The Racing little Heartbeat That Could.. maybe..

Once upon a Time there was a large man that couldn't sleep because his heart was in A-Fib.  This A-Fib is not where your heart tells a lie. It's when your heart beats really fast or is irregular, kinda like bad prison rap music from white guys.

"Flippity flop, flippity flop, flippity bippity zippity.. BOP!! 

The "Bop" wasn't the large mans heartbeat. It was a prison snitch being shanked for trying to rap with the Atlantic Drive Compton Crips in order to get information on prison drug running.

Die prison snitch die.

Heavens, I have digressed boys and girls, let's get back to the heart that has A-Fib.

Children, A-Fib can be very dangerous.
Bad bad bad.
If your heartbeat doesn't go back to normal, blood can pool up in your heart and form clots. Clots are blood cells that have clumped together, like your mommys gravy that daddy says looks like oatmeal, making her very angry.
The clots can travel to your brain and jack that sucka bad, causing you to act like a member of Westboro Baptist.

This large man does not like his A-Fib. He doesn't like it at all. When he gets A-Fib he needs to keep calm so his heartbeat will go back to normal but instead gets nervous and starts wondering who will be there to wipe the drool off his chin when he goes all freaky freak.
Drool drool drool.

Well boys and girls, The large mans heart has gone back into sinus rythym now so he can go to bed..

Boom boom..boom boom..boom boom.. BOP!!!

Uh oh. Another snitch bites the dust.

It's 3am and I'm wide awake...

*Sings.. The Diet Dr Pepper says "Wake On Up, Wake On Up, Wake On Up." The Diet Dr Pepper says "Wake On Up.. I'm aaallll up in your Brain.."

Just found this picture from Twitter...

To The Lady Wanting A Ride.

Just went to 7-11 to get eggs and there was a lady standing outside the store. She didn't say anything to me when I walked in but when I came out she very excitedly asked "Can You Take Me To My House??!!  Somebody Broke Into My House!! It's Just Right Over Here!!"

Well.. ok lady but answer me this:

Why are you standing outside a 7-11 if someone broke into your house? Did you run away? If so, why do you want to go back? If I know there are boogelers in my house I ain't going anywhere near it. I am hauling my fat hiney somewheres else and eating my weight in balogna sandwiches till I stop being scared.

Why aren't you walking towards your house if it's just "right over here?" Did you say to yourself "OH DEAR GOD THERE"S A BURGLAR IN MY HOUSE I NEED A SLURPEE!!!!"

No, probably not.

No.. the most logical answer is going to be that you are a "lot lizard" or in other terms..

A hooker. A lady of the evening. A prostitute. 

You wait in parking lots and then ask for a ride from unsuspecting gentlemen and large women that wear plaid. When you get inside the car you offer forth the terms of an agreement that concludes with them handing over their money or being killed by your "manager" or you yelling out the window that you are being molested.

I'm sorry maam. I can't do that.
I can't give you a ride.

It just didn't add up.

By the way.. if I'm wrong.. I am SO, SO Sorry!

Ode To My Drug Dealing Neighbors

Ode to my neighbors:

I see you, see you in the street
I see your head, I see your feet
I see you talk to passing cars
They come from places quite afar

I see you exchange this and that
I wonder "Goodness, what be dat?"
What oh what is going on?
You have nice cars
They be real phat

I see them come day and night
I see you get into a fight
Boom and bang
Smash and pow
I'm sure you don't follow Mao

I hope I hope, you get caught
I hope its soon I hope you rot
My neighborhood, has been ruined
By smackity smack and potty pot pot

Leave, leave and do it now
I'm having a fit and maybe a cow
You're scummity scum and dirty dirt dirt
You're in for a world of hurty hurt hurt.


Copyright 2012. All rights reserved

Life After Heart Surgery

Well It has been such a long time since I updated this blog. I had an excuse. Seems I had a heart valve that loved me so much it wanted to surprise me... with leaving.

Now.. Lord knows I haven't eaten as I should over the years and I thought "Well, I guess it serves me right". Come to find out my arteries were so clean you could let a toddler suck apple juice through them. THIS little gift was a complication of Measles. yes, my heart has been damaged since I was 7 years old. The leaky heart valve has been waiting and biding its time, crouched down behind the couch for 40+ years just so it could turn the lights on and yell "SURPRISE!!!" That's some patience right there!

I can see it... crouched down for all those years, waiting and plotting, suppressing an occasional giggle and biding it's time until it could reveal itself.

Well dearest heart valve..IT WASN'T FUNNY.. but danged if I wasn't surprised.

Carbohydrates: A Love/Hate Relationship.

I've been feeling kinda bad the past few years. I could launch into a HUGE soliloquy of what was going on but I'll spare you, my dear reader.

Seems I have SEVERELY underestimated what carbohydrates were doing to my blood sugars. I don't know why I didn't make the connection.. well, I do too know. My brain was starving from my blood turning to sludge because of consistently high blood sugar numbers. I am apparently very susceptible to the sugar from carbs.(Ok, who isn't) but I'm not talking about taste, I'm talking about the effect on my body. I've been CLUELESS about this.. clueless I tell you! Yes, I can hear what you're thinking "THAT AIN'T THE ONLY THING, BUDDY!" but, please indulge me and let me continue.

I have cut out most carbs from my diet and in TWO DAYS TIME. I have been able to cut my insulin needs by more than HALF!! (No, I'm not about to try and sell you a miracle product.. "And you get this Cutlery knife!!" just pay separate shipping..)

I've cut bread, pasta, potatoes and anything else that looks like a carb and thrown then right out the window. I almost threw my dad out the window (I was on a roll) but my brother caught me just in time.

I'm still in shock over this. I was taking TREMENDOUS AMOUNTS of insulin. BIG Amounts! Other diabetics would scream in horror when I told them how much I had to take. Doctors would Gasp! My next door neighbor took off her blouse and flashed me! ok, I think my neighbor has a lil sumpin else a goin rotten in her medulla oblongotcha, but thats a whoooole different story.

The fact is, I've been able to make a great turnaround in 48 hours! If my feet hadn't been amputated from the ankles down, I could have turned around MUCH faster! Just kidding, I still have both my feet..and several other pairs from God knows where.

Anyway, Thats about it, Now, I think I MIGHT live past 50. (Barring natural disaster, Acts of God and any future Paulie Shore movies.

Torturing My Dog.. and other fun past times.

I want to give my dog, Baby, a bath. Baby does not like baths. Not many dogs do. They like smelly things. They like being smelly. I can take Baby on a walk and she will pretty much take my arm off to get to a dead squirrel 50 yards away. I had a distant cousin who did the same thing but fortunately he wasn't let outside much. In that moment, there is nothing more important than for her to flop over on her back and swish back and forth until she been assured that the aroma of death has properly taken its place in her pores.

I used to give her a bath once a week but she quickly decided she was up to the act of war I had declared upon her and was not going to agree to any treaty no matter how many doggie biscuits I waved in front of her. I almost had her with some baked chicken one time but she was decidedly quicker on the draw and retreated with the chicken leg and without any type of moisture anywhere near her person. Apparently smelling like a deceased animal is extremely appealing and us humans are missing out.

Once, I was able to outsmart her. She loves to go on walks.. especially in the nearby cemetery. Yes, cemetery. Again, death comes into the picture. Baby seems to have a morbid side. Every time I pull out her leash she starts dancing around faster than a widow women at a full gospel church during a revival. I slipped the leash around her and then took her to the side of the house where the water hose is. I was able to get her wet down and even got some shampoo rubbed into her coat before she realized I was barefoot. I can barely see the scar now days.

I have tried my best to train her and I've gotten her to the point where I can say "Get into the tub" and she will jump in. Now this only works if I already have her IN the bathroom with the door shut..and locked. I also had to make myself clear that I wanted her to STAY in the tub. It was a loophole I naively overlooked at first. After I thought about it a bit I realized that making her get into the tub on her own was akin to when your parents were going to spank you and would make you go find a leather belt or go cut your own switch.

Over all, Baby is a good dog. She knows several commands and most of the time ignores them completely but by golly she knows what they mean. I keep her around because she makes me laugh and I'm getting accustomed to the smell of dead animals.