An AH HA Moment

Do you remember those old cartoons we used to watch as kids? They were clean and wholesome. When a character had a brilliant idea, a light bulb would appear over their heads and magically blink on and off.

Well, that childhood image has been completely destroyed by this guy.

Fateh Mohammad, a prison inmate in Pakistan, recently underwent surgery to have a glass light bulb removed from his anus.

Yes, I said anus.

The worst part about the ordeal is that Mohammad didn't know it was there. He woke up to a pain in his abdomen and was told in the hospital what the cause of his pain was.

Yeah. Pain in his abdomen. Uh huh. Sure, Mohammad.

Mohammad claims that someone must have drugged him and shoved the bulb up there while we was comatose. I'm not buying it....and neither are the doctors.

In the understatement of the year, the doctor that performed this delicate surgery is quoted as saying: "We had to take it out intact...Had it been broken inside, it would be a very very complicated situation."

Getting to Know Me....Getting to Know All About Me...

I stole this survey from Perplexio, who stole this from bearette24. Admittedly, I've eliminated some of the questions because, well, 44 questions it too many.

At any rate, since I've broken my rule about "not blogging about myself," I figure I might as well REALLY break the rule. (I'm an all or nothing kind of gal, I guess). Plus, I'm in a great mood because The Antidote and I closed on our new house yesterday. So, in the interest of sharing:

Which curse word do you use the most?

Which curse word do I use the least, is probably the question. I love the word f*ck, for it's various uses and for the looks it gets from passerbys when you yell it at the top of your lungs.

What time is your alarm clock set for?

I'm lucky, I have a flexible schedule at work....so, it varies. Generally my alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. But, much to The Antidote's chagrin, I rarely get up at that time. I try to get out of the house by 5:30 - 6:00 a.m....and I do that on most days. But sometimes I don't roll out until 7:30 a.m. or 8:00 a.m. Either that, or I call in -- *cough* *cough* -- "SICK."

How many suitcases do you own?

Tons of various sizes, but I have three that I primarily use. First, my big, pseudo hardshell suitcase for traveling to nasty places, like India, where it is ideally suited for the conditions, e.g., your bag is likely to be tossed in a puddle of human urine and you want to keep the urine out. Then, I have my "fits in the overhead compartment of airplane and is just big enough for the number of tank tops and shorts needed for a week of debauchery in Mexico" suitcase. Last, I have my fancy Louis Vuitton set for traveling to anywhere else.

What was the last movie you watched?

The Ringer...this is the Johnny Knoxville movie where they fix the special olympics. It was, suprisingly, funny WITH a message. (FYI -- that message is NOT "make fun of disadvantaged kids at every chance you get," but rather of the "we're people too" ilk.)

Has anyone ever called you lazy?

Of course not. They've always come up with much more colorful ways to tell me when I'm sloth-like.

Do you ever take medication to help you sleep?

Does gin count as a type of "medication?"

Which CD is currently in your CD player?

I own an IPOD silly. CD players are for kids.

Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk?

MMMM..chocolate. And since they've come out with chocolate skim milk...mmmm....even better.

Has anyone told you a secret this week?

If I told you that would be breaking the trust now, wouldn't it?

Can you whistle?

Only while I work...damn dwarves.

Are you shy around the opposite sex?

HA HA HA HA HA. Me, shy?! You've got to know me, though, to know why this is the funniest question, ever. I'm about as shy as a peep show.

Which movie(s) do you know every line to?

The Breakfast Club. "Does Barry MAnilow know you raided his wardrobe?"

Ever cry in public?

Whaddya think I am, a girl? Oh wait. I am a girl. Uh, I plead the 5th.

When is the last time you slept on the floor?

Does passing out count? If so, how am I supposed to remember? I passed out...DUH!!

Do you use sarcasm?

No. Wait, that was saracstic, wasn't it?

How old will you be on your next birthday?

*GASP* 32

Do you get along better with the same sex or the opposite sex?

This question presupposes I get along with anyone...which is a big presupposition.

One of your scars--how did you get it?

I was born with a dislocated hip. So, at the ripe old age of about 1.5, I had to go into skeletal traction in the hospital. As a result, I have 4 scars of equal size, one on each side of my thigh. But telling people that is just too boring. Since my mom is Chinese and my dad is Caucasian, I look just barely Asian enough for people to ask "what I am." I tell them about how dad was a soldier in Vietnam and met my mom while on R&R in Taiwan. Since most people think Asians are all alike, they forget that Taiwan and Vietnam aren't the same country. So, to explain my scars, I tell a merry tale of how dad smuggled mom and I out of Vietnam in his rucksack while bullets were flying. I took one straight through both legs...and didn't even shout out.

And believe it or not...some people think that story is true.

Oh the Humanity!!

I heard about this story on the radio this morning and its been eating at me.

Apparently the Whole Foods chain of grocery stores is no longer going to carry live lobsters. After a seven month study, Whole Foods has determined that keeping live lobsters in a tank at the grocery store is inhumane.

Initially I thought, "who cares?" But then I realized that I care. I care greatly that my choices as to where to buy lobster are being diminished by a group of people that believe that lobsters need to be treated with respect and compassion. I mean, what's so inhumane about these living conditions?

I swear this is where they filmed Joe Versus The Volcano. Either that, or it's the same apartment I lived in during college. If it's the latter, I can tell you that the lobster in the corner of this picture was a total bitch.

At any rate, it's all about perspective. This little guy is so happy that he's doing claw stands...

...and he's not even in one of the little "lobster condos" that were part of the study. So, I don't know what these animal rights people are concerned about.

Besides, is it compassionate for a lobster to try and pinch your fingers off when you're trying to shove it into a pot of boiling water? I don't think so. I see it all as merely self-defense. It's either the lobster, or you.



The best part is that Whole Foods still intends to sell frozen raw and cooked lobster products. As The Antidote so aptly put it, "what, are they going to dope it up by i.v. before killing it?" What's so humane about freezing? Perhaps the Inuit have a different view on freezing, but I believe most of the population feels that it would suck.

And how do they think the lobster has been cooked before it was frozen? How DO you humanely cook something? At a low temperature? On broil?

I bet Whole Foods and I agree on one thing, though. No one, and I mean no one, should tolerate dressing like a lobster. There's just nothing funny about that.

Drink Up!

While it shall never be said that I don't like to imbibe every once in awhile, I am concerned about my health. I'm well aware of the need to curb alcohol consumption. After all, my dad completely quit drinking the day his doctor told him to quit or have his liver buried with separate honors.

But there is hope on the horizon for the borderline drunk. Apparently, new studies have shown that coffee may reduce the risk of cirrhosis!

As if I needed any more reasons to go to Starbucks. Now my obsession with the franchise is totally legitimized.

Although the study author reports that "the way to avoid getting ill is not to drink a lot of coffee, but to cut down on the drinking," his warning rings hollow to me. Although he and his fellow researchers aren't quite sure WHY coffee helps, their study showed that one cup of coffee per day reduced the risk of cirrhosis by 20%, while four cups per day reduced the risk by 80%.

I'm pretty sure that the reason coffee helps your liver is due, in no small part, to the excessive purging of your system that occurs after drinking coffee. Who hasn't been told to "drink a cup of coffee" when the, umm...how do I say this....plumbing is all backed up?

So, I say, don't curb that hang over with a Bloody Mary in the morning. Have a cup of coffee -- or four. Your liver may thank you for it.

P.S. For you men that are concerned about your health, read up on the study that shows that a mere 17 beers per day may help you stave off prostate cancer.

Girls Night

Two women friends had gone for a "girls night out." They both were very faithful, loving wives... however, they had gotten a bit over enthusiastic on Bacardi Breezers.

Incredibly drunk and walking home, they needed to pee, so they stopped in a cemetery. One had nothing to wipe with so she decided to take off her panties and use them. Her friend, however, was wearing expensive panties and didn't want to ruin them...luckily she had squatted next to a grave that had a fresh wreath with a ribbon on it...so she proceeded to wipe with that.

After the girls completed their "business" they continued toward home.

The following day, one of the women's husband was concerned that his normally sweet and innocent wife was still in bed and hung over. He phoned the other husband, and said "These girls nights out have got to stop! I'm starting to suspect the worst! My wife came home with no panties!"...

"That's nothing!" said the other husband, mine came back with a card stuck to her butt that read:

"FROM ALL OF US AT THE FIRE STATION... WE WILL NEVER FORGET YOU"

Livin' La Vida Loca

Yes, I'm alive...but no, I'm not Ricky Martin. Sorry to disappoint my female readers. In fact, I'm far from it.

Things have been hectic and I haven't had time to construct any coherent sentences. Between buying a new house, selling our current house, getting stupid drunk on Friday, and then getting hit in the face with a softball yesterday, it's been...busy.

Although the real story is probably about how a simple Friday dinner with friends resulted in WWF-style wrestling on our living room floor, I can't really remember enough details to regale you with.

So, instead, you get to hear about the "softball incident".




We started playing softball for the beer afterwards. We play on a corporate co-ed team and all of the players are over 30 (or quickly approaching 30), and have serious desk jobs. So, at least one of us gets hurt every game. Sad, I know.

I was relegated to playing catcher because I have, basically, no eye hand coordination. If I know the ball is being thrown at me, I'm ok. Catching a fly ball, or worse, line drive...it's not happening.

Yesterday was the first game of the season. Given that the only reason we didn't come in last in the league last year was because another team decided to forefeit the season, our hopes were high.

Our first game actually went REALLY well. I think we won 14 - 5. Mind you, it was not because of our skill...but rather because the other team stunk. At any rate, a good pitch comes in, I catch it in my mitt...and instead of trapping it with my other hand, I let it bounce out of my mitt and hit my lip.

Not the smartest thing I've ever done. I immediately taste blood. So, what do I do? I dab it with my shirt repeatedly and finish out the inning. Then, I put ice on it. Then, I go to bat and actually hit a single (that NEVER happens to me). Then, we have a weird string of luck and I actually get to run in. Wow.

More ice on the face. Other team members take my place as catcher so I can continue to ice my face. As people realize I've actually hurt myself, they start telling me, "Really, it looks fine. Sort of like Angelina Jolie....Well, sort of...."

I go to bat again and strike out (more my style). More ice on my face.

The Antidote is starting to look REALLY worried. "Curare," he says (well, he doesn't call me Curare, but work with me), "I think we need to go to the emergency room. That might need stitches."

As the first game is over and we have enough people to field the second game, we jump in the car. The first look I get at my face I realize, I DO look like Angelina Jolie...

...except her lips are sexy swollen. And only one half of my top lip is swollen...and has a gaping cut in it. Not so sexy.

We tried several urgent care facilities on the way to the emergency room. On a side note, why is it that urgent care facilities are only open during "business hours." I mean, what's so urgent about getting sick during the day when your doctor can see you?! At any rate, we get the emergency room...the triage desk asks me what the problem is...and I pull the ice away from my face.

"OOHHH." Nice reaction lady. So, I fill out the paperwork and under "reason for emergency" I write: Took a softball to the face, have a fat lip that probably needs stitches.

Everyone gets a kick out of reading that for some reason. The Antidote is sitting next to me, feeling like everyone is looking at him as the battering husband. At least we have our matching jerseys on.

So, after only waiting about an hour, I get in to see a PA. She tells me I'm "lucky" because the cut does not cross my lip, but rather, is on the inside of my lip. No stitches, just keep it clean.

I can do that.

When I get up this morning, I realize that it doesn't look that bad. Well, that is, if "not bad" means it looks like I have a raging case of herpes on my lip. Lucky me.

Now, the Antidote wants to buy me a mask. Great, now I'll be like the kid in school that had to wear a football helmet every day because he falls down so much. It's great to be me.