Could you feel the excitement in the air last night as Shit-For-Brains delivered what we can only hope will be his last State of the Union (SOTU) address?
I know I could. The only thing that would've helped deaden the pain more than stuffing my face with junk food during the ordeal would've been to have gotten shit-faced drunk prior to the freak show from the floor of the House -- except that I've sworn off pain avoidance in that fashion.
One year from now somebody, ANYBODY, will be delivering a state of the union address. And maybe it'll be just as full of gas and shit as last night's speech was (admittedly a hard act to follow given the number of misrepresentations and outright falsehoods in Georgie's speech last night -- check out the numerous articles regarding "fact checking" on his speech last night -- you'll find lots of them on the websites of various real newspapers).
But at least next year's speech won't be delivered by the worst President in our glorious nation's paltry little history.
Say "Amen" and thank you, Jeebus!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
The Glam Factor
Didja watch the SAGgies last night? I did because a) I'm a member and b) there wasn't anything else on.
I was going to try to catch up with my "For Your Consideration" viewing of all the contending films, but I got hopelessly behind and gave up for the time being. Since I don't have to return the "screeners" I can view them at my leisure. They are somewhat annoying, though. Every few minutes you get a superimposed message that this dvd is "for your consideration" and remains the property of whatever production company happens to own the film.
Still, the price is right. Free. It saves me from plunking down real money to see some films ("Hairspray") I really don't want to waste money on seeing. Oh, and don't get me wrong about Hairspray. But I saw the original John Waters' film, way back when and I saw the Broadway show a few years back. I have zero interest in seeing it (again) on film.
But it didn't matter if I'd seen the films or not. What I really wanted was my mid-winter dose of glamour, something that's been sorely missing from my steady diet of cold and darkness this winter. I needed glitz, tinsel, red carpets and bad fashion decisions to brighten up a Sunday evening. And the SAG awards did not disappoint.
I love Charles Durning but would it have killed them to put a ramp up to the stage to save the poor old SOB from having to climb up the stairs? Jeebus, I thought he would fall and kill himself.
Everybody else were either modest to the point of self-effacement (Javier Bardem) or over-the-top in love with themselves (Josh Brolin). Mostly, though, the winners were damn glad they were the winners and too bad for the losers.
The best part of last night? it was mercifully brief and unusually lacking in the sort of self-aggrandizing bullshit that the Oscars indulge in ("Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to the most self-important night of the year in Hollyweird... Oscar Night.")
I love my parent union and my fellow 119,999 members.
My name is JoyZeeBoy and I am an actor (SAG member since 1981).
I was going to try to catch up with my "For Your Consideration" viewing of all the contending films, but I got hopelessly behind and gave up for the time being. Since I don't have to return the "screeners" I can view them at my leisure. They are somewhat annoying, though. Every few minutes you get a superimposed message that this dvd is "for your consideration" and remains the property of whatever production company happens to own the film.
Still, the price is right. Free. It saves me from plunking down real money to see some films ("Hairspray") I really don't want to waste money on seeing. Oh, and don't get me wrong about Hairspray. But I saw the original John Waters' film, way back when and I saw the Broadway show a few years back. I have zero interest in seeing it (again) on film.
But it didn't matter if I'd seen the films or not. What I really wanted was my mid-winter dose of glamour, something that's been sorely missing from my steady diet of cold and darkness this winter. I needed glitz, tinsel, red carpets and bad fashion decisions to brighten up a Sunday evening. And the SAG awards did not disappoint.
I love Charles Durning but would it have killed them to put a ramp up to the stage to save the poor old SOB from having to climb up the stairs? Jeebus, I thought he would fall and kill himself.
Everybody else were either modest to the point of self-effacement (Javier Bardem) or over-the-top in love with themselves (Josh Brolin). Mostly, though, the winners were damn glad they were the winners and too bad for the losers.
The best part of last night? it was mercifully brief and unusually lacking in the sort of self-aggrandizing bullshit that the Oscars indulge in ("Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to the most self-important night of the year in Hollyweird... Oscar Night.")
I love my parent union and my fellow 119,999 members.
My name is JoyZeeBoy and I am an actor (SAG member since 1981).
Friday, January 25, 2008
Heath Ledger is Still Deceased.
Don't you love mass media in this country? There's an election in the making, an election of monumental import and yet the dominant news items seem to revolve around the unfortunate, untimely, wasteful and sorrowful death of an amazing young actor whose work I have long admired.
As bad as it's been, between Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollyweird, the real freak show will begin as soon as the scary assholes from Fred Phelps' Church of We Hate Fags (or whatever it's called) show up and try to picket Frank Campbell's funeral home up on Madison Avenue.
If they actually have the nerve to come they will find out exactly how tender the New York City Police Department can be as their sorry asses get summarily thrown into the backs of Paddy Wagons and hauled downtown to The Tombs, where they can rot for a few days in cells full of crack addicts, serial killers, and tranny hos until until some judge is given the greenlight by the Mayor to spring them, long after the funeral and on 100 bajillion dollars bond. If they can raise it.
Google also had some fun with this subject. Up until yesterday, in their "on-line language translation" function, if you typed in "Heath Ledger is dead" and asked for a translation into Spanish, it came out "Tom Cruise esto muerto." It no longer works, so they must've fired the programmer who originally did it. I liked it.
Yet again, a whole cottage industry of death has sprung up around a sad event. Just like Anna Nicole a year ago.
We are a sick nation. No wonder we're all fat, lazy, depressed, overtreated, overmedicated and overwrought.
Let the young man rest in peace and let us start to ponder the significance of choosing wisely in the upcoming presidential elections.
It's time to right some egregious wrongs.
As bad as it's been, between Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollyweird, the real freak show will begin as soon as the scary assholes from Fred Phelps' Church of We Hate Fags (or whatever it's called) show up and try to picket Frank Campbell's funeral home up on Madison Avenue.
If they actually have the nerve to come they will find out exactly how tender the New York City Police Department can be as their sorry asses get summarily thrown into the backs of Paddy Wagons and hauled downtown to The Tombs, where they can rot for a few days in cells full of crack addicts, serial killers, and tranny hos until until some judge is given the greenlight by the Mayor to spring them, long after the funeral and on 100 bajillion dollars bond. If they can raise it.
Google also had some fun with this subject. Up until yesterday, in their "on-line language translation" function, if you typed in "Heath Ledger is dead" and asked for a translation into Spanish, it came out "Tom Cruise esto muerto." It no longer works, so they must've fired the programmer who originally did it. I liked it.
Yet again, a whole cottage industry of death has sprung up around a sad event. Just like Anna Nicole a year ago.
We are a sick nation. No wonder we're all fat, lazy, depressed, overtreated, overmedicated and overwrought.
Let the young man rest in peace and let us start to ponder the significance of choosing wisely in the upcoming presidential elections.
It's time to right some egregious wrongs.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
A Cure for Diabetes?
Much to my amazement the NYTimes ran an extensive page one article yesterday regarding a piece in the Journal of the American Medical Association about a study conducted by Australian researchers in which a number of Type II diabetics (like me) had been re-converted to a pre-diabetic state by using gastric bypass or banding surgery.
The figures cited were astonishing. People who are completely unable to shed a pound despite diet, exercise and drugs (like me -- I tried the Byetta injections for six months, to no avail, live on salads and hang out at the gym way too often for my tastes) were able to lose up to 20.7 percent of their total weight, often within weeks of the surgery (that is for the adjustable band method). People who had full blown gastric bypass surgeries had even more astonishing results in achieving complete remission of the disease, often in a matter of days, (according to the Times ) "apparently because the operation causes metabolic changes that lower blood glucose levels beyond what weight loss alone can accomplish."
For the Times to run such an article was amazing. What's even more amazing was the appearance of an editorial in today's edition, urging the medical community to get cracking on looking into and using the surgical "cure" for diabetes ASAP.
I might even learn to forgive the Times for hiring Bill Kristol (neocon asswipe) to replace Bill Safire.
The figures cited were astonishing. People who are completely unable to shed a pound despite diet, exercise and drugs (like me -- I tried the Byetta injections for six months, to no avail, live on salads and hang out at the gym way too often for my tastes) were able to lose up to 20.7 percent of their total weight, often within weeks of the surgery (that is for the adjustable band method). People who had full blown gastric bypass surgeries had even more astonishing results in achieving complete remission of the disease, often in a matter of days, (according to the Times ) "apparently because the operation causes metabolic changes that lower blood glucose levels beyond what weight loss alone can accomplish."
For the Times to run such an article was amazing. What's even more amazing was the appearance of an editorial in today's edition, urging the medical community to get cracking on looking into and using the surgical "cure" for diabetes ASAP.
I might even learn to forgive the Times for hiring Bill Kristol (neocon asswipe) to replace Bill Safire.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
George W. Bush - Heretic
Is George W. Bush the last person on earth to know that he's a heretic. A heretic being defined as:
"...claiming this or that thing is true about or is done by God."
He has claimed, allowed others to claim and/or personally believes that he was chosen (anointed) by God to lead our country.
None of us knows Gods plans or intentions. Ever. Not you, not me and not Frat Boy George. Any claims to the contrary are heretical.
It also reeks of that old heretical belief in "The Divine Right Of Kings" to govern the people they have been born into the royal family of, and that God chooses absolute monarchs, willy-nilly, based solely on dumb-luck and genetics.
Somebody should remind George that nobody died and named him King... and that 230 years ago we fought a bloody war to extract ourselves from that sort of insane subservience to an earthly power, embodied in one Royal Personage, in a capital city far, far away.
We got rid of that George through horrific violence.
Now our King George's Magical Kingdom is falling apart at the seams. His wars in far off countries have netted us nothing but mountains of corpses and astronomical debt which can never be settled with the foreigners who have loaned the money to us, an economy that's collapsing around his ears (and ours), jobs that have disappeared for eternity to offshore lands in order to prop up the corporate profits of his owners here at home.
Not one single thing has he accomplished, aside from making his personal cronies richer.
Thousands of young Americans are dead because of him and his self-will run riot.
Despite the appearance of nothing but gloom on the horizon, there is a glimmer of hope.
A year from now he will no longer be King George.
He will most likely return to his former role as the drunken Village Idiot.
"...claiming this or that thing is true about or is done by God."
He has claimed, allowed others to claim and/or personally believes that he was chosen (anointed) by God to lead our country.
None of us knows Gods plans or intentions. Ever. Not you, not me and not Frat Boy George. Any claims to the contrary are heretical.
It also reeks of that old heretical belief in "The Divine Right Of Kings" to govern the people they have been born into the royal family of, and that God chooses absolute monarchs, willy-nilly, based solely on dumb-luck and genetics.
Somebody should remind George that nobody died and named him King... and that 230 years ago we fought a bloody war to extract ourselves from that sort of insane subservience to an earthly power, embodied in one Royal Personage, in a capital city far, far away.
We got rid of that George through horrific violence.
Now our King George's Magical Kingdom is falling apart at the seams. His wars in far off countries have netted us nothing but mountains of corpses and astronomical debt which can never be settled with the foreigners who have loaned the money to us, an economy that's collapsing around his ears (and ours), jobs that have disappeared for eternity to offshore lands in order to prop up the corporate profits of his owners here at home.
Not one single thing has he accomplished, aside from making his personal cronies richer.
Thousands of young Americans are dead because of him and his self-will run riot.
Despite the appearance of nothing but gloom on the horizon, there is a glimmer of hope.
A year from now he will no longer be King George.
He will most likely return to his former role as the drunken Village Idiot.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
For Your Consideration
I got back from Florida on Sunday.
I love my dad and stepmom. It saddens me to witness the deterioration they are experiencing. When I arrived at RSW in Ft. Myers last Thursday the folks had driven out to the airport to meet me. Dad apparently had gone to park the car and sent mom in to find me. She found me, alright, but then couldn't remember where she had left Dad. We wandered around for what seemed hours. I asked her repeatedly if she had come down from another level. She couldn't remember.
Eventually we spotted Dad driving around and hailed him to pull over. Later I gently suggested to dad that they both get cellphones and learn how to use them and always carry them.
Physically, though, mom's in pretty good shape. It's dad that's physically falling apart. It takes him 2 or 3 minutes just to haul himself out of a chair. He's in pain. A lot. But he sucks it up and acts like everything is fine. Now I know where I get it.
Don't let anybody kid you. It's just as much nature as nurture. I didn't even know my dad until I was an adult. And yet still we have much in common, aside from good looks and our full heads of hair.
Every day was Groundhog Day, with morning discussions about where we were going to have lunch that day. We'd leave around 12:30. We'd be home by 3:00. I learned to love watching "Monk" on USA. I'd never seen it before. I channel-surfed a lot and went to a 12-Step meeting every day. Dad was very generous to me with the use of his big-assed Chevy van.
The trip back to the airport on Sunday was about as bad as the trip on Thursday. This time Dad totally missed the exit for the "Departures" deck and headed into the lower-level "Arrivals" area, instead. And despite my repeated requests for him to stop near the escalator up to the check-in level he drove to the last baggage carrel for Jet Blue. Where I had arrived on Thursday. Despite my sprained ankle I schlepped my baggage back for half a terminal and lugged it upstairs (the escalator wasn't working) to check-in.
I've never been so grateful to leave Florida.
When I got home there were beaucoups envelopes from the Screen Actors Guild containing "screening copies" of DVD's of most of the films up for SAG awards. I'd already seen most of them, but there were a few I haven't seen yet. I plan to watch them this week.
My friends are pea-green with envy that I get "screeners." I assured them that this isn't like being a Member of the Academy (AMPAS), and that I won't be in aisle 3, with my own seat-filler, when the SAG awards are broadcast this coming Sunday, the 27th.
Still, it was kind of exciting to see the envelope stuffers that all began:
"For Your Consideration"
But then, there seems to be no end of things for me to "consider" these days. Most of which isn't good.
I love my dad and stepmom. It saddens me to witness the deterioration they are experiencing. When I arrived at RSW in Ft. Myers last Thursday the folks had driven out to the airport to meet me. Dad apparently had gone to park the car and sent mom in to find me. She found me, alright, but then couldn't remember where she had left Dad. We wandered around for what seemed hours. I asked her repeatedly if she had come down from another level. She couldn't remember.
Eventually we spotted Dad driving around and hailed him to pull over. Later I gently suggested to dad that they both get cellphones and learn how to use them and always carry them.
Physically, though, mom's in pretty good shape. It's dad that's physically falling apart. It takes him 2 or 3 minutes just to haul himself out of a chair. He's in pain. A lot. But he sucks it up and acts like everything is fine. Now I know where I get it.
Don't let anybody kid you. It's just as much nature as nurture. I didn't even know my dad until I was an adult. And yet still we have much in common, aside from good looks and our full heads of hair.
Every day was Groundhog Day, with morning discussions about where we were going to have lunch that day. We'd leave around 12:30. We'd be home by 3:00. I learned to love watching "Monk" on USA. I'd never seen it before. I channel-surfed a lot and went to a 12-Step meeting every day. Dad was very generous to me with the use of his big-assed Chevy van.
The trip back to the airport on Sunday was about as bad as the trip on Thursday. This time Dad totally missed the exit for the "Departures" deck and headed into the lower-level "Arrivals" area, instead. And despite my repeated requests for him to stop near the escalator up to the check-in level he drove to the last baggage carrel for Jet Blue. Where I had arrived on Thursday. Despite my sprained ankle I schlepped my baggage back for half a terminal and lugged it upstairs (the escalator wasn't working) to check-in.
I've never been so grateful to leave Florida.
When I got home there were beaucoups envelopes from the Screen Actors Guild containing "screening copies" of DVD's of most of the films up for SAG awards. I'd already seen most of them, but there were a few I haven't seen yet. I plan to watch them this week.
My friends are pea-green with envy that I get "screeners." I assured them that this isn't like being a Member of the Academy (AMPAS), and that I won't be in aisle 3, with my own seat-filler, when the SAG awards are broadcast this coming Sunday, the 27th.
Still, it was kind of exciting to see the envelope stuffers that all began:
"For Your Consideration"
But then, there seems to be no end of things for me to "consider" these days. Most of which isn't good.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
16 Hours to Liftoff
For reasons even I do not fully understand I booked myself on a 7:45 a.m. flight from Newark to Ft. Myers tomorrow morning. According to my boarding pass, I have to be at the gate by 7:15 a.m.
Since I've already "checked in", including my baggage which I must merely physically drop off at the TSA inspection point before heading through security, and have gotten an Emergency Exit row seat next to the window (lots o'leg room on Jet Blue) there's nothing left to do except to rise at 5:00 a.m. in order to drop the car off at the off-airport parking area by 6:00 and take the shuttle over to the Jet Blue terminal.
Once I clear security ("please remove your shoes, butt-plugs, cock-rings and nipple-piercings") I'll spring for a high-fat, high-cholesterol "McBreakfast" at the sign of the Golden Hardened Arteries while waiting for the boarding call.
I've pre-programmed, re-charged and updated the software in my iPod. I've found the noise-cancelling headsets and connectors. I've gotten a couple of novels and saved last Sunday's NYTimes magazine and crossword puzzle. In short, I'm loaded for totally ignoring everyone else on the plane.
With any luck we'll outrace the weather south and arrive in Sunny Ft. Myers around 11:30 a.m.
I'll worry about what happens after that when we get to that point.
Because mom hogs the one and only pc (with DIAL-UP access) it's unlikely I'll be doing anything other than checking my email now and then.
So, until next week (probably), stay cool/warm/dry or whatever it is you want and fer goshshakes DON'T BEHAVE!
oooxxx
JZB
Since I've already "checked in", including my baggage which I must merely physically drop off at the TSA inspection point before heading through security, and have gotten an Emergency Exit row seat next to the window (lots o'leg room on Jet Blue) there's nothing left to do except to rise at 5:00 a.m. in order to drop the car off at the off-airport parking area by 6:00 and take the shuttle over to the Jet Blue terminal.
Once I clear security ("please remove your shoes, butt-plugs, cock-rings and nipple-piercings") I'll spring for a high-fat, high-cholesterol "McBreakfast" at the sign of the Golden Hardened Arteries while waiting for the boarding call.
I've pre-programmed, re-charged and updated the software in my iPod. I've found the noise-cancelling headsets and connectors. I've gotten a couple of novels and saved last Sunday's NYTimes magazine and crossword puzzle. In short, I'm loaded for totally ignoring everyone else on the plane.
With any luck we'll outrace the weather south and arrive in Sunny Ft. Myers around 11:30 a.m.
I'll worry about what happens after that when we get to that point.
Because mom hogs the one and only pc (with DIAL-UP access) it's unlikely I'll be doing anything other than checking my email now and then.
So, until next week (probably), stay cool/warm/dry or whatever it is you want and fer goshshakes DON'T BEHAVE!
oooxxx
JZB
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Wild (Black and) Blue Yonder!
Yup, that's me. Last Thursday morning, nearly a week after the accident. Notice the left eye (on the right) which is still swollen shut. This is just before the doctor removed the stitches. I still look like Baron Von Frankenstein's high-school science project. I look slightly better than that now.A friend is flying from Newark to Cleveland this afternoon. He travels about as well as Southwest champagne, which is to say not well at all.
Like many American travelers he's convinced that if you worry hard enough in advance the plane won't crash.
I'm not much help when I reassure him that all the worry in the world will NOT keep a plane aloft. I know. I flew in the Navy for 4 years. Believe me, it takes talent to crash a plane (or a dedicated religious fanatic).
He'll be fine, of course, because even religious fanatics have no desire to enter Allah's Kingdom via Cleveland.
I, on the other hand, might not fare as well on Thursday when I wing my way from Newark (EWR) to Ft. Myers (RSW) for 72 hours of non-stop thrills and spills with mom and dad.
It would be cruel of me to ask God to send along a religious fanatic on the same flight. After all, none of the other people are going to visit my mom and dad. I'm sure all their moms and dads are just swell.
Actually, mom and dad are okay. I didn't know them until I was well into my 30's (I mean really know them -- long story but my birth mom was an alkie bitch with issues and I wasn't supposed to have contact with my dad and his new family... ever).
But they are getting quite old and quite set in their ways. I have a pretty good idea of how it will go. They'll be excited to see me for about 10 minutes. Then we'll get the early bird special someplace and head back to the house in order to get that all important "afternoon nap." This will be followed by dad wandering down to the clubhouse to hang out with his cronies and play pool while mom disappears into the computer room.
I'll be the unspoken of thing in the living room.
Friday morning I'll steal the family van and sneak off to a 12-Step meeting. The rest of the day will be an eerie recreation of the previous day.
On Saturday it will be more of the same except I will sneak off at the God awful hour of 7:00 p.m. to go to a LGBT 12-Step meeting at the MCC in Ft. Myers. I'll be living large that night.
On Sunday, God willing, I'll be on a plane by noon heading back north.
I love them. I know they love me. Age is taking it's toll on everybody I love, including me.
It's time to make every moment count. At last.
Go hug somebody you love. You both deserve it. It'll take you places. And you won't even need a plane to get there.
p.s. I haven't had the nerve to tell the folks what happened to me. I guess they're gonna crap themselves when I come walking off that plane.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Boring Old JoyZeeBoy
Oh, I could lie and say to you that I haven't blogged in forever because I didn't have anything to talk about, but that would be inaccurate.
A week ago last Friday I fell in the tub (the non-slip tub mat went one way and I went the other, face down, into the side of the tub). I gashed open my forehead pretty badly. The blood started flowing (spurting) immediately. I felt numb. I felt pain. I was alone and in deep shit.
I thought "Okay, don't panic. Stop the blood" and so I grabbed a washcloth and jammed it to my forehead. The left eye-lid almost immediately swelled up and slammed shut, but I could still see (sort of) out of my right eye. I managed to get out of the tub and pat myself dry. I went to the bedroom and started calling people in the area. I couldn't get hold of anyone. I was getting more scared. I got dressed (with one hand, the other was still holding the washcloth to my forehead). Finally, I became rational enough to call 911. The ambulance came pretty quickly, along with a local cop.
The ride to the hospital went quickly and they whizzed me into the ER where I was quickly examined by the triage nurse. It was a slow morning, thank God. The blood had stopped by now but the doctor decided to re-open the wound in order to do a good job of cleaning it and stitching it up. She put in about 20 stitches. While doing that she ordered up a CAT scan of my head to make sure there was nothing in there (there isn't). By now a very dear friend of mine had shown up to be with me (and he was -- he's a very good friend) and, upon discharge from the ER, around 10:30, he took me to the opthalmologist the ER had arranged for me to see.
The eye doc was jammed and we had to wait awhile. The other patients all looked nervously my way until they realized I was staring back at them, upon which they buried their noses in magazines. I must've been a pretty scary sight, even though they'd cleaned me up at the hospital. They didn't cover any of the damaged areas, and by now my left eyelist had swollen to the size of a half an orange.
The doc finally saw me, lifted the lid and looked underneath, shone lights into both eyes, had me look up, down, sideways, etc., dilated the eye and then we did it all again. He pronounced my eye safe and said that the bones surrounding it "had done their jobs" and kept it protected during my fall.
On the way home we stopped to get a prescription for some antibiotics filled and, finally, I was home by 3:45 p.m.
Luckily the downstairs neighbhors offered to help and I took them up on it. The picked up some Chinese for me that night (I was starving by now, not having eaten all day) and the next day took me on a shopping expedition to drop off laundry and dry-cleaning with several quick trips to Target and the Super-Fresh.
I spend the entire week at home, bored out of my mind.
I did watch the entire season 3 DVD collection of "Lost" so I'm caught up on that.
On Thursday I got the stitches removed, my left eyelid had moved up to merely "half-mast" and the cardiac doctor pronounced my ticker good for "another half million miles." He also put my mind at ease about the swollen broken toe and the eyelid.
During all this time I just didn't have the oomph to post anything. I felt foolish for having fallen and, aside from that and the NH vote, there wasn't much to talk about.
The bottom, though, came last night, when I realized that there weren't going to be any Golden Globes awards show.
Now THAT was depressing.
Mom and dad are gonna crap themselves when I step off that plane in Ft. Myers this coming Thursday. I still haven't told them what happened to me -- and right now I look like I was in a barroom brawl!
This sort of thing never happened to me when I was drunk.
A week ago last Friday I fell in the tub (the non-slip tub mat went one way and I went the other, face down, into the side of the tub). I gashed open my forehead pretty badly. The blood started flowing (spurting) immediately. I felt numb. I felt pain. I was alone and in deep shit.
I thought "Okay, don't panic. Stop the blood" and so I grabbed a washcloth and jammed it to my forehead. The left eye-lid almost immediately swelled up and slammed shut, but I could still see (sort of) out of my right eye. I managed to get out of the tub and pat myself dry. I went to the bedroom and started calling people in the area. I couldn't get hold of anyone. I was getting more scared. I got dressed (with one hand, the other was still holding the washcloth to my forehead). Finally, I became rational enough to call 911. The ambulance came pretty quickly, along with a local cop.
The ride to the hospital went quickly and they whizzed me into the ER where I was quickly examined by the triage nurse. It was a slow morning, thank God. The blood had stopped by now but the doctor decided to re-open the wound in order to do a good job of cleaning it and stitching it up. She put in about 20 stitches. While doing that she ordered up a CAT scan of my head to make sure there was nothing in there (there isn't). By now a very dear friend of mine had shown up to be with me (and he was -- he's a very good friend) and, upon discharge from the ER, around 10:30, he took me to the opthalmologist the ER had arranged for me to see.
The eye doc was jammed and we had to wait awhile. The other patients all looked nervously my way until they realized I was staring back at them, upon which they buried their noses in magazines. I must've been a pretty scary sight, even though they'd cleaned me up at the hospital. They didn't cover any of the damaged areas, and by now my left eyelist had swollen to the size of a half an orange.
The doc finally saw me, lifted the lid and looked underneath, shone lights into both eyes, had me look up, down, sideways, etc., dilated the eye and then we did it all again. He pronounced my eye safe and said that the bones surrounding it "had done their jobs" and kept it protected during my fall.
On the way home we stopped to get a prescription for some antibiotics filled and, finally, I was home by 3:45 p.m.
Luckily the downstairs neighbhors offered to help and I took them up on it. The picked up some Chinese for me that night (I was starving by now, not having eaten all day) and the next day took me on a shopping expedition to drop off laundry and dry-cleaning with several quick trips to Target and the Super-Fresh.
I spend the entire week at home, bored out of my mind.
I did watch the entire season 3 DVD collection of "Lost" so I'm caught up on that.
On Thursday I got the stitches removed, my left eyelid had moved up to merely "half-mast" and the cardiac doctor pronounced my ticker good for "another half million miles." He also put my mind at ease about the swollen broken toe and the eyelid.
During all this time I just didn't have the oomph to post anything. I felt foolish for having fallen and, aside from that and the NH vote, there wasn't much to talk about.
The bottom, though, came last night, when I realized that there weren't going to be any Golden Globes awards show.
Now THAT was depressing.
Mom and dad are gonna crap themselves when I step off that plane in Ft. Myers this coming Thursday. I still haven't told them what happened to me -- and right now I look like I was in a barroom brawl!
This sort of thing never happened to me when I was drunk.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
CaCa-Cau-Cau
Some nice folks in Iowa are going to get together tonight, football permitting, and stand around a bunch of signs, trying to decide which candidates suck less.
I have zero interest in our political system anymore since it clearly consists, on both sides of the aisle, of a bunch of sellouts, ass-kissers, people-pleasers and outright pandering liars who will say anything (and do nothing) in order to get elected (and re-elected and re-elected and re-elected).
My rather meager set of minority creds has gotten me thrown under the bus more times than I'd care to mention over the last 4 decades.
I've been promised the sun, the moon and the stars. I've gotten shit, more shit and piled higher and deeper shit.
I wouldn't believe a politician if he (or she) was standing in a witness box with their hand on a stack of Guttenberg bibles 10 feet tall, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
The "truth" is that most politicans wouldn't know the "truth" if it came up and bit them on the ass.
I am a tradeable commodity, like baseball cards. My party, the Democrats, happily trades my security and happiness, time and again, in order to get some other sweetheart deal from the mortal enemy, the Republicans. If the Republicans are willing to cut a deal on some pork barrel project that'll guarantee the Democrat re-election, watch how fast they sell out Trannies (this years fashionable focus of political disdain).
And they wonder why people like me don't give a rat's ass about America anymore.
I'm not saying that I haven't gotten a lot out of living here. But I will say that it's cost me plenty in terms of self-esteem and feelings of self-worth.
Just sayin'.
I have zero interest in our political system anymore since it clearly consists, on both sides of the aisle, of a bunch of sellouts, ass-kissers, people-pleasers and outright pandering liars who will say anything (and do nothing) in order to get elected (and re-elected and re-elected and re-elected).
My rather meager set of minority creds has gotten me thrown under the bus more times than I'd care to mention over the last 4 decades.
I've been promised the sun, the moon and the stars. I've gotten shit, more shit and piled higher and deeper shit.
I wouldn't believe a politician if he (or she) was standing in a witness box with their hand on a stack of Guttenberg bibles 10 feet tall, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
The "truth" is that most politicans wouldn't know the "truth" if it came up and bit them on the ass.
I am a tradeable commodity, like baseball cards. My party, the Democrats, happily trades my security and happiness, time and again, in order to get some other sweetheart deal from the mortal enemy, the Republicans. If the Republicans are willing to cut a deal on some pork barrel project that'll guarantee the Democrat re-election, watch how fast they sell out Trannies (this years fashionable focus of political disdain).
And they wonder why people like me don't give a rat's ass about America anymore.
I'm not saying that I haven't gotten a lot out of living here. But I will say that it's cost me plenty in terms of self-esteem and feelings of self-worth.
Just sayin'.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Well, look what the cat dragged in!
Happy New Year!
I've been sick since last Friday (the same cold I thought I got rid of 2 weeks ago). I got so run down at the beginning of the Christmas/New Year's break that it caught up to me for the 2nd half.
I spent 3 days around Christmas in Delaware with my sister and her family. We had a great time. This is the non-toxic family that life (or God) held in reserve for me until I was an adult.
I also spent a fair amount of time driving vast distances in order to have lousy meals at Chinese Buffets with old friends who were worth the trouble.
I got lots of DVD's, the board game "Clue", and a seating guide to all the legit theaters in New York City called "Stubs" (as much a "must-have" for New Yorkers as the Thomas Guide is for Angelenos). It helps take a lot of the hassle out of buying theater tickets on-line, by seeing in advance exactly where you'll be sitting. My grown-up theater queen nieces were all very impressed with it and got one for themselves.
By last Friday, though, I was feeling my age. I was also feeling the growing scratchiness in my throat, throughout the afternoon.
So I've been coughing my fool head off ever since. The cough is "non-productive" in medical parlance. I'll be thrilled when I finally hack up the fur ball that's been living in my throat for nearly a week now. (Is there anything sadder or more pathetic than a sick old queen, home alone on New Year's Eve? -- well don't cry for me Argentina! I watched 9 episodes of Season 3 of "Lost" New Year's Eve and Day. And washed that down with intermittent doses of the Twilight Zone Marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel (Wasn't Billy Mumy delicious as the evil kid who controlled the whole town?)
Today is my first day back at work. I have to work tomorrow, too, but I'm off Friday in order to see my cardiologist who should have the results of the nuclear stress test I had the week before Christmas (he'd better fucking say I'm in the pink or I'll have to hurt him because I'm in no mood for bad news).
Perhaps the single most important thing I did this past week was to hang up my 2008 Calendar in the bedroom. It's full of quotes by the brilliant philosopher Joseph Campbell. January's is this, "Life is Perfect. It's chaos and it's always been chaos and it always will be chaos and there is nothing you can do to change that. It's your job to straighten out your own life. That is the meaning of life."
Amen, brother.
I hope everyone had a happy, joyous, sane, healthy ChrisHannuKwaanYear, and that you spent a lot of time with people you love.
Now go straighten up the mess you call "life."
-JZB
p.s. I spotted the following little item on Wonkette the other day. Be sure to drop by over there and read the whole thing. Wonkette may be snarky and too "inside-the-beltway" for a lot of folks, but I love it.
=============================================
Ok, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these Christian conservative types? Does anyone else, anywhere, spend this much time thinking about other people having sex that isn’t doing so in order to masturbate, plan their next porno, or write for Fleshbot? Let alone, does anyone spend this much time equating the guy-on-guy anal action with fucking dead people, little kids or animals? Like, how does that even occur to you? Candidates are being assassinated in Pakistan and people are dying in Kenya over rigged elections and thousands of Americans and Iraqis are dead in Iraq because of a war we started for (apparently) no good reason and their feeble little minds are totally filled with thoughts of how God doesn’t want people to to engage in ass fucking because you can’t have babies? Jeebus Motherfucking Christ, I’m ready to start drinking now. Bring on the New Motherfucking Year.
1:35 PM ON MON DEC 31 2007
BY MEGAN CARPENTIER
I've been sick since last Friday (the same cold I thought I got rid of 2 weeks ago). I got so run down at the beginning of the Christmas/New Year's break that it caught up to me for the 2nd half.
I spent 3 days around Christmas in Delaware with my sister and her family. We had a great time. This is the non-toxic family that life (or God) held in reserve for me until I was an adult.
I also spent a fair amount of time driving vast distances in order to have lousy meals at Chinese Buffets with old friends who were worth the trouble.
I got lots of DVD's, the board game "Clue", and a seating guide to all the legit theaters in New York City called "Stubs" (as much a "must-have" for New Yorkers as the Thomas Guide is for Angelenos). It helps take a lot of the hassle out of buying theater tickets on-line, by seeing in advance exactly where you'll be sitting. My grown-up theater queen nieces were all very impressed with it and got one for themselves.
By last Friday, though, I was feeling my age. I was also feeling the growing scratchiness in my throat, throughout the afternoon.
So I've been coughing my fool head off ever since. The cough is "non-productive" in medical parlance. I'll be thrilled when I finally hack up the fur ball that's been living in my throat for nearly a week now. (Is there anything sadder or more pathetic than a sick old queen, home alone on New Year's Eve? -- well don't cry for me Argentina! I watched 9 episodes of Season 3 of "Lost" New Year's Eve and Day. And washed that down with intermittent doses of the Twilight Zone Marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel (Wasn't Billy Mumy delicious as the evil kid who controlled the whole town?)
Today is my first day back at work. I have to work tomorrow, too, but I'm off Friday in order to see my cardiologist who should have the results of the nuclear stress test I had the week before Christmas (he'd better fucking say I'm in the pink or I'll have to hurt him because I'm in no mood for bad news).
Perhaps the single most important thing I did this past week was to hang up my 2008 Calendar in the bedroom. It's full of quotes by the brilliant philosopher Joseph Campbell. January's is this, "Life is Perfect. It's chaos and it's always been chaos and it always will be chaos and there is nothing you can do to change that. It's your job to straighten out your own life. That is the meaning of life."
Amen, brother.
I hope everyone had a happy, joyous, sane, healthy ChrisHannuKwaanYear, and that you spent a lot of time with people you love.
Now go straighten up the mess you call "life."
-JZB
p.s. I spotted the following little item on Wonkette the other day. Be sure to drop by over there and read the whole thing. Wonkette may be snarky and too "inside-the-beltway" for a lot of folks, but I love it.
=============================================
Ok, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these Christian conservative types? Does anyone else, anywhere, spend this much time thinking about other people having sex that isn’t doing so in order to masturbate, plan their next porno, or write for Fleshbot? Let alone, does anyone spend this much time equating the guy-on-guy anal action with fucking dead people, little kids or animals? Like, how does that even occur to you? Candidates are being assassinated in Pakistan and people are dying in Kenya over rigged elections and thousands of Americans and Iraqis are dead in Iraq because of a war we started for (apparently) no good reason and their feeble little minds are totally filled with thoughts of how God doesn’t want people to to engage in ass fucking because you can’t have babies? Jeebus Motherfucking Christ, I’m ready to start drinking now. Bring on the New Motherfucking Year.
1:35 PM ON MON DEC 31 2007
BY MEGAN CARPENTIER
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