Tongue In Check

Ladies and gentlemen, you know how they say that immitation is the sincerest form of flattery? Well, that may be true, but in my case,  I just need to pay tribute to someone elses shtick. Actually, this may be more a case of shtick envy than it is paying tribute, but anyway, you get the point.

So without further ado, I would like to tip my hat to the man behind the curtain, Joey Polanski, as I steal his “Buddies, please don’t confuse ‘em” shtick.

Tennessee Williams

Tennessee Ernie Ford

One smokes a pipe and the other smokes a pole.

Of course if I would have  made that pole a “Pole,” this might have been a whole different kind of tribute. Heh, heh.

Can someone explain twitter to me because right now I don’t fucking get it?

Oh, and while we are on the subject, is there a point to Facebook? I have a facebook account and it seems okay, but blogging sure used to be a lot more fun.

My wife is back in Michigan for a week and I am here alone. Now that I don’t drink anymore, being left alone someplace is not as much fun as it used to be. I mean it used to be that as sooon as my wife’s car was out of the driveway, I was snorting lighter fluid and drinking Woolite. Nowadays, I just kind of stare at the walls and count the days until she gets back.

Sucks, don’t it?

Texas seems to suit Carmen just fine. Anne takes her for walks daily and Carmen seems to love the walks. I would have never guessed it.

If I was a woman, I would be a total lesbian.

I hate thinking up titles for blog posts. It used to be easier, but like everything else except for my weiner, coming up with a post title seems to be getting harder.  I think I am just going to start taking the last sentence from the last comment from the previous post for a title for each  new post.

For example, the last sentence of the last comment (from someone other than me) from the previous post was:

“just making a quick blog-round today at work”

I’m hungry.

Look, you guys know me. I’m no hater.

I mean I do my best to treat everyone fairly and I never ever stereotype.¹  Of course you know that.

But the other day, something dawned on me. See,  I read this news article about how Stephen Hawking was ill and something dawned on me.

If he died, how would we know for sure? I mean for all I know, someone could prop his eyes open and talk in that funny computer voice…

The. Universe. Is. Made. Up. Of. Many. Many. Stars.

No. I. Am. Not. Dead.

Trust. Me.

I. Am. Gumby. Dammit.

Sorry, but these are just things I need to know.

¹ Of course, this is a total fucking lie.

Totally random and completely unrelated Hot Chick Picture Ahead:

Okay, I admit that I have talked a lot about cancer of the last year, and I am going to try to stop talking about it for a while, but there is just something I need to say before I go.

Cancer, whether you want it to or not, consumes you.  You never get far away from it no matter what you do or where you go. You will never trust your own body again as long as you live.  Every odd pain or twitch or feeling anywhere in your body can be a cause for concern.

At the very least, it is exhausting. At its very worst, it will kill you.

Over the course of the last few weeks, I have been undergoing my yearly check up. Here are the results:

Blood Pressure=A disaster. Upping my meds

Cholesterol=A disaster. We are waiting for them to up my meds.

Blood work (otherwise)=Excellent.

Final results:

Me 1

Cancer o

I had to go down to the MD Anderson cancer center in Houston last night for a CT scan and chest x-ray (yeah, they are looking everywhere). Sitting in that room waiting for my CT scan reminded me of just how bad it could be. There were people with tubes coming out of every part of their bodies. There were baggy clothes and hats covering bald heads and yellow skin and sad faces.

It’s so easy for me to forget how lucky I am.

When they were trying to stick an IV in my arm for the Iodine contrast die for the CT scan, they were having a hard time finding a vein. The nurse looked at me and said “Is that from the chemo.”

I froze with some combination of fear, anger, dread and irritation and said…”I didn’t have chemo” only I kind of hissed it under my breath as if she had just insulted me.  I glanced around the room at all the carnage sitting before me and thought to myself fuck, I could never do this.

Anyway, it’s done. I was driving back from Houston today in a blinding rainstorm like none I have ever seen and the doctor was on the phone with my wife back at my apartment telling her that based on the blood work and the CT scans, it looks like I never had cancer at all. I walked in the door, my wife told me and I involuntarily said “thank God.” At this point, I don’t who else to thank.

I know that eventually I am going to have to pay the piper for treating my body like a tent, but apparently, it won’t be today.

…..is the one year anniversary of me parting ways with my evil cancerous kidney.

The temptation to go out and get a big red 1 tattooed on my arm is almost more than I can take, but somehow I get the feeling that that might be tempting fate.

Sometimes when I think back to that day and the days leading up to it, it is damned hard to believe that I am still here.  It’s even harder to believe all the changes that have happened in the year since then.

I admit to waxing trite on more than one occasion on here and I assure you that today will not be an exception. I got in my truck this morning and the following song was playing and I couldn’t help but be struck by the irony of the words with regard to the last year of my life.

For those of you who would rather not “do” the video, I offer up the following:

I took off for a weekend last month
Just to try and recall the whole year
All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin where they all disappeared
I didnt ponder the question too long
I was hungry and went out for a bite
Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum
And we wound up drinkin all night

Chorus:
Its these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
If we couldnt laugh we would all go insane

Reading departure signs in some big airport
Reminds me of the places Ive been
Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure
Makes me want to go back again
If it suddenly ended tomorrow
I could somehow adjust to the fall
Good times and riches and son of a bitches
Ive seen more than I can recall

Chorus:
These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldnt laugh we would all go insane

I think about paris when Im high on red wine
I wish I could jump on a plane
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailin again
Oh, yesterdays over my shoulder
So I cant look back for too long
Theres just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just cant go wrong

Chorus:
With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldnt laugh I just would go insane
If we couldnt laugh we just would go insane
If we werent all crazy we would go insane

I can’t tell you how happy I am to be alive right here and right now, but there are so many nights when I think of how it used to be.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.

Dear Europe,

I am willing to accept that this may not be appropriate attire for modern man from the standpoint of certain Europeans……

However, in order to move forward, Europeans are going to  need to accept that this is equally not  acceptable attire….

I mean honestly, if I want to see men in Capri pants, I am going to  start going to Moooooog’s blog more often.

I think Nellie Furtado has something to say about all of this.  ( I know, there are probably  mispelled words, but I have no built in  spell check on here and I am not in the mood to  fix it yet).

Flying back to America tomorrow…..without my Capri pants.

“

\

…..I am sitting in an English Pub in England no less drinking a German beer listening to an American tune thinking about Bombay Saphire when an Irish woman walks up to me and says….

“You’re an American, aren’t you?”

Only she doesn’t say it like that, she says it like if I don’t answer the question correctly she will expose my ancestral lineage for what it is and then blow me up..

She flicks the curly hair from her face,  takes another drag from that cigarette and I say…

“Yes, I am…”

Because what else am I going to say becuase she probably thinks I’ve got “I AM A FUCKING IMPERIALIST” written all across my forehead.

“Got a light?” she asks as she shoves the business end of another cigarette in her mouth.

“No, I don’t smoke” I answer as I think to myself that I would lick the nicotine out fo her mouth if I wasn’t married and still smoked.

Okay, I lied.

If I still smoked, I would probably lick the nicotine out of her mouth anyway, but I don’t smoke.

She walks away and I think to myself……..

And then I get in the car and the driver says how was your evening sir, only he says it real  fancy like. Not at all like an American and I think  there should be horsemen and I say to him….

“Soho.”

And he says,

“Parden me, sir.”

And I say, “Soho. Rainy Night in Soho…..”

And he says, “I’m not sure. I didn’s see the weather report. Would you like to go home now sir?”

And then it dawns on me…yeah, you’re the measure of my dreams……