemicals...." At which time the doctor cut him off and dismissively continues his 'tick the box' questionnaire.

Let's just take a moment for that to sink in.

Mike is about to go under the knife and this fool is filling out the questionnaire on his own. Why are you even asking if you are not willing to accept the answers given?

I am going to assume that this particular doctor didn't just step off the boat from medical school and hit the ground running. I am also going to assume he is at least literate but I really want to check the published date of his reference books. As well as check his actual diploma.

Fuck it...at that point I would have settled for a drivers license although the 'written' test for that is multiple choice.

I do not pretend to comprehend what is actually involved with the intricate calculation of the concoction that will ultimately be injected into the trusting and unsuspecting, Mike, but ...(I should note that Mike is actually standing here while I write this so he is neither trusting nor unsuspecting and the current time)...I'm thinking the correct information might prove to be invaluable in the determination of the correct dosage.

But that's just me, right?

Please keep Mike in your thoughts and prayers. Thankfully its not brain surgery so we have a decent expectation that he will pull through.

Today is my vape'aversary!

I am one year a non-smoker!

55 Days and not counting.

I have been vaping now for 55 days and I have to say I am loving it.

I have not picked up a cigarette since, nor do I want to. There is no withdrawal because I am still getting the one thing that was addicting me to tobacco in the first place and that is nicotine.

I am loving my 510 and have since bought more batteries so I have it in 4 colors now.

I have even gone off the tobacco flavors and now vape pretty much only coffee and Dr. Pepper. I loved that one so much that I squeezed the life out of the bottle to get the last drop. More is on the way thank god.

Now I am thinking ahead. With all the talk about e-juice having issues at customs, I figured I would stalk up. You just know the tobacco lobby is going to be all over this shit once it catches on. After all, this could potentially cripple the industry if everyone who currently smokes switches to e-cigs. And since the tobacco tax is justified by claims that the proceeds go to cover the costs of illnesses attributed to tobacco smoke use, well....the government will be hard pressed to get the same amount of tax applied to e-cigs if and when they start to regulate them.

So, I have begun my stockpile with some DIY stuff. High concentrate nicotine, glycerin and flavorings, so I can make my own. Right now....I would say I have enough supplies either in my possession or on order to last me a couple years.

It's a sickness. I have got to stop ordering.

I don't know why I am worrying. After all, if a 10 year old can get crack at school, I should be able to get a supply of nicotine juice just as easily.

Here's hoping.

Chief of Staff UCLA Santa Monica, on electronic cigarettes.

Dr. David Baron

This is starting to get ridiculous.

Do they think we won't catch on? That the reason they are only doing 'high-risk' people is because they don't have enough vaccine produced as promised?

Since this all began we have had 1 regular vaccine clinic for one day. Then they decided to just do the 'high-risk' people. So since the first of the month it has been pregnant ladies and kids under 5. (Oh and First Nations) Checking out the website today, and they have added a few more sections of the population.

•Pregnant women
•Postpartum women including their partner
•Children younger than five (six to 59 months)
•Children 19 or younger with chronic medical conditions for which they receive regular medical attention, including morbid obesity
•First Nations communities

Okay, so they added baby daddies and fat kids. Big fuckin' deal.

They make it sound like they are actually expanding the clinics when in reality they know that the deadbeat dad's won't show up cuz they think it is a Family Court sting and the fat kids won't stand in line unless there is a Big Mac at the end of it.

Who are they tryin' to kid?

Everyone is effected.

I go to the doctors today to get my marching orders. More tests, or back to work? I had been trying to call all morning, but was unable to get through so I thought I would just go over and give her both sets of forms. She can fill out the ones she thinks are appropriate.

I walk in and my doctor is standing behind the desk. Sort of looking lost. She is usually in back and the receptionist (Rachel) filters us. But today she is just standing there, looking like she has forgotten what she was looking for.

"Oh, Eva...I have your test results somewhere here..."

"That's okay, I can just leave the forms?" She looked bewildered. "Where is Rachel?"

"In ICU with H1N1 and I don't even know who to call to fill in. The phone has been ringing off the hook."

After finding out how Rachel was doing, "Just leave it, let the phone ring, if it's an emergency they can go to the out-door (what we call the emergency room). I'll just leave these forms..you get to them when you can."

"No, I know I can find your file here somewhere..." She is scanning a wall of files. "Found it! Come on in."

She sort of seemed relieved that someone was there. "Uh, didn't you all get the vaccine?"

"Don't even get me started."

Apparently doctors and people who work in their offices are not high risk. Who the fuck determines this? I am not a rocket scientist but the people who come into contact with sick people all day, every day, have got to be high risk. Right? Again we all wonder who is in charge of this crap.

Anyway, after looking at my test results she is still concerned with my heart rate. So I think I will be looking at 6-8 weeks more of short term disability. More tests and specialists. I can do it financially, I have a great plan with my work.

Now if The Boy would just stop visiting me and cleaning out the cupboards before he leaves, I will be all set.

Wish me luck.

After a week of hacking up a lung every morning and using a puffer every night so I can breathe in my sleep, I have decided to give Champix a go again.

It did work before, took away the addiction but not the habit. Problem was, I tried it in the winter and I couldn't even get out of my own way. At least now I can leave the house if I want, even if it is just to sit outside on the deck.

Add to that the expense of smoking, I really can't afford to smoke any longer.

We will see how it goes this time.

Wish me luck.

I never felt more like an orphan.

We had some snow last week. Not much but a foot or so, wet and heavy. The kind that forms ice underneath. Well I was looking to order a pizza and knew that the delivery man would not come up the stairs unless they were cleared.

A dilemma, since I could not find my shovel. So out I go to clear the snow with just my feet and a hammer (for the inch of ice that is under it).

The pizza was not worth it. The next morning (around 4:30am) I am awakened by the call of nature. I roll over to get out of bed and the searing pain shoots up my spine.

I can't move, it is excruciating. I start to panic. I can't get out of bed and I don't have a phone nearby. What do I do? How long can I stay here before someone even notices that they haven't heard from me in a while? Work will call if I don't show up, but I still won't be able to get to the phone.

"I have to get out of this bed!"

After about half an hour I am finally in the bathroom. I do my business and am about to inch my way back to my bed, when it hits me. "What if I can't get out of bed the next time? What if I have to call an ambulance or something? I better take a shower while I am here." The whole 'clean underwear' thing your mamma warned you about.

An hour later I am fluffed and folded and back in bed with the cordless, the cell phone and my little laptop beside me. I have no real sense that I can recover from this injury since i have no drugs and I don't even have a hot water bottle to help ease the pain.

I look over and in the doorway are my two cats, Milo and Sammy.

They are just sitting there, side-by-side in the doorway, staring at me and I imagine the conversation between them.

MILO: "How long before you think we can start eating her face?"
SAMMY: "Dunno, lets just keep an eye on her."

At that point I start to really panic, I tried to call Nurse Darling, no answer. Bunnie has no car (it bought the farm the week before) The Boy is in school and my sister is 5 hours away in New Brunswick. I am completely alone in the world.

I am about to descend into complete despair when I think of something. I drag my laptop over and frantically email the only person I could think of, Tracey.

I cried like a baby when I saw her. She came to my rescue with a hot water bottle, some drugs and a hamburger. Because, well, everyone knows a Big Mac can cure cancer.

You really do find out who your friends are.

That is not how I roll.

This post at 'list of the day' got me thinking about what I would refuse to eat.

Bare in mind, I am a fat chick so the list is short. I can't say I agree with everything on Cary's will-not-eat list because unlike him I really don't over think food. Mostly because if it tastes really good, I would be extremely distressed to learn it was actually horse shit or bug barf.

I would still eat it...but I would be distressed.

However illogical that last statement makes this list. Here it is.

1. Milk. Ok, I don't actually never drink milk. However, I do it sparingly and I can count on one hand the number of times (besides cream in my coffee) that I have had milk (straight) in the past 10 years.

"Oh, milk is good for you." Who exactly decided this? You squeeze it out of the tits of cows, tits that are dangerously close to the part the shit comes out of. It's cow juice. If animal juice is so good for you, why not milk the cat? Cuz it's gross, that's why. Even though cats are way cleaner than cows. They only chose cows for the shear volume. There is no money in milking cats...the overhead would kill ya.

2. Head cheese. Dude, my father ate this stuff all the time. You don't have to taste it to know it is disgusting. I went with name recognition. I recognize that head cheese sounds gross. I refuse to go there.

3. Sushi - its raw fish. I shouldn't have to explain.

4. Oysters or mussels. Oysters I have never tried. I agree with Cary, they look like loogies. Mussels I have tried until I realized they look like vaginae, it's not how I roll. They were not tasty enough to cancel out the gross factor.

5. Tofu - I don't get it. I ain't eatin' it.

6. If I can recognize the location on the animal from which the meat has come from I will not eat it. Feet, ears, tails, tongue. YUCK!

7. Calamari - you can call it any fancy name you want, I ain't eating nothing with suckers. Scratch that, I am not eating anything that could potentially attack and eat or kill me.

8. If some rich person calls it a delicacy, forget it....not going there. Rich people are bored and most are idiots when it comes to culture. Show them a urinal nailed to a gallery wall and they will ooo and awe about the symbolism. (Dude, the symbolism is that the artist had to take a leak) But hey, if you can make money on the leftover shit that you can't sell to reasonable people (guts and eyeballs) then more power to ya, brother.

Weird or disgusting stuff I have eaten. (most when I was pregnant)
- peanut butter sandwiches dipped in chocolate pudding. (actually that was pretty good)
- peanut butter sandwiches with apple slices and/or bbq potato chips.
- pickled herring. It sounds weird, but it is really tasty. (Yes, I know its raw fish, I told you, there is no logic.)

What does your list look like?

Screw the environment!

I brought out the big guns, toxic chemicals.

I knew I could not live with getting those mofo's drunk and letting them pass out and pass on to that great fruit basket in the sky. I am much too bloodthirsty for that.

I am willing to spray this shit on my food if that is what it takes to rid myself of them.

I am all for poking another big ol' hole in the ozone.

I want them to eat shit, choke and die!

I hate to do this but...

I know what you're saying, "That looks like it hurts."

You would be putting it mildly, my friend. I am in real pain here.

This is so that when I post the pictures of the completed living room you will feel less inclined to say 'you missed a spot', now that you know what I had to endure to get 'er done.

I started getting this baby on Friday night, and it progressively got worse. This is it on Sunday afternoon as it was starting to get better, if you can believe it.

And it actually feels worse than it looks.

UPDATE: And the answer to your question is 'YES'.

It actually could get worse, and did.Had to go into the ER (we call it the out-door here) and get some antibiotics.



Caused quite a stir at 5:30 in the morning. It was slow, as you can imagine, I was the only person in there. After the first nurse saw me, I became a bit of a freak show, and heard things like, "You have got to see this one." Followed by an endless stream of nurses and orderlies.

You know you're in trouble when the doctor stops dead in his tracks and says, "Whoa!"

Why does looking and feeling good have to cost so much?

I don't know how many of you eat right, or stay in shape but if you do, how do you afford it?

It is so much cheaper to be a lazy fat chick. Between eating 'right' and exercising I am going to go broke.

Prices on so-called 'healthy' foods are retarded. When I was living on coffee and cigarettes, believe it or not, I had money left over at the end of the month. Now it's the complete opposite.

Thank God I don't have to feed The Boy during all this, or I would have to take a third job.

They wonder why obesity is on the rise among lower income families?

Who can afford to be skinny and still send their kids to college?

Arnie is acting up again.

Remember FTS? I get this pain in my side, more like a charlie-horse in my ribs.

More recently I have felt like it was more of (how do I describe it?) a feeling like there is something in there that shouldn't be. Like if I lean my back on a hard surface, I can feel this thing push toward the front of my body. Much like the feeling when I was pregnant and the boy would stretch his legs.

I have taken to calling it Arnie. Because, you know, it's 'not a tumor'. This does not amuse my nurse sister-in-law, Darling. She thinks I should have it looked at.

One problem. When I decide I am going to go have it checked, Arnie stays quiet and I forget he is there. He somehow knows I might be trying to get rid of him. Then a few weeks later, he starts up again.

What is really keeping me from having Arnie taken care of? What if it is a tumor? Do I want to know? You know it is always the way. The doctor will tell you that you have had it for 10 years or something retarded like that, but the second he says cancer, you die within the week.

Arnie ain't such a bad guy.

'Nice girls' don't put it in their mouthes.

SUZIE: "Licorice anyone? Evel?"
ME: "Naw, don't eat licorice."

SUZIE: "You don't like it?"
ME: "Can't swallow it." She gives me a quizzical look. "I have problems swallowing lots of things, pills, french fries, nuts..."

SUZIE: "You should have that checked?"
ME: "Have what checked?"

SUZIE: "Uh, the swallowing thing?"
ME: Deadpan."I'm a nice girl, I spit."

Give me a freakin' break.

Not a direct quote, I was listening but not really listening to a newscast.

"Exposing a child to smoke in a car for one hour is like giving them a pack of cigarettes?"

What retard said this? Apparently someone from the Lung Association.

I don't' know about you, but I can only smoke 4 cigarettes in an hour, but that would be one right after another.

So, supporters of this little bylaw are not so much concerned with the science of this whole thing, they just want a nice 'retarded' sound bite to feed the media.

Brain-dead bylaws.

Recently a local constituency added a bylaw making it illegal to smoke in your car with a person under the age of 18. Score one for the tree huggers? Nope, sorry. It's a pointless law, created to appease high profile anti-smoking groups. Lip service if you will.

Just like the law they passed making it illegal to sell cigarettes to persons under the age of 19. Businesses who are caught (and by the way they have lots of 17 year olds on the payroll that do nothing but try and entrap local smoke store owners) face huge fines. (Payable to the government) It is not, however, illegal for persons under the age of 18 to smoke. It's just illegal for someone to sell the cigarettes to them.

Look, if you don't want to smoke, don't smoke. If it bothers you I won't smoke around you. But don't tell me I can't smoke. I am a grown woman. The government is not on your side, if they were, they would ban tobacco, but they are not and they never will. The only thing you have on your side is propaganda, junk science and general bullshit! Get a life, or just fuck off somewhere.

Don't get me wrong. I realize that smoking is bad for me. I am not an idiot. I am breathing in a burning substance directly into my lungs. But they are my lungs, fuck off. I am also breathing in the exhaust from your car, the smoke from your chimney and your ghastly perfume. Drop dead. Just don't get me started on second hand smoke.

Oh but they are trying to protect the estimated 400,000 people who die prematurely each year in smoking related deaths. Bullshit! There is no credible data that says second hand smoke really does hurt people. There are, however, dozens of studies that say they couldn't prove it has any effect.

Smoking-Attributable Mortality, Morbidity, and Economic Costs Software, Release II (SAMMEC II) has been developed for the Office on Smoking and Health, Public Health Service, to permit rapid calculation of deaths, years of potential life lost, direct health-care costs, indirect mortality costs, and disability costs associated with cigarette smoking.

Sounds impressive, don't it? If you are going to quote this piece of software, you should really find out how they come up with their numbers.

Some interesting articles on the subject:

Blowing Smoke About Tobacco-Related Deaths Just look at the chart on this one. How is dying at 85+ years premature?
The Facts About Second Hand Smoke
The Blunders of SAMMEC (1) 400,000 Killed by Smoking!? This article is written by a retired mathematician, its a little dry but you can't dispute the numbers.
The BIG LIE That Smoking is an Economic Burden to Society
Name Three James Repace did supply three names. However, of the three he named, One could not be verified. One had been ruled against by a jury. One was rejected by a jury.
The EPA Report

Governments keep passing laws banning smoking here and banning smoking there, but if they were truly concerned with it, they would just ban tobacco.

Oh wait! They can't ban tobacco, they make too much money on it.

The wonders of being domestically challenged.

Sookie (not her real name) cooks for me.

Ok, so she doesn't actually cook for me, but she cooks a lot and I get the leftovers.

Everyone knows that I am 'domestically challenged', I don't cook. I microwave, I barbeque, but I don't cook. Sookie takes pity on me and when she cooks for the kids (5 grandkids) I get the leftovers. The other girls get their noses out of joint. "She never brings us dinner."

"Ya, well you can cook for yourselves.....I don't cook."

The other night I got roast beef, spicy chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh, and a lasagna.

Don't hate the player.

Drugs! Get your piping hot, free drugs here!

The reason I had gone to the doctor in the first place was to stock up on my blood pressure/cholesterol meds. With only one week left at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™, I had to act pretty quickly. Not an easy task to get to see a doctor within a week, but I did it.

Since it would be 3 months before my benefits would kick in at the Undisclosed Internet Service Provider™, I would have to pay full price for my meds while in training. Not acceptable since the meds are $27 per month with coverage and $116 per month without. That's a fucking car payment!

So I tell her my story, hoping she will write me a prescription for 90 pills instead of 30 when she comes out with, "So, you are looking for some samples?"

"Uh, okay."

She leaves and comes back with this:



Holy shit! Ten weeks of meds. That's $290 worth if you're counting.

"Will that do?"

Fuck ya....got any Vicodin back there? Being as how you're offering.

Note to self...

Never go see your doctor to have your blood pressure checked after running around doing errands in lunchtime traffic, drinking coffee and eating an entire bag of jelly beans.

And don't try and talk your way out of it.....She has an automated machine, 159 over 96.

The woman is very droll, "It is higher if you talk."

"Ok, I will shut up now." It didn't help. I failed the test

Just for that I get blood tests, pelvic exam and a mammogram next time. (Looking forward to having my tit pop liked a zit when the hydraulics malfunction.)

The bitch is not playin'.

Wading in the shallow end of the gene pool.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Technical Support Team™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"I am trying to put a vertical line in my document and I can't do it."

"Ok, just click on INSERT then SHAPE and you will see an icon that when you roll your mouse over it will say LINE."

"Ya, but that one is diagonal." Are you kidding me?

"Uh, only if you make it diagonal. It's a straight line tool...you can make it go any way you like."

"For real?" Give me strength.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Technical Support Team™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"My son was messing around with the computer and when I opened LookOut Quick, it asked me if I wanted it as my default. I thought that was a weird thing to ask, I of course said yes. Now all my email are gone! All of them!"

"Are you sure you were using LookOut Quick before?"

"Ya,"

"Positive? Not LookOut?"

"Absolutely." After ten minutes of back and forth, me asking another way and her swearing up and down that she uses LookOut Quick, she finally yells to her husband.

"Honey? What email do we use?"

He yells back, "LookOut." She is silent.

I pretend I didn't hear him. "Just for fun lets open LookOut."

She clicks on it, "Ok, but I am sure I use LookOut Quick but..." Then I hear her singing, "Hal-le-lu-jah, Hal-le-lu-jah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hal-le-eh-lujah!" and she doesn't stop till she finishes.

"So, all your email is there?"

"Ya, now I have to go apologize to my son."

And another thing...

My friend Bunnie is vacationing on D'Nile.

"My doctor put me on two new medications, TWO!"

"Why?"

"My sugar is way up, [insert whiney voice here] He told me I have to give up sugar. But I told him [and here] it's summer, there is ice cream [yup, here too] and ice cold pepsi..." I zone out at that point. He is clearly being unreasonable, demanding that she give up the very things that make her most happy.

"Bunnie, he isn't doing it just to be mean. It's called diabetes. It's not personal."

She looks at me like Hammy from Over the Hedge as if to say, "But I love the cookie!"