« September 2006 | Main | November 2006 »
October 31, 2006
Two Dreams
I can't think of a polite way to ease into this, so here goes ...
Saturday night I dreamed that Jennifer Ansiton was going to pop a pimple on my back. That was it, or all I remember of the dream. 
Now, why did I dream this? One night during the world series -- which I didn't watch -- I was flipping around and found The War at Home; the WS was in rain-delay mode and The War at Home was on in its place.
The show has two boys in it and, well, let's not get bogged down in character details ... the younger boy says to his mother, "I have a zit on my back that needs popped." She says "oooh, no" and sends him on his way. A second later the boy yells up the steps to his brother about the zit and the brother says, "Well, get up here!"
Which explains the zit.
Saturday I watched The Break-up with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. Which explains Jennifer.
And there you have it. The explanation for the dream. And, I think, this makes the second Friends star I've incorporated into my dreams; neither of them have been men.
Last night I dreamed I was at my friend Natalie's house, and this would have been before she was married. I was using her toilet, in the reading-a-magazine position, and gave it a flush. A big roll of money appeared in the incoming water stream -- it was a really big inlet hole -- and I snatched it. It was hundred-dollar bills. And there was another roll behind it. And a couple issues of Golf Magazine too.
I started pulling all this stuff out and handing it to my buddy Joe and his dad who had somehow appeared (my drawers were up at this point). I continued to pull other non-paper products out as well; one of the items was a small metal tray that Natalie, upon passing through, commented about saying she'd been looking for one.
After I cleared the inlet hole I noticed I could see through the back of the toilet into the workings of the sewer system. So, I walked through. There was a really big room with those small tiles on the floor; the whole thing had an empty-subway-tunnel feel. The floor was damp but there was no sewage anywhere -- it was very clean; I guess because it was the inlet. There was another Golf Magazine laying on the floor.
To the right I could hear guitar music coming through another toilet and noticed the back of that toilet looked like a big screen. I wondered how this affected the flow of water into that apartment. I was certain the guitar player was Marcy Mays of Scrawl and more recently the Surly Girl Saloon.
I walked a bit further and heard someone coming toward me. I ran back toward Natalie's and paused to realign a small fence that I hadn't noticed before but knew it needed straightened in order that no one find out I was walking through the sewer. I dove threw the opening into Natalie's bathroom.
Now, the dissection:
Natalie: I've known her since high school. When I dropped below 230 pounds recently I was reminded of having done the same 25 years ago and mentioning it to Natalie. Also, we've talked on the phone recently about computer things.
The Bathroom: Just yesterday I had a Klee Irwin experience. Had Steve Irwin been with me during said experience I imagine he would have said, "Crikey, isn't she a beauty!"
Joe and his Dad: I talk to Joe a lot. The other day at McDonald's there was a gruff guy standing next to me that reminded me of Joe's dad. (Joe's dad seemed sort of gruff when I was younger. Now that I'm as old as he was then I understand that he was, understandably, put off by some of Joe's friends. Um, me.)
Rolls of Money: Don't we all wish money would appear from some unlikely source?
Golf Magazine: I've no freakin' clue. I don't golf often. I don't golf well. Sunday I e-mailed an old friend and told her that a group of other old friends and I got together and golfed about six months ago. Maybe that was it.
Marcy Mays: I used to work with her. The woman who used to be my wife told me about The Surly Girl.
Hey, Marcy and I used to work with another woman named Beth M. Her initials were BM ... maybe that's where the whole thing started. (OK, that's probably a stretch.)
Small Fence: There is currently a commercial running in which a guy running a race stops by a Speedway. As he's getting his snacks together he notices the other racers coming ... he swipes his Speed Pay card, it beeps, and he dashes out the door without having to interact with the clerk. He walks around the barrier separating the racers from the watchers and, he takes a second to move the barrier back in place before restarting the race. Yesterday is the first time I'd notice the guy moving the barrier. (It may not be a Speedway commercial -- but that's where I've seen the item advertised used. Maybe it's Master Card?)
Aren't you glad you stop by What's A Delmer Look Like when you read things like this?
Posted by delmer at 7:33 AM | Comments (2)
October 30, 2006
Jello-O Bath Finale
We left off Friday with a cute blond offering to climb into a bathtub of Jell-O with me. That offer was withdrawn when I explained that we would be taking a Jell-O bath the way the Lord would have wanted us to take a Jell-O bath: naked.
(There is a lesser known ninth Beatitude. One interpretation is: Blessed are those who bathe in Jell-O naked. For they will be squeaky clean: the Lord prefers Lime.)
As you know, college isn't all cute blonds and Jell-O. 
At some point the Jell-O bath idea sort of fell off the radar. Which is how I ended up, at the end of the year, moving out of a mostly empty apartment with a big bunch of Jell-O left over.
Lisa was there too. And I point that out just to give you a bit of end of story hopefulness about the whole project. What I don't remember is whether or not she showed up after I'd already started filling the tub up with Jell-O, or, if it was her idea to fill the tub up to see what would happen.
What I do remember is that the tub was filled about a 1/8 to 1/4 of the way up -- far less full than you'd need for sloshing, er, slogging around with a blond. (Probably even a redhead and brunette.)
Water was boiled and put in the tub. Jell-O was added. Maybe some cold water. Certainly some ice cubes. I know the mix involved at least twice the amount of fluids the Jell-O box called for.
We waited. Maybe we had lunch. I'm certain we didn't sit around and reflect upon how good we felt just being 22 years old. We didn't talk about how we didn't have a bunch of mystery aches and pains that we were sure we'd develop later in life. We didn't talk about how our knees didn't pop whenever we stood up. Maybe we had ice cream.
At some point we returned to the bathroom and the bathtub.
Voila. We had Jell-O.
Having a tub of Jell-O when you're thinking of climbing in and playing around is one thing. Having a tub of Jell-O when you're cleaning out an apartment at the end of the year is another.
My Jell-O research had ended at the point I determined I could mix it a lot thinner than the box suggested and still have it harden. The results of the research -- that is, Jell-O -- always ended up being eaten or put in the trash. Faced with a tub of the stuff I wasn't real sure what to do. Thanks to Jeff Foxworthy we now know that microwaving Jell-O returns it to its liquid state; that would not have been a lot of help had I known it then, and even though I didn't, I think a similar principal applies to what I did.
I started the hot water. The Jell-O started to liquefy.
(As an aside, prior to filling the tub up with Jell-O I'd cleaned the bathroom. The tub, the sink, the toilet, etc. And then, of course, I filled the tub partially full with Lime Jell-O.)
So, the Jell-O liquefied and started running down the drain. After a couple of minutes I had, again, an empty tub. This time, however, I had a dirt ring that started from where the top of the Jell-O had been to the top of the tub. Saying that another way, the bottom portion of the tub was sparkling. It looked great.
I was so inspired by Jell-O's ability to clean porcelain that I put a box down the toilet. This did no good at all. It would seem that it has to set up for the cleaning prosperities of Jell-O to kick in.
So ends the Jell-O bath story. Before I go, though, let me leave you with some important Jell-O facts:
Did you know that before 1930 it would have been impossible to take a Lime Jell-O bath? The first four Jell-O flavors were orange, lemon, strawberry, and raspberry. Lime was introduced in 1930.
There is a Jell-O Museum.
The Jell-O Website.
Googling Jell-O Bath returns my blog near the top of the list. Googling Jello Bath does not. Hopefully this entry will fix that. (Jello bath, Jello bath, Jello bath. Say it fast)
There seem to be an endless supply of Jell-O Shot recipes on the web. I think I have the only, at least one of the few, and the only one I found, recipes for a Jell-O Bath (Jelllo Bath for those of you who are hyphenatically-challenged.)
Posted by delmer at 7:31 AM | Comments (2)
October 29, 2006
Dostinex Recall and Generic Cabergoline
Two months ago I was unable to refill my Dostinex prescription as some sort of recall was affecting the availability. I mentioned the recall then and, lo and behold, the second most popular search term used to bring people to What's a Delmer Look Likethis month is Dostinex Recall. (Number one is Granny Gallery which, I'm pretty sure, is people looking for porn featuring mature women.)
Anyway, I believe the Dostinex Recall had something to do with the packaging of the product rather than the quality of the product. I was surprised to hear this (and don't know that it's a fact) as my pills always came in your basic yellow-brown prescription bottle that my pharmacist would scoop pills into.
About the same time I was unable to get Dostinex, I found I was able to get the generic version of the drug -- cabergoline.
I've been taking the generic now for two months and believe it works just as well as Dostinex.
At the same time I started the generic, my dosage was reduced from 2 1/2 pills twice a week (five pills weekly) to 2 pills twice a week (four pills or 2 mg). I lost five pounds during these two months (not that I was really trying). My prolactin went up just a hair -- from 7.1 to 7.4 where the normal range is 2.1 to 17.7.
I have not suffered any side effects from Dostinex or cabergoline.
(I know this was all mentioned yesterday, but, there's a lot of boring stuff (for most) in yesterday's entry and this could have easily gotten lost.)
Posted by delmer at 12:01 AM | Comments (0)
October 28, 2006
October 23 Blood Work Update
I had some blood drawn on October 23rd. The following is an update of my hormone history. The stuff that has changed since last bloodwork immediately follows. A chart of my progress can be found here.
October 23, 2006 Notes:
I’ve been taking the Cabergoline (generic form of Dostinex) for two months. Blood was drawn on a Monday morning and I last took cabergoline Thursday morning. I’ve been taking 1 mg twice a week - so, two things have changed since my last blood draw; I’m taking less cabergoline and I’m taking the generic. My prolactin has gone up just a tad -- nothing I'd worry about. I weigh 224 pounds.
The following is a history of my bloodwork in the time that has passed since I found I had Low T and High Prolactin. I hope the format is OK. If it looks like crap in your reader you can cut and past it into notepad using the courier typeface.
DATE TOT_T FREE_T %FREE_T PROLACTIN
-------------------------------------------------------------
Jul01 147 (300-1000)
Oct01 350 (300-1000)
I had been on Androgel for 4 weeks.
Jun02 36 (300-1000)
I had discontinued Androgel in November 01
Jul02 146 (300-1000) 56.2(1.6-18.8)
Aug02 122 (241-827) 3.39(5-21) 2.78(1-2.7) 65 (2.1-17.7)
I weighed 354
Appt. with endo
MRI Turns up two small tumors on pituitary
Start BROMOCRIPTINE (09-03-02) 2.5mg nightly
Nov02 138 (241-827) 3.39 (5-21) 38 (2.1-17.7)
BROMO bumped to 5mg nightly (11/14/02)
Dec02 207 (300-1000) 3.70 (8.7-55) 39.3(1.6-18.8)
Start DOSTINEX (12/18/02) .25mg twice weekly
I weigh 370 pounds
Jan03 153 (241-827) 4.10 (5-21) 46.3 (2.1-17.7)
DOSTINEX bumped to .5mg twice weekly
Mar03 32.1 (2.1-17.7)
DOSTINEX Bumped to .75 mg twice weekly on 3/7/03
Jun03 230 (241-827) 4.00 (5-21) 24.4 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 330
DOSTINEX Bumped to 1 mg twice weekly on 6/9/03
Oct03 347 (241-827) 5.69 (5-21) 1.64(1-2.7) 22.2 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 308
Feb04 328 (241-827) 20.1 (2.1-17.7)
DOSTINEX bumped to 1.5 mg twice weekly on 2/25/03
Jun04 392 (241-827) 10.33 (5-21) 2.65(1-2.7) 15.9 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 285
Oct04 454 (241-827) 11.12 (5-21) 2.45(1-2.7) 12.8 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 269 pounds
Feb05 464 (281-827) 15.73 (5-21) 3.39(1-2.7) 11.5 (2.1-17.7)
Jun05 10.1 (2.1-17.7)
Oct05 563 (281-827) 9.7 (2.1-17.7)
Mar06 8.9 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 249 pounds
My Dostinex was decreased from 1.5 to 1.25 mg twice wkly
May06 7.3 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 238 pounds
Aug06 706 (241-827) 7.1 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 229
Dostinex decreased from 1.25 to 1.0 mg twice wkly
Dostinex is hard to find - I’ll be taking Par’s generic
Oct06 7.4 (2.1-17.7)
I weigh 224
Have been taking cabergoline for two months at the
the new, reduced, dose of 1 mg twice a week.
October 23, 2006 Notes:
I’ve been taking the Cabergoline (generic form of Dostinex) for two months. Blood was drawn on a Monday morning and I last took cabergoline Thursday morning. I’ve been taking 1 mg twice a week - so, two things have changed since my last blood draw; I’m taking less cabergoline and I’m taking the generic. My prolactin has gone up just a tad.
August 23, 2006 Notes:
I turned 46 on August 23rd. What better way to celebrate a birthday than going to the Endo and having some blood taken? This blood was drawn on a Wednesday morning … about 24 hours before my next dose of Dostinex.
I’ve dropped 20 pounds since my March 6 visit to the endo (The May 12 notes came after a trip to LabCorp to have blood tested between endo visits).
I have recently read some posts in a couple of Pituitary Message Boards about people having trouble losing weight (or reporting unexplained weight gain) while their prolactin is high. The postings I read were made by women; I don’t know if the weight problem I had was a low-T or high-prolactin thing … probably a bit of both. I am convinced that the trouble I had losing weight was hormone related.
I know I keep moving this date around, but I honestly think I’ll have the gyno surgery after my kid’s fall soccer is over.
If I had a prolactinoma - a prolactin secreting tumor - Dostinex might shrink the tumor. My endo isn’t sure I have a prolactinoma - he knows the tumors are the problem, but he isn’t sure they are secreting prolactin as he would have expected it to be higher than it was if this were the case. So, meds may not cause tumor shrinkage in my case.
Dostinex is currently under a recall of some sort and on backorder. In December of ’05 Par Pharmaceutical came out with a generic and I’ll be taking that.
With a decrease in my meds, from 1.5 mg twice a week to 1.25 mg twice a week, my Prolactin dropped from 8.9 to 7.1 (2.1-17.7). My T is currently 706 (241-827) up from a low of (post-Androgel use) 36 (300 - 1000) that I adjust to 29 (for the 241-827 scale … I really don’t know how accurate that is). The more common (non-Androgel-influenced) low was 146 (300-1000) that I scale to 118 (241-827 … again, not sure of the accuracy.)
May 12, 2006 Notes:
My Dostinex was cut back to 1.25 mg twice a week in March. Blood was drawn on May 11. I had last had Dostinex on May 7 - so I was as far between doses as I get. From March 23rd to May 12 I dropped 11 pounds. Shirtless the gyno is spectacular and I expect to have it addressed fairly soon; I’d like to go swimming with my boys this summer.
Regarding my gyno, and I don’t mean to brag here, but if you go to:
http://www.webplastics.com/male.htm you’ll see some samples. I beat either of those guys.
March 23, 2006 Notes:
This blood was drawn Thursday morning before I had taken my Dostinex. I take Dostinex Sunday and Thursday - so this would have been at the tail end of Sunday’s meds (a true wordsmith would have said that better).
What do we know? Without any change in my meds my Prolactin continued to drop. It’s gone from 15.9 to 8.9 while I’ve been taking 1.5 mg twice a week.
I’ve dropped 20 pounds since October of 04. I’ve dropped 16 pounds since October 05. Which gives me a loss of 4 pounds for the period of time between Oct 04 and Oct 05. Roughly speaking, I dropped 60 pounds the first year, 40 the second, and 20 the last 1.3 years; 16 the past five months.
Even though I lost just four pounds over a 12-month period I did drop several pants sizes. I wish I would have kept track of that.
The weight is important as I thought my problem, back several years ago, might be weight related. Also, for the longest time, no matter what I tried I couldn’t lose any weight, and what I did lose came back far too easy. Lately I just accept the fact that tomorrow when I wake up I’ll be just a bit smaller than I was today.
I met with a plastic surgeon in November to discuss gyno surgery.
*** Notes from October 05 and before ***
What’s New (from the post 4 months back): I’ve been taking 1.5 mg Dostinex twice a week since February 2004 - in other words, the last 5 blood tests. My meds haven’t changed but my condition continues to improve.
My weight hasn’t changed enough to mention. I continue to go to the gym. I have dropped a pants size. I assume I have a bit more muscle. I guess that would make sense.
I put this together to track my progress and thought I'd post it just in case it would be of interest to others. I don’t think I’m fascinating -- I just know that when I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me I read everything I could find. Maybe this will help someone.
Regular readers of the group will know that I have trouble being concise; in keeping with that tradition a boatload of text follows.
In July of 2001 I found I had low Testosterone: 147 ng/dL (scale 300 to 1000). Without doing any additional bloodwork my Primary Care Physician prescribed Androgel (Sep 2001). I don't recall the dosage - it was one packet, which I believe is 5 grams. After a month my T had climbed to 350. I can't say my sex drive went through the roof, but there were times during the day that I could feel "stirrings" for no reason - not I-need-to-have-sex-NOW! stirrings ... just something new going on. I told the doc I really didn't notice a big increase in my sex drive. He upped my prescription to 1.5 packs of Androgel. I applied it for two more weeks and quit as I hadn't felt I'd adequately researched the problem.
I thought some of my problem might be my weight. I weighed something over 360 and thought that being fat might cause low T. In January I started going to the gym and made a great effort to drop some weight. At some point I picked up Lou Schuler's "The Testosterone Advantage Plan," and tried to improve my condition through diet and exercise. FWIW, Schuler makes no claims that diet and exercise will cause dramatic leaps in Testosterone levels such as I needed. Likewise, obesity can affect T levels but, again, probably not to the extent I was being affected by something.
I had a physical on June 7, 2002. I went in feeling pretty good. I felt I had more muscle mass (even though I was still a big fat guy), as I was stronger and as I said, I'd been paying more attention to what I ate.
The doc did some blood work. And the results: My cholesterol dropped
to 187 (from 199) and my Testosterone dropped to 36 (that is not a
typo: 36) on a scale of 300 to 1000 being normal. This would have been 11 months after I'd been diagnosed with low T and about 7 months after I'd discontinued use of Androgel (I started Androgel in September 2001 and used it for 6 weeks. So, I should have discontinued use by November. I don't have solid dates.)
Could Androgel use have caused my body to quit T production for more than 6 months? Was the test wrong?
My Primary Care Physician suggested I start Androgel again. I had stumbled across ASI and asked for the following bloodwork based on info found here: SHBG, FSH, Testosterone, Estradiol, Prolactin, TSH, LH, Free T, Total Estrogens and DHEA.
My PCP was initially reluctant to order the bloodwork. I can't really blame him; docs must get tired of patients coming in self-diagnosed based on things they see on TV. After I asked him how long he'd been my doctor ("A long time," he said) and how often I came in ("Hardly ever") he consented. My T came in at 146 (300-1000) and my Prolactin 56.2 (1.6-18.8). So, a month after I had a reading of 36 I'd rebounded to my pre-Androgel levels. Again, was the 36 test wrong? Was it just a timing thing?
Following the T reading of 36 I'd made an appointment to see an Endocrinologist; the appointment was set 3 months out and I asked to be put on a cancellation list. I got a call from the endo's staff just a day or two after the above bloodwork was done. (The July 02 and August 02 bloodwork are about a week apart.) I was able to see the endo in 6-weeks time rather than the original 3 months.
The endo ordered an MRI; I had the MRI in August and received the results 9/3/02. It turned up two small (3 and 5 mm) tumors on my pituitary gland. (During a later appointment my endo would tell me that while ("whilst," for some of our international readers) the tumors were certainly the cause of my high prolactin, he wasn't certain they were prolactin-secreting tumors; he would expect my prolactin to be higher if they were. In other posts I've stated I had 'very high' prolactin. Well, I've since run across folks with much higher prolactin levels than I have. So, mine are just high while theirs are ungodly high ('wicked' high for the New Englanders.)) I remember my weight at this time being 354 as the table-weight for the MRI was 350 … the tech put me on the table, but the fit was going to be such that I was eventually sent to an open MRI. (As an aside, on TV an MRI normally takes about as long as a commercial for Chevy Trucks. The guy goes into the MRI. You see a truck commercial. The guy comes out. In real life they are 30 minutes or so. I guess it wouldn't make for good TV to show the whole thing. And yet, Wife Swap is still on. Go figure.)
My endo prescribed Parlodel (Bromocriptine) on 9/3/02. I took it at bedtime - 1/2 pill for the first two weeks and increasing to a full pill after that. Pills were 2.5 mg. Dosage was doled out like this to help the body adjust and avoid any side affects.
During the time I was on Bromocriptine I forgot, twice, to take the dose at bedtime and instead took it the next morning. I had a bit of nervousness and light-headedness both times. Nothing that would keep me from taking it during the day again - just enough so that I knew something was different.
November 6, 2002 I had my first visit to the endo after starting Bromocriptine. My T had gone up to 138 (241-827) and my Prolactin had dropped to 38 (2.1 -17.7) My endo doubled the Bromocriptine (from 2.5 to 5 mg nightly).
In December 2002 (12/18/02) I started taking Dostinex. I was started on 1/2 pill (.25mg) and eased up to a full pill (.5mg) in order to allow my body to adjust to the medicine and to minimize side affects. I would take (and continue to take) Dostinex twice a week.
According to: http://www.pfizer.com/download/uspi_dostinex.pdf
dosage should start at .25 mg twice a week and may be increased up to 1 mg twice a week according to the patient's serum prolactin level. I currently take 1.5 mg twice a week, so I'm a bit past the norm. Another site I visited suggested a person's body weight may affect the dose of Dostinex needed.
The PDF referenced above lists several adverse reactions that may occur. Twice while taking Dostinex I developed nausea and in both cases thought I was getting the flu. Shortly after the flu thought passed through my mind I remembered that I'd had Dostinex earlier and that I might be having a reaction to the medicine. I was right in both cases; the flu never hit. I haven't had a negative reaction of any sort in well over a year.
In previous postings I remarked that despite the fact I had low T I didn't seem to suffer from any of the conditions associated with it aside from low libido. Looking back, that was not the case.
ED:
I mentioned early on that I didn't have ED. That was not the case. I had sex so infrequently that I didn't notice. Any performance issues I had when having sex (and I had them) I attributed to other factors (stress, being tired, etc.).
Depression:
I certainly had depression. I didn't recognize it until it was mostly over. I probably still have some. The gyno is enough to cause it.
Weight Gain:
Let's face it people, Ethiopians with hormone disorders don't balloon up to 370 pounds. I've got to admit I had some fun putting a bit of the weight on. It did seem that I went from 330 to 360 almost overnight though, without any big lifestyle changes. And actually, after 308 I sort of lose track of things (I was in a 30-and-over basketball league at 308). When I started trying to lose weight I found it very hard to do and impossible to keep off. I had dropped to 354 for my first MRI (8/02) and was at 370 in December. (That is not a solid 370. We have a medical scale at work that goes to 350. With some measuring I figured that pushing both weights on the scale to their limits equaled 363 lbs. When I stepped on the scale I 'judged' that the speed with which the weighing mechanism moved to its upper limit - and the accompanying thud it made - equaled about 7 pounds. And 370 is easier to remember than 368.) What I do know about my weight is that just under two years after starting Dostinex, I've lost 101 pounds.
Life in General:
I lacked a "lust for life," as another poster said. I was sort of blah about a lot of things. If you've listened to the Testosterone episode of This American Life I was sort of like the guy in the first segment. He suggests that while he was blah, there was a peace that came with it. Our experiences are different in that he didn't have three small children to look after and his significant other lived out of state and visited only on weekends. He realizes his experiences differ from the vast majority of others with his problem.
His comment "it doesn't matter if you have nothing, if you want nothing," is reminiscent of a something I used to say: Not having sex when you don't want sex sure beats the pants of being 18 and wanting sex all the time and not being able to get it.
You may be allele to listen to a Real Audio recording of the above at:
http://207.70.82.73/pages/descriptions/02/220.html
If not you can buy it at www.audible.com for $3.95.
Gynecomastia:
I've got a nice case. It only gets better (that is, more noticeable) as I get thinner. I will have to have this corrected surgically.
How did I miss the warning signs?:
Well, aside from the weight gain I didn't recognize any outward signs. And the weight I attributed to other things. Inability to lose weight I thought was age-related. I had never heard that men could have low-testosterone problems so it was nothing I considered. I thought the gyno was fat-guy-flabby-chest.
I realized I didn't enjoy things as much as I used to, but thought it was stress and would eventually get better.
I compare the whole episode to buying new tennis shoes. Each day you wear your sneakers they break down a little bit and don't feel as good as they did the day before. But, the breakdown is so gradual that you don't notice. At some point you buy new shoes and when you put them on your realize just how much better they feel than the old shoes do - not that you ever noticed the old shoes feeling bad.
I don't recall going to bed one night feeling great and waking up the next day not feeling great. At the time my problem was developing I had three little boys, and for years (literally) neither my wife nor I were getting much sleep. One of us would sleep in on Saturday, the other on Sunday; those were our catch-up days. When the time came that everybody was sleeping through the night - my wife and I included - I probably felt better than I had, but not as well as I should have. I just didn't notice.
Now that I feel better, I can see just how bad I felt.
Today -- Overall I think I handle day-to-day life better. I think I enjoy things more. I feel more relaxed.
I may still have some ED. I don't know. And it may be caused as much by my mental state as anything else right now. I am recently divorced (Isn't that how life goes … just as your bloodwork starts coming back better, your test facility divorces you. <- Yes, I've made that joke here before. But, I like it.), and, like I said the gyno is a bummer.
Dostinex vs Bromocriptine:
Bromocriptine did almost nothing for me. I've read other posts in which is it very effective. I've not had an adverse reaction to either Bromocriptine or Dostinex past those noted above - and none were severe enough to warrant concern.
I paid $7.00 for each prescription of Bromocriptine. Depending on the number of pills I received, my insurance paid between $46.99 (30 tablets) and $98.74 for 60 tablets. About $1.76 per tablet.
I pay $45.00 monthly for Dostinex. My insurance, for 25 tablets, pays $730. The cost per pill is $31.00.
Kroger was kind enough to print out my prescriptions covering my Dostinex and Bromocriptine. Thus far my insurance carrier and I have paid $13,616 for both medicines. Mostly Dostinex. Mostly my insurance carrier. (Going back to August 2002) [Today is 10/19/05: If that figure was current 4 months ago then it would now be closer to $16,500)
Below are links to some of the posts I found helpful. When I found I had low T I read through everything I could find. Even the things that would eventually turn out to not apply to my situation contained a lot of helpful info.
In cases where I reference a post I made, my questions aren't as helpful as the answers provided. As you Google the Groups click the Complete Thread link to see the replies associated with the link below. (The link I provide is shorter than that that brings up the entire string of related posts)
T, Obesity and Ramblings (My first post to ASI)
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=ps9rjukkp6svgdni16qn6kjgt9s952oqgs%404ax.com
Sin Loi's (our current Muerta) post responsible for the 'lost lust for life' comment
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=9ffQ8.86805%24nZ3.39237%40rwcrnsc53
Another poster with pituitary tumors - prolactin as high as 166
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=tqumnuo1o89jjusgl5ms9f3ji961u8mlck%404ax.com
David Zolt has a series of primers that can be found in Google Groups. There are 7. Google the Groups using the following string - change the 1 to 2 through 7 to find them all:
david zolt + "1 of 7" group:alt.support.impotence
Sometimes I feed the trolls. But just for fun. Someone in the group once pointed out that you got to have a sense of humor when your Dick doesn't work. This is one of my favorites. (Is it in poor form to think the things you say are funny?)
http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=en&lr=&selm=b060d4fb.0404271144.19cca16a%40posting.google.com
Don't forget to pick up a copy of Dr. Eugene Shippen's book, "The Testosterone Syndrome." Available at Amazon.com
Posted by delmer at 7:00 PM | Comments (0)
October 27, 2006
Call Me Mello Jell-O
Let's see. We've talked about the Jell-O Bath Idea. The Jell-O Bath Hurdles that would need to be overcome. And we've had some background on the nice girls from (almost) next door.
I'm not sure exactly how we reached the end of the following story so it may be fictionalized a bit. But, it's what we're going to go with.
Alan and I were at the girls' apartment and, I want to say, he asked how the Jell-O bath project was going.
Lisa and Big Carol were in the room. Big Carol, I think (as much to give her a speaking part as anything else) asked what the Jell-O Bath project was. Lisa may have made the inquiry.
I explained the idea of filling a bathtub with Jell-O and then climbing into it. When asked why I'd want to do something like that I further explained that I wouldn't want to do it alone, I'd have a girl with me.
"I'll get in with you," said Lisa. And she said it so fast, in such a way, and I knew so much about how she was, that I knew she didn't understand exactly what I was talking about.
"What do you think we'd be wearing in a Jell-O bath?" I asked. (The being a guy part of me, while trying to keep a low profile, couldn't be held totally back. So there was that small, hopeful, bit of me that thought maybe we were on the same Jell-O bath page.)
"Bathing suits," she said as if there could be no other possible answer.
Right now you're thinking well, that was the end of that.
I encourage you to tune in Monday.
(I wish I could look back in time to that moment when Lisa said, "I'll get in with you" because I'd swear the conversation was more, "We'll" (both girls) "get in with you." But every time I hear that conversation in my mind it's accompanied by a really bad jazz soundtrack.)
Posted by delmer at 11:21 PM | Comments (0)
October 26, 2006
Despite the Content -- This is Still About the Jell-O Bath
I lived in an apartment complex several blocks away from my friend Alan. Between our apartments was that of The Girls. The Girls actually lived in two apartments and collectively were: Big Carol, Little Carol, Big Vicky, Little Vicky, Diane, Lisa, and another woman whose name I forget (and I really feel bad about forgetting as Alan and I spent a lot of time at the girls' apartment).
It should be noted that Big Carol was an average sized girl, Little Carol was on the petite side, Little Vicky was average sized and Big Vicky was on the plus edge of things.
Lisa, Diane, and The Other Girl all seemed about the right size for their names but, as they were just a sample of one, it's hard to know.
Our story will focus primarily -- well, only -- on the apartment made up of Lisa, Big Carol, and The Other Girl. I believe Diane lived with them as well but, people, this was a long time ago.
They were all on cuties, pleasant, and tolerant of Alan and me.
If I had daughters I would want them to grow up as I believe Carol, Lisa, The Other Girl and Diane, did. Not necessarily sheltered, but not so worldly that it would make a father worry too much about what his daughter was up to. It was not uncommon for me or Alan to say something that would make Lisa turn bright red and start fanning herself with her hand. And it isn't like we were doing Lenny Bruce material.
Alan and I were harmless as far as boys went -- certainly by The Girls' standards anyway. About once a week we'd find ourselves in the girls' apartment in the evening, having a beer or two, and watching television with them. When they got tired they'd all go up to their bedrooms and ask us to lock up when we left. (Lisa and I had briefly, and casually, dated earlier in the year, but by this time we were all buddies.)
So. What do we need to take away from this?
Which made what happened all the more surprising.
Posted by delmer at 12:38 AM | Comments (1)
October 25, 2006
Continuing Saga of the Jell-O Bath
You never realize just how little you know about Jell-O until you decide to fill a bathtub full of the stuff.
Some of the things I had to consider when planning the Jell-O bath were:
How many gallons of water did the typical early-80's bathtub hold? At the time of the Jell-O bath experiment I lived in a small college town. There wasn't a Lowe's and Home Depot on every corner (not like today -- I'm fewer than 10 miles away from three Lowe's and three Home Depots.) so, finding out how many gallons of water I'd need to mix Jell-O for wasn't going to be as easy as making a trip to the corner hardware store. Some engineering friends from the University of Cincinnati volunteered to do the math for this item. (The average tub, these days, holds about 30 gallons of water. At the time, by eyeballing it, I thought a tub was about 50 gallons.)
What was it likely to cost? Like I said, considering what it is -- a fine, colored powder -- Jell-O was sort of expensive on a college budget for the quatity I thought I might need. The fact that it is magic ... it goes from a powder to a liquid and then a solid AND THEN stays a solid ... made it cooler, but no less expensive. According to some research I just conducted, it looks like you add one cup of boiling water and one cup of cold water to a 4-serving package of Jell-O. That 4-serving package currently costs 99 cents.
Or, a dollar for two cups of Jell-O in 2007 dollars. There are 16 cups in a gallon. So, Jell-O costs $8.00 a gallon. A thirty-gallon tub would cost $240.00 to fill. If two bodies displace 15 gallons of water you drop the cost to $120.00. At the time I thought a tub was 50 gallons -- but I still thought bodies would displace about 1/2, taking us down to about 25 gallons of Jell-O. Now we're back to $200.00, which is more than I'd spend to fill a tub with Jell-O.
But! We're talking 2007 dollars here. I don't recall what Jell-O cost in the early '80s, but we'll say half of what it cost today, or about $100. Which is more than I would have spent then. (Even spreading the cost out over several months.)
What we need to consider here is that a package of Jell-O yields two cups of a tasty, gelatin treat. I didn't need tasty. I needed a tub full of something sort of solid to squish around in. I had a feeling Jell-O could be diluted a bit more than the instructions suggested and still produce the results I desired. Experimentation revealed that a package of Jell-O could be mixed with four cups of water and still produce good results.
How would you get it to set up in a tub? Ice cubes. Prior to the Jell-O bath experiment I didn't know you could add ice cubes to the mix and get it to set up without the use of a fridge.
Tomorrow we fill a tub! Or maybe the next day ... maybe tomorrow we find a volunteer.
Posted by delmer at 3:43 PM | Comments (5)
October 24, 2006
There's Always Room for Jell-O
I'm not sure where I got the idea for the Jell-O bath.
This was back in 1981 or 1982, so it isn't like I got the idea off the Internet. Mud is so much easier to put together for wrestling events featuring scantily-clad women -- and mud sticks better so, it would seem to be a better thing to have women wrestle in if, you know, you were hoping to attract a bunch of guys to watch women wrestle in something. And mud just looks hotter on a woman -- sort of clingy, whereas Jell-O would bead up and roll off. The point being, that it isn't like I was driving around and saw a big sign for Jell-O wrestling.
So, I didn't get it from the Internet. Not from some sort of ad featuring Jell-O wrestling. Most likely not from any Kraft Foods literature (but who knows?).
Anyway, at some point I thought putting together a Jell-O bath would be a good idea. In all fairness, I thought it would be a great idea. (And this was back in the day before bitchin' and kick-ass were used to describe ideas ... so great was about as good as it got.)
And, naturally, being a guy in my early 20's, I thought I would be an even better idea to have female companionship while in the tub of Jell-O. After all, a guy in a bathtub full of Jell-O is just odd; a guy and a girl in a tub of Jell-O is, well, the type of thing a blog entry is made of.
So, I started collecting Jell-O. I couldn't buy a big bunch all at once as it's kind of expensive -- or it seemed expensive at the time -- so I'd get a packet or several each time I was at the Oxford Kroger.
I was buying Lime flavored. I don't remember why. I don't think it was a flavor-related thing -- eating the Jell-O was never part of the larger plan.
We'll stop there for today.
(I know that seems like an abrupt stop, but as I typed this, I sort of heard that last line -- eating the Jell-O was never part of the larger plan -- being read with a bit of a thoughtful pause applied to it. As if it were something that, while extremely obvious, still needed to be said. If you failed to apply a thoughtful pause to that line, I suggest you go back and give it another read. Your day will feel more complete for it.)
Posted by delmer at 4:31 PM | Comments (0)
October 23, 2006
Summer Photos Recap II
Following yesterday's lead, some more photos:
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
I live, had a car show this summer.
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
Posted by delmer at 12:12 AM | Comments (4)
October 22, 2006
Summer Photos Recap
It is crappy outside today. Cold, dreary and looking like rain. My back aches as a result of something I did the other day and I generally lack motivation to get much done. So, I'm watching the Sentinel and organizing some photos on my hard drive.
Oh. And this morning I weighed 220 pounds. Which puts my loss at 150 for those of you keeping score at home. If you are new here, please take a look at the entries in the Hormones category before you make any assumptions about any serious weight loss secrets I might posses. Believe me, no weight-loss congratulations are needed.
Now some photos. Give them a click for enlarged versions.
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
 (2).JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
Well ... the Sentinel is over. It never did rain. My back still aches, but I'm going to try to walk the pain off.
Posted by delmer at 12:05 PM | Comments (2)
October 21, 2006
Hooters in Hilliard
Hooters is open. I dropped in last night for dinner. I had a grilled chicken salad, ten wings, two and a half Amber Bocks, and five or six Diet Cokes.
The women were all young. Well, I suppose at least 21 as they were all pouring beer.
I had my Palm TX with me and spent the hour I was there reading the NY Times, Columbus Dispatch and the last bit of a book I'd loaded into it.
I tried to look around and take in the scenery, but, I have a problem ogling women that I'm old enough to be the father of.
Hooters was festive. It was packed. There were families with young children with them. The salad was good. The wings were not the best I've ever had.
It was loud. Too loud to have a conversation I think. Of course, I was right at the bar sitting under the speakers, it may have been a bit quieter in the back.
While I was there I heard Some Day Some Way by Marshall Crenshaw. I haven't heard that in ages. The rest of the music was made up of things I knew and loved.
I'm sure I'll go back. I need to give the wings another chance.
Just this second: I found a piece of something on my keyboard. It didn't look like peanut butter, but, as I'd just eaten a peanut butter sandwich that was about all it could have been. So, I stuck it in my mouth. It was soap. Prior to the sandwich I'd taken a shower and had run the bar of soap over my watchband ... which then transfered a fleck of soap to my computer ... which I then transferred to my mouth with my finger.
Posted by delmer at 11:52 PM | Comments (3)
October 20, 2006
A new McDonald's Character
The boys and I were at McDonald's having our typical Friday breakfast. They were seated as I remained at the counter waiting for the rest of our order to be filled.
An older and, I'd soon learn, gruff guy stepped up to place his order; he'd brought a travel mug in with him for a coffee refill. A young guy that I recognized but who didn't normally work the counter during breakfast was manning the register.
I didn't hear the whole order, just this part:
Young guy: That'll be $2.49
Gruff man: How much?
YG: $2.49
GM: No! $2.29.
YG (signaling toward the travel mug): What size mug is that?
GM: It doesn't matter. I'm giving you $2.29. I'm in here every day ... (and then I quit listening.)
Now. What has happened is that the gruff man is in there often. And all the while he's been coming in, since he's a regular, they've been cutting him some slack with his coffee purchase. The new guy didn't know that and charged the regular price. The gruff man doesn't care he's been undercharged in the past -- he's all about the 20 cents he thinks he's being overcharged now.
Or, and this is just as likely, the young guy just made a mistake.
After taking our food to the table I noticed I'd ordered everything except my Egg McMuffin.
I went back to the counter, which was still manned by the young guy. "I need to order an Egg McMuffin," I said. "And I'll gladly pay any price you ask."
(Then we both had a can you believe that guy chuckle.)
As they boys and I were leaving the Running Man was coming in.
Posted by delmer at 9:10 PM | Comments (2)
October 19, 2006
The Skate Park and Denim
Several weeks ago the boys and I went to Target and did some jeans shopping. We shopped like men -- we grabbed a couple pair we thought would fit ... tried on each pair until we found the best fitting pair ... and we left.We didn't pose in mirrors. We didn't ask each other if this pair of jeans made our asses look fat.
The jeans all went home and were put on hangers. Weeks passed.
Yesterday we decided to go to the Dublin Skate Park again.
In preparation for the trip Jack took the new jeans off the hanger and put them on. I watched as he pulled the tags off.
In the skate park picture you'll notice, at right about the middle of the picture, a ramp that goes down and then out to the right. It looks smooth, doesn't it? And it is pretty smooth. It's probably the perfect surface to roll a skateboard down.
It's not so good on denim.
Jack now has a pair of jeans that look 95% brand new. Five percent -- the right butt cheek 5% -- looks much older. About 10% of that 5% looks holey. At least it did until I took a needle and thread to it.
Why didn't I stop Jack from sliding down the slope? Because, as he sat there with his legs over the edge I new he wasn't going to slide. I wouldn't slide down that. It looks scary. It looks like a bad idea. But mostly scary.
I had totally forgotten that the being afraid of things like steep slopes, the edges of high rock formations, and friendly brunettes gene, doesn't turn on in a young man's mind until his mid-twenties.
Posted by delmer at 7:50 AM | Comments (6)
October 18, 2006
Post Ride Meat Fest
The morning before I took the 90-mile trip on The Mighty Schwinn (Come all without, come all within. You'll not see nothing like The Mighty Schwinn) I found myself at Kroger. Which more or less caught me off guard as I hadn't realized I was lost. Unlike now, when, in between typing "The morning before" and "I found myself" I've totally forgotten where I was going with this.
Rats. I went to Kroger ... I bought some Clif Bars ...
Here we are.
For the post-ride celebratory meal I decided I'd pass on pizza. Pre-ride I wasn't sure how far I'd go and, therefore, had no idea if I would deserve any type of celebratory food. I certainly didn't want to woof down a medium pizza if I'd only pedaled 50 miles or so. And, by god, I wasn't going to have an individual sized chicken pizza if I'd gone anywhere over 40 miles.
I don't normally eat a lot of hamburger. I love it, and I don't think anything beats a cheeseburger ... the greasier the better -- McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King, the ones my mom cranks out -- they're all good. I just don't eat that many burgers with or without cheese.
I decided that a burger would be a good thing to eat post ride. And not just any burger -- Black Angus burgers.
Alas. The boxes of pre-formed Black Angus burger pattys were not to be found (I've found them since, they've been moved to a stand-up freezer if you're wondering.) I started looking at the other meats.
I knew I wasn't going to eat a lot of hamburger so the two-pound pre-tubed hamburger was going to be too much. Sure, I could have gone to the counter and ordered a half pound, or whatever, but that required taking a number, standing around, and listening to some gal bitch about the choices of cheeses available. And regular hamburger isn't really special at all. Is it? Kick-ass good, for sure, but special? Nah.
I strolled past veal. Veal? Baby cow? That's sort of special and is really just one step removed from eating something I'd killed while riding The Mighty Schwinn. (Have I mentioned: I like to go just like the rest, I like my sugar sweet, but jumping queues and making haste, just ain't my cup of meat.) It was something like $3.50 a pound. I was sold.
And! Bonus of bonuses! Not only was it veal ... it was antibiotic and steroid free! Good Lord. This might be the best post-ride celebratory meal ever!
Blah blah blah. I rode 90 miles. Yada yada yada. I fired up the grill.
I don't know if it was the age of the cow when it was slaughtered. Maybe it hadn't had time to do any real living, create any life experiences, absorb any earthly grittiness. Maybe it was the lack of steroids. Maybe the lack of antibiotics. But, this was the most tasteless chunk of meat ever. Maybe it wasn't greasy enough.
I approach grilling as if the flames shooting up from the burners work to keep the grilling surfaces sterile. That is, I don't really clean the grill. Ever. This meat was so tasteless that its lack of taste totally defeated the residual tastes left by every other thing I've grilled this year.
It was very sad.
Next time I'm having pizza.
Is it just me? Quinn's selling weed? Right?
Posted by delmer at 7:00 AM | Comments (2)
October 17, 2006
iRide
For the recent 90-mile ride I tried something new. I ordered a pair of iRide Speakers for the bike. They're small, powered speakers that mount to the bicycle handlebars. I clipped them into their bracket and turned them on outside of London. They were surprisingly audible; I was afraid wind noise would drown them out, but I could hear them just fine and actually had to turn them down a little bit.
They certainly worked as advertised.
I had to turn them off after about an hour as they were irritating me. Not the speakers so much, the music. And not my choice of music -- it's the stuff I listen to when I stroll and I never have a problem with it.
I don't know how to describe the condition I suffer from, though, again, I'm sure it was no fault of the speakers.
I seem to be unable to listen to music through PC-speaker quality speakers for any length of time. I don't know if it's the sound quality or something else. Up until this bike-ride experience I thought it had something to do with trying to work while music was playing and having my attention divided between two things. When I ran across this I thought it might be the answer. And maybe it is ... or something similar.
When I'm in my garage I often have a cheap radio on. I never have a problem.
With earbuds I never have a problem.
PC speakers while I'm working irritate me if they go on too long.
PC-type speakers on the bike irritate me if they go on too long.
Classical music anytime, anywhere, doesn't bother me. And I'm not talking Led Zepplin here, I mean Mozart and Jimmy Dorsey; you know, the really old stuff. (OK. Just Mozart and his cronies.)
I'm not giving the speakers a bad review. They worked better than I expected. They were loud enough that I had to turn them down. They didn't keep me from hearing traffic noise (such as it was) so I'm sure I would have been safer than with ear buds. They mounted easily enough and remained out of the way on the bike. I really have no complaints about them and have no problem recommending them to someone interested in having a little music on as they ride.
I'm going to use them again on my next long ride. I've got several hours of podcasts I'm going to listen to. We'll see how that goes.
Posted by delmer at 6:13 PM | Comments (0)
October 16, 2006
The 90
Last Sunday the Central Ohio temperature rose to something like 75 degrees F. It was beautiful, crisp and clear. (And, when I say last Sunday, I expect you to know that I mean October 8. Had I meant October 15, I would have said yesterday.)
I set out on the Mighty Schwinn with the goal of putting somewhere between 50 and 100 miles on the bike. In all honesty, I figured I'd hit 75. In the end I'd do 90. 
The 90 I did were harder on me than the 102 I'd made just a couple of weeks before. I'm pretty sure my eating habits played a big role in this.
During the 100: I stopped a lot during the first 70 miles to check my map. Every 30 to 45 minutes I'd eat something or drink some Gatorade. At the end of the trip I'd had four bottles of Gatorade, four big bottles (maybe more) of water, four Clif bars, I'd eaten (and had additional fluids) at the KFC in London, Ohio, and a couple hours later I'd eaten (and the fluids thing again) in Mechanicsburg, Ohio. I'd also had an ice cream cone in there somewhere. (Let's not forget the pre-ride breakfast at Mel's Diner.)
During the 90: I had a better idea about where I was going and didn't stop as much. I know this sounds odd, but time passes quickly on the bike and you can blow past a snack point rather easily. Blow by too many and your body starts to run out of things it needs. I finished the second Gatorade on the trip home -- right around mile 75. I didn't have the restaurant stop in Mechanicsburg -- I just really really really wanted to get home by the time I rolled through there. (I started the day at Mel's.)
On th the 90 I took a wrong turn, as is customary, but realized it in short order. Not that I turned back to undo it -- that would mean seeing things I'd already seen. I plunged on. Plunged on? [That hit's hit the ear funny ... just a moment ago (a day after this post) I noticed that typo; it hit the eyes funny)] I kept going knowing I'd somehow end up in London. Thirty minutes later, as I passed Van Wagner on Rt. 56 I had the feeling that somehow I might end up in Mt. Sterling (I used to live there and would drive to London on 56.)
If you Yahoo Map the distance from London to Mt. Sterling, you'd notice it doesn't look like all that much. You'd also notice, had you been out there with me, that I was pretty close to London before I took the wrong turn on 56; that turn came where Big Plain Circleville Rd. and 56 intersect. The preceding wrong turn can't be seen on the map but I should have ended up at Spring Valley and 665. If you zoomed in close enough -- and there's no reason to do so -- you'd see Moorman and some other tiny, country roads that I used to eventually circle back to 56 right at the intersection where the big 56 marker on the map is just SE of London.
Enough of that -- sorry, I got carried away.
While I was making my way to London I passed the building at the top of this entry. It is either an old school or an old church. Old, one-room school houses aren't that hard to come by in Ohio. Take a drive out through the country and you are almost guaranteed to drive past one that has been converted into a home or a barn. There's one about a 1/3 of a mile from me in the Historical Village in Old Hilliard. That one may have been moved to the historical village as there's another pretty close to that one -- within a quarter mile probably -- and while it isn't uncommon for huge, budget-busting, high schools to be placed within a mile of each other these days, way back when people had more sense, fewer dollars, and less need for intra-city sports rivalries, it just didn't happen. (Okay ... it's a bit more than a mile. But not much.)
Most old school houses, that I've seen, anyway, don't have the belfry, which leads me to believe this is a church. Though, I don't know why you'd ring a bell here for any reason. There were a couple of houses close by but these were certainly built after this church/school fell into disuse. It doesn't look like anybody lived close enough to this building to hear a bell ringing.
(Then again, I've had my bells rung a couple of times and I image people could year me yelp miles away when it's happened.)
The Ohio fall harvest appears to be in full swing. There's nothing to worry about. We've soybeans for everyone and enough corn to keep your livestock happy.
(It's plugged on, isn't it. Which is kind of the opposite of plunging)
Posted by delmer at 8:25 AM | Comments (0)
October 15, 2006
Skate Park
The boys wanted to go to the skate park. As I'm all about being outside and being active it I thought it sounded like an OK idea.
But, as I'm not a big fan on the type of person I thought a skate park might attract, I wasn't as keen on it as I might have been.
The boys wanted to take their friends, Alex and Evan. I thought this was a fine idea as well. Alex and Evan are good boys. I hadn't seen Evan in a while and I was pretty sure it was time for him to hear me tell him he needed a haircut.
We went to the Dublin Skate Park.
Let me start over.
Haydn called Evan after our noon to 2 p.m. football game and after the 2:45 to 3:45 soccer game. The boys had previously talked about going to the skate park with Evan's dad ... he had become ill and the boys asked me to drive. So, with like 10-seconds notice, I was chaperoning the skate park event.
We arrived sometime before 5 p.m. The boys skateboarded. I read.
Initially there were just a few kids there. Late teens by my reckoning. Maybe some early 20's. More people came. Some people left. A kid showed up on a bike, made a trip down into the clover leaf, popped up on the other side doing a spin, landed backwards and came so close to losing it that ... well, it was really cool.
All went well for a while.
Then a hoodlum -- you know, the kind of kid you hung around with when you were younger ... probably nice enough, but someone who just gets a bad idea once in a while ... if you hung around with me right now you'd be thinking 'Mike' or even 'Roy' if he was all Mountain Dew'd up -- started throwing walnuts. These walnuts still had the hard, green outside on them giving them a good deal more mass.
Another hoodlum joined in. They were throwing walnuts at their buddy across the skate park in the parking lot. They hit him and his car -- a red Firebird. The buddy moved the car out of range, got out, and, though he never seemed genuinely angry, started cursing a blue streak about the fuckers throwing walnuts and what pieces of shit they were.
My kids go to Catholic school so I'm pretty sure they hear 'fuckers' and 'piece of shit' on the playground almost daily. Unless of course they have a substitute teacher doing the playground monitoring that day and she's unfamiliar with how to correctly call Catholic children in from recess.
You know, if you ding a guy's car I can understand one or two 'fuckers' and a 'piece of shit' or two coming out in a moment of excitement. Then I expect you to look around, realize that there are kids there (and not just mine), and reel your tongue in.
Walnuts were still flying. The young guy was still cursing. He was wearing a maroon sweatshirt.
I got my phone out and prepared to call the Dublin PD. I'm not a big police caller, but I've had officers tell me that sometimes it's good if thugs know that the police may just happen along. Without even thinking I'd dialed 411 ... and I mean without thinking ... when I looked down at the phone I saw 911 and thought to myself this isn't an emergency, I need the non-emergency number. I looked again and saw it was 411.
Rather than roll the police I decided it was time to go. "Hey," I shouted, "You fuckers and pieces of shit. Get in the van! It's time to go. No!, not you, you walnut-throwing sunuvabithch, just the kids that came with me."
OK. I strolled over to my kids and gave them the come here wave and said, "It's time to go."
And my kids argued with me. Me! The guy who had, on a moments notice, taken them to the skate park. We'd been there almost 90 minutes and as we drove away all I heard was, "I was just getting ready to ..."
"Well," I pointed out, "You had 90 minutes to do that, next time get on it a little sooner." I went on to explain that I was unhappy with the language being used and the walnut throwing. Haydn said he'd been hit once, but it was an accident and the thug had apologized to him.
(Alex and Evan were complaint free, by the way.)
We dropped Alex and Evan off and headed toward home. The boys asked if we could drive by the Hilliard Skate Park and look it over. I know, I know I know, based on the earlier bitching it would be easy enough to say they boys didn't deserve to go to the skate park, but our other option was to go home and watch TV; I'd rather they be outdoors. So we went.
We'd been there two minutes -- all alone -- when I noticed another guy had showed up. It was the Running Man. No, it was the guy who'd been cursing in Dublin.
Or, it looked like him. I wasn't sure. I looked over at the parking lot and there was a red Firebird there but I didn't notice any walnut damage. After two minutes the guy hadn't yelled 'fuckers' or 'pieces of shit' and I started doubting it was him. I mean, after all, at my age all hoodlums look the same. This guy also had on a brown sweatshirt with some writing on it, not a maroon one ... it may have said "Eat me you fucking piece of shit" on it but I was too far away to know for sure. It could have said "Rolling Stones."
The boys skateboarded without incident. On the way home Haydn pointed that the guy that showed up was the same guy from Dublin and that he'd been kind enough to give my boys some tips.
Posted by delmer at 8:51 PM | Comments (1)
October 14, 2006
Saturday and the Party that Parenting Is
6:57: The alarm goes off. I roust the boys. Haydn informs me that he doesn't need to wear pads to today's football practice and I let the guys sleep until I'm done with my shower.
7:15: Boys are up and getting dressed. We leave for McDonald's around 7:30.
7:45: I have an Egg McMuffin, Haydn and Sam have Breakfast Burritos while Jack has pancakes. The boys take their Fruit and Yogurt Parfaits with them as we leave for Football Practice and a Soccer Game.
7:55: I drop Haydn off at Football at St. B.'s
8:04: Jack, Sam and I arrive at a different Catholic school six miles away.
8:15: The game begins. It's freakin' cold. Last week at this time it was working its way up to 75 degrees F. It is far too early to be sitting in the cold outside on a Saturday morning.
About 10 a.m.: The boys and I are at Kroger, shopping for groceries. I buy enough stuff to make chili and realize, that based on the recipe on Caroll Shebly's Chili Fixins, I'm going to have to throw out (or save in a container of some sort ... ha!) 8 ounces of tomato sauce. Rather than look for a smaller can I decide to double up on the hamburger and other stuff.
I forget to get beans of any sort and eventually substitute Van Camp's Baked Beans. The chili is incredible.
Noonish: Lunch
Afternoonish: Sammo and I take a walk (well, he rode his bike) to the Franklin County Fairgrounds and watch the horses run around the training track. The boys and I go to Jiffy Lube ... while the oil is getting changed we stroll next door to Dippin' Dots.
Evening: We go to see Click at the Dollar Theater. It is a lot better than I expect it to be. There is a sad part near the end that catches me off guard; as I sit there I can't help but think that Adam Sandler movies aren't supposed to make me tear up.
Five minutes ago: I realize I've written half this in present tense and half in past tense. I edit it so that the whole thing agrees tense-wise.
Just before I click Publish: I come to accept the fact that this is sort of a lame-ass entry. But, one of my children has just become unhappy to the point of tears -- as part of his twenty-four hour why can't I spend the night with Alex bitchfest -- and I need to go explain to him why parenting isn't always the party it appears to be.
Posted by delmer at 8:12 PM | Comments (1)
October 13, 2006
One More
Larry, Moe, and Curly, there were three brothers -- not just the two mentioned the last couple of days, were sitting on the couch in typical teenager and post-teenager fashion. That is, probably watching sports.
Their mother came down the steps and pointed out some of the guy's flaws.
"You boys sit around all day," she said, "Watching TV. Never helping with the housework ..."
The complaining sort of faded out as she headed toward the back of the house.
A moment later their sister came down the same steps. "You boys are useless. You sit around all day, watching television. You never help with the housework ..."
At which point, Larry looked up (I'm guessing there was a timeout on the field) and said, "What do we have here? Bitch and Rebitch?"
(Larry, Moe, and Curly do not need me to defend them. But if they did, I'd like to point out that they had a very big yard and I know it took a long time to mow it.)
Posted by delmer at 7:00 AM | Comments (0)
October 12, 2006
Vitamin Burps
This blog entry is rated R for language.
If you are easily offended, please turn back now.
Moe and Larry, the brothers mentioned yesterday, were driving along in Moe's car.
Larry looked toward Moe and said, exclaimed actually, something like, "What's that smell Moe? Did you just burp? It smells like you burped."
"No. I didn't burp. What do you think my burps smell like?"
"You know ... all vitaminey and shit."
(And that did make some sense. Moe was no stranger to the gym and it wasn't beyond him to throw down a handful of vitamins on a daily basis.)
A mile or two passed and Moe let loose with an ear-shattering belch.
"Since you're such an expert," Moe asked Larry, "what did that smell like."
Without missing a beat, and drawn out for emphasis, Larry said, "My c*ck."
Posted by delmer at 7:14 AM | Comments (1)
October 11, 2006
I can't judge stuff like that
We were all about 24 years old.
Moe, Larry and I were on our way to Chi Chi's. Moe and Larry, brothers, were sitting in the front seat as we drove.
When we turned into Chi Chi's Moe turned to Larry, "Larry. Go in there and see how long the wait is going to be."
Larry replied, "Moe, you know I can't judge shit like that."
Moe's voice took a turn as if he were explaining something to a six-year old. "When you go in there, there's going to be a girl standing behind a podium. All you have to do is ask her how long the wait is going to be ... and she'll tell you. Then all you have to do is judge whether or not she's lying to you." Moe stuck a finger in the corner of his mouth as if he were in thought. "Hmmmm ... I wonder if she's lying."
I was in tears. Thinking about it yesterday had me laughing and I'm laughing as I type. I hope it tells well.
I don't know if we ate at Chi Chi's or not that night.
Posted by delmer at 7:56 AM | Comments (4)
October 10, 2006
Mom's View of Jumping out of Planes
The jumping out of the plane adventure (this is the first entry ... work your way forward) was preceded by a, "Hey. I'm going parachuting" announcement to the family.
I thought my immediate family would want to know, so it seemed reasonable to tell them.
This had the unplanned effect of starting some world-class worrying on my mother's part. She didn't think it was a very good idea and told me as much many times. One day she came home from work and told me a story her boss had passed on to her. He had a friend who had jumped out of a plane and his parachute failed to open. The man, luckily, fell feet first into the Miami River where he plunged all the way to the bottom (I don't recall how deep the Miami River is). His boots split up the side. Two weeks later he had a nervous breakdown.
Well, I was in my early 20's, indestructible, and not about to let a story like this dissuade me. People were getting killed every day doing the same things that so many more people were doing and not getting killed. Besides, this guy had not gotten killed. Just horribly shaken up.
Still, it was a story worth pursuing; because it was interesting, if nothing else.
One day I was visiting mom at work and ran into the gentleman who had told her the story.
"Mr. Ruppert," I started, "mom says you had a friend who jumped out of a plane with a faulty parachute."
"Yes I did," he said. "It was just after World War II and he was testing parachutes for the army ... "
The rest of the story pretty much went the way mom told it. She'd just left out the first, small bit.
(By the way, he was jumping over the Miami River just in case something went wrong.)
Posted by delmer at 9:57 AM | Comments (2)
October 9, 2006
The Second Jump
Continuing last week's parachuting theme ...
I recall hearing, during the first parachuting experience, someone say that if a person could make three jumps they could turn it into a hobby. Three seemed to be the magic number.
Having taken the first jump, and the training that went along with it, I was able to jump again (and again and again etc.) without re-training. So long as I did it within a set amount of time which, I think, was six months.
And so, it was a set amount of time, I think six months, later that I found myself at Waynesville Airport. My sister went with me for moral support.
The second jump would cost $18.00 -- which I thought was very reasonable, even for 1982 prices.
I don't remember the jump master's name nor the name of the pilot. I do remember that the guys thought it would be OK if my sister went up with us and they were kind enough to strap a parachute on her back, just in case. (I'll bet things like that don't happen these days.)
Up we went.
"In the door," came the command, and I moved to the door.
"Out on the strut," came second and there I went.
"Go!." And I paused.
And then I let go. I arched my back, threw my arms out, and started counting. I may have hit one or two before the chute opened.
I could hear the jump master shout "yahooooo" as the plane motored off. I shouted back, "goooogle." (Well, maybe not.)
The guy on the ground with the radio started talking to me. "Turn right" he said.
I pulled on the right steering cord and turned right.
"Turn right," he said again.
I gave the cord another tug and turned a bit more right.
"You've not done one thing right the whole time you've been up there."
Then it hit me. He wasn't talking to me, he was providing instruction to the guy flying the glider.
I was on my own. Ah well, there wasn't that much to do. I enjoyed the quiet and did my best to steer toward the circle. Which I missed.
But I did hit the ground. I didn't get hurt.
I decided that having a successful jump was all I really needed. The odds of me making this a hobby weren't looking good at that point and haven't looked any better as the years have passed.
Posted by delmer at 12:59 PM | Comments (1)
October 8, 2006
Is that your muscle?
"Is that your muscle?! exclaimed Samson as he looked at my legs.
And I mean exclaimed. There was some serious I can't believe what I'm seeing in his voice.
I was caught off guard. I have been squatting more lately. I continue to drop weight so my legs would be leaner and the muscles would pop some. Still, to have my youngest son notice was unusual.
"No," chimed in Haydn. "That's his varicose vein."
Ah yes. The varicose vein.
I wish my quads would stick out like it does.
(If you are interested, I should have the vein addressed before the end of the year.)
Posted by delmer at 8:57 PM | Comments (0)
October 7, 2006
Jumping out of Planes -- The Recovery
When we last left our story (yesterday) I had just landed.
Ideally, at least this was ideal in 1982, when a person hit the ground after parachuting out of a plane he was supposed to touch down with both feet and then sort of roll, Mannix-like, onto his hips.
I hit with one heel and then went right to my butt. It hurt a bit and knocked the wind out of me.
I lied on my back (things lay, people lie, and yet that sounds funny) for a few moments. I finally figured I should get up so that the people who saw me come down would know I was OK. I raised up. That's when I noticed I had landed between two buildings and that no one had seen me land pretty much on my ass. Nobody had any inclination that I might be hurt.
I stood up and started collecting my parachute, drawing it toward me with side-to-side arm grabs (for some reason it seems this motion was called a 'figure 8'), as I walked toward it.
A moment or two later Sherry touched down. She was light enough that she may have actually landed standing up. Wait, wait, wait. She sometimes reads this. She was Super Woman enough that she may have landed standing up. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure she used a parachute ... she may have just flown down under her own willpower.
My ass-end would hurt for days as would my heel. I don't know if it was that night or the next but pretty soon after the jump I went to a party at a farm. Standing was hard on the heel and my butt hurt so much that sitting on a bale of hay was more than I could take.
A couple of weeks later I went to the health clinic at Miami (so ... school was either in when we jumped ... or we jumped late in the summer and it had just started. Darrell and Sherry -- can you lend a hand here?). I told the doc there about my butt problem and he X-rayed my midsection.
The doc told me my coccyx (hee hee ... he said coccyx) was not broken and that it had never been broken. The pain should eventually go away.
And it did. The very next day. One day it hurt so much I couldn't enjoy a movie at the theater. The next I was at the doc. The next I was OK.
This same doctor would eventually X-ray a finger that had been causing me pain for weeks. He told me the finger wasn't broken and that it had never been broken. And that the pain should eventually go away. It did ... the very next day.
(Inasmuch as it seems I had a suggestive personality at the time, I really needed this guy to tell me something useful ... like I was going to be better in bed ... or I was going to get straight A's. Healing non-existent ills was pretty cool but probably not the best use of his talents.)
I would jump one more time. I'll tell you about it soon.
Posted by delmer at 10:07 PM | Comments (3)
October 6, 2006
Jumping Out of Planes -- The Jump
Continuing from the past two days ...
"Go!" Dana screamed the third time. He was screaming partly to be heard over the engine noise and partly to provide some serious encouragement.
Jean-Claude Eiffel,
demonstrates the spin
descent at the 2002
Dayton Air Show
I briefly had an it's now or never thought and then finally let go of the wheel strut.
We had been told to arch our backs and fall with our arms out while counting to ten. If the chute hadn't opened by ten we were supposed to open the reserve.
I let go and, I'm pretty sure, hunkered into a ball with my eyes shut. A second or so into the drop I remembered I was supposed to be counting.
Before I even got to "one" I felt my chute open and I opened my eyes. There I was hanging under it with the plane pulling away from me. It was very peaceful. Very quiet.
It wasn't so peaceful and quiet in the plane. When I let go of the strut the plane sort of rolled left and then, of course, the bag my chute had been rolled in started beating the side of the fuselage. So the plane ride had gotten only noisier.
Not that I knew about that. All was well where I was.
We had been told to aim for a circle near the field. If we landed in the corn we were supposed to try to do as little crop damage as possible. We were to try very hard not to land in the golf course across the street -- they were sort of losing their sense of humor about having people drop in. There was such a small area of water we might land in that we'd almost have to be trying to hit it to hit it. If we went down in trees we were to put our hands under our arms with our palms facing down to protect keep arteries in the armpit area from getting damaged.
I could steer using the lines hanging down and made my way toward the circle. There was a guy on the ground with a radio giving me instruction via a radio strapped to my harness.
All was well for about 2950 feet. Or thereabouts. Actually, all was awesome up to that point. The drifting down and taking in the scenery was great.
As I got near the ground I remembered I had to check out the horizon to get a feel for where I was. Looking down and tracking my descent all the way to the ground might cause me to mess up an ankle or knee.
When I got close to the ground I looked at the horizon. At some point I thought I should have hit. When I didn't, I sort of got thrown off my game and, then, while I was being thrown off, I hit.
I hit on one heel and went straight to my ass. It knocked the wind out of me.
More later ...
Posted by delmer at 9:00 PM | Comments (3)
October 5, 2006
Jumping out of Planes II
As you may recall from yesterday, I was in the middle of babbling about my skydiving experience ...
Four of us were going to jump together: me, Sherry, and ... and ... I think her brother and one of her college roommates. And I think it was a short dark-haired girl. Maybe Sherry will chime in and clear this up for me.
Jean-Claude Eiffel,
demonstrates the inverted
descent at the 2002
Dayton Air Show
Our jump master -- the guy who was going to encourage us to leave the airplane was someone Sherry had gone to high school with. And, if you were to strap me to a chair and force bamboo under my nails I'd swear his first name was Dana. Under further torture I'd swear his last name was McDaniels, or McDaniel. The problem with this is that I went to school with Dana McDaniel(s) and I happen to know he wasn't our jump master. (FWIW, Dana is currently the Assistant City Manager for Dublin, Ohio and is presently in Iraq; I learned about his stint overseas when I saw his picture in The Franklin Chronicle ... the local paper for the small town he and I grew up in. I was very happy to see that his photo was in the paper due to his service in Iraq and not due to his death.)
Our pilot was also someone Sherry had gone to school with. His name was Gary Rickenbacker and he was a direct descendant of famed WWI ace, Eddie and Popcorn King Orville. Okay, I really don't remember his name at all. I do know he was studying for his pilot's test and I'm not sure he was supposed to be flying student skydivers around.
I don't know why, but we six were the last group to go up. Gary, Dana, Sherry, Darren, Me, and maybe a short dark-haired girl.
We soared to 3000 feet in something that was very similar to a tin can. And I'm not saying this to dis the airplane. It's just amazing to me how something so not DC-9 or 747-like could be airworthy. It was noisy and you just know that if you had a really sharp stick you could have poked it through the skin of the aircraft.
Dana pushed the door out and it went up gull-wing fashion. The force of the air whipping by kept it open.
Upon entering the airplane we'd all attached our tether lines to a cable running overhead. When we jumped we'd free fall for a short distance until the line pulled taut and opened our chute. You've probably seen this on TV. Our chutes were the big round type like they have in war movies. As a matter of fact, they may have been old army chutes. I know a panel or two had been removed from the back of the chute which allowed for some forward motion and steering capabilities -- the army guys lacked this feature for, as a paratrooper once told me, if we'd been able to steer we'd have been running in to each other up there.
I was first in our group.
"In the door," Dana gave the first command. The one that signaled me to move to the door and hang my feet out of the plane.
I really thought the commands were going to come further apart than they did. You know, so I'd have time to think about what I was doing. Of course, I'd also had a fear of having bugs slap into my face as I hung outside the plane -- it wasn't until we'd left the ground that it occurred to me that flies, mosquitoes and the dreaded may fly, probably weren't hanging around at 3000 feet.
"Out on the strut," came the next command. And pretty quick after in the door; quicker than you were able to read that last paragraph. I stepped out onto the wheel; the pilot had the brake on so it wouldn't spin. I hung there for a minute.
"GO!"
What? Go? I don't think so.
"GO!" it came again.
This was starting to seem like a really bad idea.
Posted by delmer at 7:39 AM | Comments (0)
October 4, 2006
Jumping out of Planes -- The Training
It was the summer of 1982 -- or thereabouts. It may have been spring ... I think school was out.
Anyway, my friend Sherry thought it would be a good idea to jump out of an airplane and, honestly, it seemed like a pretty good idea to me too.
There were two places we could jump from located not too far from where we lived. Greene County and Waynesville. Not only is Waynesville quite simply a great place to live and work, it was the closest so that's where we were going to jump.
We referred to the airport as Waynesville Airport. It looks like it is now called the Red Stewart Airfield. Of course, it could have been called that then. We were kids; what did we know?
Looking back it cost almost nothing to do this. Fifty bucks? Maybe eighty? And for this we got a day of training and the chance to hurl ourselves out of a moving plane.
Training consisted of some class time -- I really don't remember what we learned -- and a bit of time outside in which we jumped off a wall that was supposed to simulate how hard we'd hit the ground with our parachutes deployed. (Deployed is one of the technical words I remember).
Oh, if our main chute were to fail we were to open the reserve that was strapped to our chest. At this time, I remember our instructor telling us, the folks at Greene County were teaching students so do a cut-away which, the folks at Waynesville felt, was more dangerous. I don't really think there was any cutting involved in the cut away. I think there were two quick-release rings -- one on each line leading to the parachute cord -- that could be pulled to set the primary chute free. (I remember the quick-release demo and wondering how easy it might be to accidentally quick-release the parachute away.)
Dolly Parton ... I remember learning the phrase Dolly Parton. This is when the chute deploys in such a way that the lines tangle over the top of the chute pulling it down in the middle so that it looks like you are using two really big bra cups for a parachute.
Hmmm. More of the training is coming back. I remember learning that if the chute were to partially deploy it might slow you down enough so that, at 2000 feet, you'd think ... "Hey, I'm OK. I'm falling slowly enough to ride this out." Then, as you got closer to the ground -- too close for the secondary chute to deploy -- you'd realize you were going way too fast to not get hurt. The point was if the chute looked like Example A, Example B or Example C at deployment, you should open the reserve chute. And it was going to open, pretty much, right in your face.
I believe, and I'm just now making this up, that more men than women were injured trying to ride a Dolly Parton out. I believe this is because women have a greater understanding about just how much support a particular bra might provide. They know that anything that big, without an underwire, isn't going to do anybody any good. There's going to be too much thrashing around ... and I mean when you hit the ground and break your legs.
I also remember that as you approach the ground, hanging from your parachute, that you should look at the horizon to determine when you are going to hit. When you jump off the roof of the house (every Thanksgiving at my home and every other Kwanza) you are accelerating right up to the point of impact (Typically, a pool of Jello. We rock the holidays). This is what your body expects and it's what you've grown used to. You know how to judge shit like this.
[Dammit ... I have not yet blogged about The Jello Bath or I don't know how to judge shit like that. How is it that some days I can't think of anything to blog about there are those two gems just sort of laying around in the back of my subconscious?!]
Anyway. When you're hanging from a parachute you've reached top speed by the time you're getting close to the ground. And this is true regardless of whether the chute has opened, not opened, if you're tangled in the lines, if an anvil has popped out instead of a nice, big canopy-like thing. The point is -- you're at top speed ... you aren't accelerating ... you aren't used to it ... you'll misjudge when you think you should hit. To avoid ankle injuries it is better to look at the horizon and try to figure out when you might land based on what you see there.
We'll talk more on this tomorrow.
Posted by delmer at 7:06 AM | Comments (2)
October 3, 2006
That's so Third Grade
My youngest is in third grade. Just the other day I was thinking about how much simpler his life is than mine -- and how much simpler mine was back when I was his age.
Whenever he goes to the fridge, there's milk. It must seem like magic to him. Sometimes when I go to the fridge we're out of milk and I have to make a run to the store.
He never gets letters from any of the many governmental taxing authorities available to me. Letters, that for whatever reason, always seem to find me after office hours on a Friday.
If he has a really really big bowel movement. One that is so large in size that it actually starts to back the toilet up -- even before any toilet paper is used. One that is so large that it forces him to jump off the seat as he notices the water gurgling and rising and brings him right to the edge of crapping his pants had he bothered to pull them up when he jumped and had there been anything left in him. One that is so large it is almost Klee-Irwinesque in stature. If this happens ... he feels free to find everybody within earshot about it. Me ... we'll, I'm all grown up. It isn't becoming to talk about things like this.
So, I put it in my blog.
That was just wrong on so many levels.
How's this.
This morning as the boys and I stood outside waiting for the bus we noticed a rainbow just over Hilliard Darby High School. The clouds and sky color were such that there was a fair amount of contrast between the rainbow and the background. It really popped out. It was a nice start to the day.
(I found out moments later -- when I stopped by the Citgo station -- that there had been two rainbows visible. Hilliard is such a magical place.)
Posted by delmer at 8:31 AM | Comments (4)
October 2, 2006
Boobie-thon 2006
I don't know how I missed it, but the Fifth Annual Blogger Boobie-Thon kicked off yesterday and I forgot to mention it.
Oh, I could try to say somethhing witty -- but I think we all know the chances of me pulling that off are about 50/50 -- so I'll just post the Boobie-Thon press release.
October 1, 2006 --Boobies. Although they come in all shapes and sizes (large, small, saggy and perky), they have one thing in common: The ability to develop cancer.
Even though there is no cure yet, the fifth annual Blogger Boobie-Thon is doing its part to make cancer a thing of the past.
From October 1-7, bloggers from across the globe can submit pictures of bare and covered breasts to raise money for breast cancer causes.
Founded in 2002 by Florida blogger Robyn Pollman (www.shutterblog.com,) the Boobie-Thon has grown into a well-known event, raising over $26,000 for breast cancer and blogger-charity causes, with over 1500 people contributing pictures. The event raised $9240 between October 1-8, 2005, with $1355 going to a secondary charity: The American Red Cross Hurricane Katrina Fund. The rest of the donations were donated to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.
Featured in Self Magazine’s “Body Confidence Awards” in 2004, both founders and participants are hoping to generate exposure and donations for a worthy cause. This year donors can choose to donate to either Children's Hospital Boston or the Komen Foundation.
Both male and female bloggers can submit pictures of their breasts. The covered boobies are featured on the free area of the site. The price of viewing the bare breasts is $50, made payable to Children's Hospital Boston or The Komen Foundation. A copy of an e-receipt is needed in order to gain the password to the “Not Safe for Work” portion of the site.
We will be happy to assist you in finding participants to fit the angle of your story.
For more information, visit the official website at http://www.boobiethon.com and/or contact Robyn, event coordinator, using this contact form.
original text courtesy of: Sarcastic Journalist
Posted by delmer at 9:19 AM | Comments (0)
October 1, 2006
Searching for Clues
We're nine hours into the new month. A quick look at the search terms that were used to find What's a Delmer Look Like reveals:
These are listed in order of popularity. Closer examination -- examination that I've denied you, dear reader, shows that the Pokemon hit is the only term with more than one entry. It has three.
To address these search terms:
Can I get Pokemon blue team for less than $27.00: I will sell you every Pokemon card I can find laying around for $27.00. There seem to be a lot of them. My boys buy them, look at them once, tell me all about their hit points and character traits, and then leave them in the mini van forever.
Pfizer-stammering tablets: I have no clue what this refers to. I take Dostinex, which is a Pfizer product. I don't know that they keep me from stammering. They do make everything else work pretty well.
Granny Galleria: My mom paints and some of her paintings are in The Granny Gallery. See the right sidebar at the top. I think most people Google for Granny Gallery looking for porn featuring mature women.
Dostinex recall: Dostinex is currently hard to find at the pharmacy and there appears to be a recall concerning the packaging of the product. I don't understand this as my pills always came in one of those generic, sort of transparent, orange-brown, pill bottles. Maybe there's a version of this that comes in a blister pack. I don't know.
Coincidentally, not long before the recall a generic version was put out by Par. I've been taking the generic Cabergoline for the last month. It seems to work the same.
Meditating about lost items: I lost a wallet years ago. A friend said she'd meditate on it. She had never been to my apartment, yet was able to describe two oddly styled couches my roomies and I had. The wallet was never found.
Tungsten T Battery Change: You can send your Tungsten T to PalmOne for a battery change ... or you can change it yourself and save some money. Plus, you get the thrill of taking something apart.
Pituitary Tumor Story Testosterone: My testosterone was wicked low due to high Prolactin levels, which were caused by tumors on my pituitary gland. Click the Hormones category for more on this.
When I find that people have found WADLL by searching for info on hormone problems, pituitary issues, Dostinex, etc. it makes me feel like the blog has a little bit of usefulness going for it. I know that when I found out about my hormone issues I looked high and low for information and personal accounts. I should really try to organize those items a little better.
First Pelvic Exam: It was everything I hoped it would be. OK, it was kind of shocking.
Shark_Face: Google returns a couple pages of hits for this search term. WADLL isn't among them. Since all the really cool kids use Google, I assume one of the less cool kids came here via one of the less-cool search engines.
Posted by delmer at 9:54 AM | Comments (2)