Good morning!

I am awake and dressed and at work and all of my body parts are functioning normally and pain-free.  I therefore expect to fall off of a ladder later today.  I do not intend to climb a ladder but I will find a way to fall off one anyway.

Here is a picture of a bird I rescued from the store yesterday.  His name is Bird because I am not very creative.

Ow holy god shit ow OW in which I don’t OW go to the OW hospital OW but maybe OW I should? Ow.

Jaws_Wired_Shut.pngI swear this just happened: I was getting my son ready for bed– read him a story and all– and was sort of wrestling and tickling and playing with him and he entirely accidentally elbowed me in the jaw and I swear to God he hit it just right and dislocated the fucking thing.  And like half a second later I just reached up with my hand and somehow, like, popped it back into place?  And there was a few seconds of absolutely tremendous horrifying pain and maybe another readjustment or two and now my whole face just feels swollen and weird and okay I can talk and I just ate something and I’m not dying but my face is not supposed to feel like this.  

Is that even a possible thing?  That my kid might have knocked my jaw out of place with an elbow and that I just put it back a half-second later without knowing what I was doing or even thinking about it?  Because really ow I didn’t like that very much but I feel like maybe I fixed it?

Also: ow.

Another thing I just realized

5104389f26c12.image_.jpgMy kid’s school is cancelled tomorrow– not because of the weather, which is supposed to be absolutely outstanding, but because nearly 40% of the students in some grade levels and a not-inconsiderable number of teachers and subs have been sick lately.  The email from the principal named no less than four different diseases that had been running rampant in the building lately, and apparently the janitorial staff will be boiling the building tomorrow.

It’s probably good that this happened, because the email also made reference to the “four-day weekend” that the kids were about to have, which made both my wife and I realize that he actually does have Monday off, which neither of us had really realized because we don’t have any idea how the hell to check a school calendar.

So here’s the cool part: I started the Current Occupation in June, right?  And it’s mid-February now, as insane as that might feel.  During all that time I have not missed a single day of work due to illness.  I’ve come home and died a couple of times, and had some less-than-fantastic days, but I haven’t really been sick in months.  And that’s after fifteen years of missing, usually, around a day a month every single year I was teaching.  I was rarely if ever able to carry sick days across from one year to the next and had to dip into the sick bank twice.  And not one illness worth any serious consideration since June, despite constant contact with the public throughout that time.

Add that to the pile of reasons I don’t miss teaching, I guess.

Let’s do this again

hip-replacement-implantsThis is going to be another one of those posts where my mother and my aunt call me the next day to make sure I haven’t died since the last time I wrote anything.  It happens about once a week, maybe.  I don’t know what the hell the deal is, whether it’s the change in the weather or maybe I tweaked something while unloading the sofa truck this morning (I can recall one particular insanely heavy power sofa where  I felt like I was hitting my knees pretty hard on way down the ramp) or what, but every attempt to stand up from a seated position today resulted in crippling fucking pain in my right hip and right leg.  Like, sitting for a minute meant two minutes of standing before I was able to walk.  Godfuckingawful.  The weird thing is that so long as I’m still there’s no pain at all; I kind of want to take a thousand pain pills before I go to bed tonight but right now as I’m sitting on the couch typing this I’m fine.  I’m going to have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming when I stand up in a bit, mind you, but right now I’m fine.

It would probably help if I wasn’t as heavy as I am.  Then again, my knees have been screwed up my entire life– comparing my footprints to other people’s in the snow has always been funny, because mine are the ones at a much wider angle than anyone else’s– and sooner or later the fact is the fuckers are getting replaced.  I just wish that was a surgery that could be done electively rather than in fifteen years when my patellas have ground to dust and my joints are in splinters.

But, hey.  Something to look forward to.


I talked about this briefly last night, but at this point there’s no longer any doubt: I think I’m over The Walking Dead as a franchise.  We’ve pretty much entirely bailed on Fear the Walking Dead, having not watched a single episode of the second season, and I watched the Season 7 of the main show premiere last night, and I think it probably should have kicked my ass.  That show’s sent my heartrate through the roof on any number of occasions and not a single thing that happened in that episode did anything for me at all.  The comic book hasn’t been interesting in months either.  I’ll definitely finish out the current storyline just in case it gets better but I may have to be done after that.


I may write a longer post about this tomorrow or during my weekend sometime, but: I liked the Fox remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show quite a bit.  I kind of feel like making that a longer post, though, so more on it later.

Fat Man III: The DeFatManification

So all last year I worked at a job where I was too fucking lazy to bring my lunch to work 95% of the time and so I spent a shitload of time eating fast food every week.  Then I got sick in September or October or whatever and I’ve basically been sitting on my ass at home for the last five months.

I have lost substantial amounts of weight twice in my life.  In grad school I got down from 240 to 200 pounds through a combination of diet and exercise.  The exercise?  Swimming.  I love to fucking swim.  I don’t even care that it’s exercise.  So I will do it.  Daily, if necessary.

A couple of years ago I dropped from 260 to 220 through, almost exclusively, diet.  Why no exercise?  No pool.

I weighed three hundred and four fucking pounds when I got on the scale this morning.


swimming-pool-lap-lanes-26847247.jpgI have been laboring under the mistaken notion that South Bend lacked an adequate lap pool.  There are two that I am aware of in town: one is at the YMCA and another is at a local neighborhood rec center called the Kroc Center.  Both have, to put it mildly, hours for lap swimming ranging from inconvenient to “why the fuck are you even bothering?”

Last Thursday I discovered the existence of a heretofore unknown third pool at a facility that has been here for the entire time I have lived in South Bend but which was previously somehow hidden from me.

I am deeply angry that this place has been out there being all perfect for my needs and this is the first that I’ve heard about it.

Their lap pool is open the entire time the facility is open and, at least for my hours of activity, the facility may as well be 24 hour.  On Friday I took a tour of the gym.  This morning, after a meeting with my doctor (believe it or not, this place waives the enrollment fee and drastically drops the monthly rate if you can get your doctor to claim there’s a medical reason you need exercise.  I’m very very fat!  I need exercise!) I signed up.  And I went swimming.  I made it 10 laps in a 25-meter pool; at my most fit I could do a mile without stopping.  I then spent ten minutes in a hot tub and went home.

I’m done with this bullshit now.  I’m so fat, at this point, that buttoning my pants can get me out of breath, because I have stupidly short arms and the way I have to shunt my gut out of the way to deal with my pants actually compresses my lungs.  There is a chair in my house that I occasionally avoid sitting in because getting out of it again can be so obnoxious.  I have other stories, some more embarrassing; I think you get the idea.

I’m done with this bullshit now.  I turn 40 in a few months.  I can either get control of my shit again or I can be dead by 45.  Those are my fucking choices.

Enough.