Monthly Archives: February 2009

What a jerk

Sunday night, day two after surgery and I am laying on my new bed – my couch.  It has moments when it is the most comfortable piece of furniture ever and then there are times when it might as well be the Rack, you know,  that medieval torture device featured by the Christians.  I do believe it was one of the torture devices of choice for the Inquisition right after the soft cushions.

As I slide into yet another pain managed sleep my brain has decided that it has had too much rest and it’s time to fuck with me.  The next thing I know I am walking on a sidewalk covered with ice and sure enough I begin to slip and fall.  Just as I am about to hit the sidewalk and break my leg again every muscle in my body jerks in terror.

That, my friend, is what they call a Hypnic Jerk..  What a jerk.  You probably had one of these.  You know, you’re just about to fall asleep when you find yourself falling in space and just when you’re about to hit, every muscle in your body convulses in a perfectly staged event that scares the beejesus out of you.

Physically the jerk usually isn’t that big a deal, that is, if you don’t have your entire left leg below the knee immobilized due to the new bionics implanted by she-doc.  

As I catch my breath from the Jerk I find myself in significant pain yet I am laughing. I am laughing because of all things the Jerk and my leg  make me think of the classic logic paradox. 

No not two doctors.

The classic paradox I am referring to is what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object.   Obviously from a logic perspective it is impossible to have both of these entities and we could spend a couple million words debating this classic paradox. 

I can tell you from a practical application perspective in the case of the irresistible force – the hypnic Jerk vs the immovable object- my cast, I was the only loser.  That force had no where to go but back into the infrastructure of my leg and boy oh boy did that hurt. 

You know when someone has had too much to drink or have had to many synaptic provocateurs you may describe them as, “Fucked up.”  It’s a pretty common phrase.  Well I have new phrase to describe my state when I am adequately pain managed – “fogged up.”  hehehehe

FYI – On Dr. Mike E’s recommendation I went 9 hours with no – zippo – pain medication today!



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a quickie update

My leg feels like some half-assed high school shop teacher used it to demonstrate how to fix a broken chair leg.  What’s worse half-ass or whole-ass.  I think if you do something whole ass you really screwed it up.

The final tabulation is in and it goes as follows:  1 plate, 5 pins and 2 screws.  The plate went on the outside of my fibula, the pins hold the plate onto my fibula or maybe my fibula onto the plate.  The two screws, per the xray went through the plate, my fibula and almost all the way through my tibia.

The nerve block was awesome until it ran out at 2am on Saturday morning.  When I say it ran out I me someone opened up every nerve in my lower leg and flooded my brain with pain signals. 

Pain medication albeit impressive in description couldn’t touch the discomfort.  For the record my pain medication is an oxycodone/tylenol blend (percocet) and this interesting drug call hydromorphone.  Looking it up it says that it is 8 times stronger than Morphine and 3 times more effective than Heroin.  Interesting adjective to use when describing the drug relative to heroin.

My biggest challenge is to keep Bob (my minature, talking, invisible elephant) away from the stash.  He’s like one of those truffle sniffing pigs when it comes to pharmaceuticals. 

 Speaking of Bob, I gotta go he’s got my back pack and is making for the door.


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And now for something completely different


That my friends is the xray of my left fibula, yes the broken one.  That has put me on the shelf for a few days and after surgery tomorrow (Friday morning) will put me  on the disabled list for the better part of 3 months.  The recipe for disaster was simple, a perfect storm, a confluence of shit who’s timing was impeccable.  A ten month old sheep dog with his lead tangled around my right leg, all my weight on my left leg and ice.  Ice, ice baby – where is vanilla ice when you need him?

When I went down I knew it wasn’t good.  I didn’t hear a snapping sound or anything like that.  What I felt was a vibration.  The best way to explain it is if you take a good sized twig and try to snap it, just before the twig breaks you can feel a vibration in the twig then snap.  All I remember is feeling that vibration.

Actually the other thing I remember is being thankful that somehow in the midst of this cataclysmic event I had managed to fall in between the piles of dog shit on the ice.  It is funny today, but I am not sure if I would have found it funny then if I had done a face plant in one of those piles of crap. 

So the doc says she needs to go in and build a fucking bridge in my leg.  You know a few screws, a pin or two, maybe a plate, shit who knows maybe even a toll booth.  It seems that in my haste to fracture my fibula I’ve also managed to mess up my ankle and without all the hardware holding shit in place my ankle would not be much good to me in a few years.

So with much trepidation I’ve agreed to surgery.  The scary part if I was a fine tuned athlete like a thoroughbred horse I’d already be compost for the garden.  Thank god I fit the criteria for saving  –  fat, middle-aged bald guy with a penchant for no good.  hehehehehe . 

A few casual observations I’ve made in the past few days regarding our health care process.  First, I have health insurance so every health worker has treated me with great respect and care.  Almost like royalty.   Second, from the emergency room to the doctors office to the blood work lab to the cardiology testing center there wasn’t a clock to be had.  Nope not one.  I guess they figure if they don’t make a clock available you won’t realize how long you’ve waited to be seen.   Third, health care workers care.  Or at least they are putting on a tremendous front.   From the registration folks to the nurses to the lab assistants everyone seemed to care, which in today’s world, is so fucking important.

I know the world doesn’t need yet another blog about this fool going through some medical challenges and god knows it’s only a broken leg and fucked up ankle.  There are folks out there doing tremendous writing about their ability to live with cancer and all other kinds of serious shit.  Hopefully I can bring  a little laughter over the coming weeks to you and to me.  Lord knows I don’t look at shit like everyone else.


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Saturday at 11

Have you seen any of these man vs. wild or survivor man shows yet.  The basic premise is they drop some dude in the middle of no where and he then has to get somewhere.

In the course of the journey – which typically is restricted to a week – they climb shit, swim shit, eat shit – well not exactly shit but in one show the dude ate a snake, a spider and some bark.  Yum!

Well, if any of you out there in blog land know of any TV producers please have them contact me.  I have a great idea for a show, that I have to star in.

It too will be called something like….man vs. wild or survivor man, however, I don’t plan on being dropped in the amazon or atop the Grand Tetons.  Nope, I am going to jet to some of the most luxurious places on earth and really show folks how to survive.

I’ve compiled a list of places for consideration.  My schedule is pretty flexible so I could leave ASAP:

London – of course we’d have to stay at the Savoy
Monte Carlo – Hotel Hermitage during the F1 Grand Prix
Phuket – I just love the name
The “Hamptons”
Palm Springs
San Moritz – Badrutt’s Palace Hotel will work
Dubai – The Atlantis Hotel
Nevis – Four Seasons

The premise is I land in these places and for a few days I show folks how to survive.  We hit all the hot spots, we consume copious amounts of the best alcohol and synaptic provocateurs, and eat the best food.  In  between we check out what there is to do from an activities perspective – maybe crash a nice golf course or a nice rental car.  Who knows.  The cool thing would be to see this overweight, bald douche bag (me) “chilling”  in these cool places. 

Shit, I’d even take a sidekick.  Maybe Paris could free up some time and accompany me.  I am sure she knows her way around all these places and would be a kick ass tour guide. 

It would be like lifestyles of the rich and famous meets sara brown travel channel chick meets tony bourdain food channel monkey.

Come on, there has to be a producer out there that thinks this is a good idea.  With all the crap on TV you know folks will tune in to see the further adventures of the bald, fat dude’s luxury trip around the globe (with the hot side kick who has no idea how she got trapped into traveling with the fat dude).

In addition to all the great places we could do another set of shows going to the best gigs – you know, the Oscars, Grammy’s, great concerts in great places.  Think about how cool it would be to not have to see another one of those stupid red carpet Oscar shows.  Instead you got me walking around trying to get people to talk to me.  Getting into all the backroom stuff.  Getting drunk with Joan Rivers.  Come on – that would be funny as shit.  Man we would see shit.

Hehehehehehehe.  I’d do a whole nother blog just on my adventures.

So, Mr or Ms TV Producer – drop me an email.  I can leave next week.  Shit, nothing would be funnier than watching this fool walking down the beach in Nevis with a Speedo and my New England Winter tan working.  Ha.    Ewwww – speedo?

Operators are standing by.  Actually, shouldn’t the saying be, “Operators are sitting and waiting?”  Did Operators really stand?  Whoa, I have no idea where that came from.


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Unabashed Plugging

I’ve been meaning to post a post about some music I’ve experienced recently.  Some really excellent music.  No make that some really fucking excellent music.

You know, the kind of music that has the ability to turn that frown upside down.  The kind of music that recharges your battery to new high levels.  The kind of music that leaves you full of hope.  The kind of music that as you experience it live, transports you to a place that is warm, pozitoodinally electric and most importantly crowded with like minded people.

Two bands that I’ve seen in the past month have done that for me.  These aren’t bands that you’ll find splashed on magazine covers or dancing about the stage at the Super Bowl (maybe one day).  These are bands that have a tremendous following of people who are all about the music and the scene. 

The first band – Assembly of Dust has been around for a while.  I actually saw them a year or two ago at the Gathering of the Vibes (GOTV) and was duly impressed.  This last go round, in the comfy venue called Pearl Street, they rocked the house.

Tight and upbeat their music is inspiring.  Inspiring all the right thoughts, inspiring a smile.  If they happen to be in the neighborhood I highly recommend you do everything in your power to see them play.  

Funny story – as we entered the venue everyone was searched and if you wanted an adult beverage an id check was required.   In this day and age I have no issues with searching everyone coming in to ensure our safety.

So here I am, standing in line when it was my turn to get searched.  As I was patted down the dude hit my pocket and felt something in there that required further inspection.  He asked me to empty my pockets.  No big deal, I knew that anything I did want to see I had already squirreled away in my ass.  Just kidding – squirreled away may have been a bad choice of words.

Anyway, I empty my pockets and there is nothing except some money (the little I have left), car keys, keys to the restaurant and a sharpie.  The sharpie being left in my pocket from work that night.  Well, you’d have thought I had a 9mm Glock in my pocket.  The dude summoned the manager over and the confiscated my sharpie and I was told that they were tired of painting the bathroom walls and I couldn’t bring my sharpie in to the venue.

I said, that’s cool, and proceeded to get my wristband so I could have a beer or two.

I go upstairs to the main “ballroom” and make my way over the the bar and get a beer.  The beer dude grabs the bottle of beer, takes my money and hands me the beer.  I head out into the “ballroom” when it dawns on me that I have, like the other hundred plus people in the venue, been given a glass bottle full of beer. 

So, I can’t have a sharpie but I can have a glass bottle of beer.   The incongruity of the those two interactions seems a bit odd, but what the hell.  I guess if a major brawl breaks out I’d rather have the bottle than the sharpie.  However, my graffiti options in the bathroom have been severely limited.

The other band I just saw without the fanfare of sharpie detention is this great roots-reggae band from that mecca of roots-reggae – Rochester, NY. 

I was looking for something to do this past weekend and noticed this band playing at the Iron Horse in Northampton, MA.  The band is called Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad.  No seriously.  Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad.  Check’em out at

All I can say is WHOA.  These folks rocked the Horse to the timbers.  Original reggae tunes with jam band digressions filled the night.  The band harmonized beautifully and from an instrumental perspective they were right the fuck on.  Tight, tight, tight.

They came on a little after 10pm and the Sierra Nevada Pale was flowing quite freely.  Not free, but freely.  The wonderful nectar from Chico, CA had its intended effect.  I was soon grooving and dancing like a had a headful of dreadlocks and synaptic provocateurs.  Suffice to say – I do for grooving and dancing what Carl Lewis did for singing the National Anthem (

As the Sierra Nevada continued to flow I renamed the band the “bear monkeys.”  Not sure they’d appreciate it but it was easier to scream.

For over 2 hours GPGDS kicked major ass.  The Iron Horse moan and groaned (in a good way) to the rhythm of the band and the hundred plus fans grooving to their sound.  For 2 hours I didn’t have to worry about making payroll or how I am possibly going to continue to keep two restaurants open or how my personal pozitoodinal meter was close to running out.  For two hours GPGDS Count me in as a new fan.  These boys and girl ROCK!

They have an album available “Slow Down” that does a nice job of capturing the energy and musical talents of this very, very fun group.

Last but not least – happy birthday bro…..a basket of pozitoodinal love and energy has been sent via the airwaves.

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