A Brazilian what?

Last night it was too cold to do anything other than veg. I found myself mesmerized by a show named, "Dr. 90210." If you haven't seen it, the show's about plastic surgery. Dr. 90210 is about as pretty and metrosexual as an adult male should be allowed. He's buff and tanned with what most consider a great sense of humor. Being the jacka** I am, I felt a great urge to punch him in the neck and I'm not even a violent person.

Anywho, there were three different patients in this week's episode. The most interesting was the woman who was so dissatisfied with her own bum that she wanted it "inflated," and lifted. she stated that she had done every thing she could to affect this monumental problem. She had tried all sorts of exercises at the gym and her prospects of lifting and plumping her bum were in vain. Dr. Funny-Handsome-Guy to the rescue! During the consultation it was discovered that she wanted, dare I say needed a "Brazilian Butt." A what, you ask? Me too. The best I could tell was that this Brazilian butt thingy is the latest in desired perfect arses. It has just the right amounts of plump and pertness. I'm still a little confused in that for my entire life I have had a "Black Butt," and I was led to believe that there was none better. -Not my arse in particular but, the black butt in general.

I guess I have to move my black butt over, the Brazilian Butt is in town. So, back to the consultation... The doctor tells the woman (Opps, I just remembered that this was a different doctor now.) during the consult that she was too thin and she needed to gain ten pounds. Why? She needed to gain ten pounds so the doctor could extract it from her belly and re-inject it into her butt. This is what he did. The injection made a big lump which the doctor smoothed and shaped as desired. Voila, a Brazilian Butt. Her boyfriend stool off in the distance looking as giddy as a third grade boy to hearing his first poop joke. He was so pleased that at the end of the show as he welded up in tears, he asked the woman with the new Brazilian Butt to be his wife... she accepted. I guess I am to assume that this might not have happened had she not filled her bum with belly fat?

The whole thing kind of made me a bit sad. I took a mirror in to the bathroom and for the first time I felt that my black butt just wasn't enough. Not.

Pedestrian Rage

I hate to be a downer on a Friday and all but, what the heck is wrong with this world?

As I have posted, Most people don't shovel their snow these days. Therefore, because of the snow and ice as well as occasional balance issues related to my ankle "fixation," on particularly bad weather days I use my James Bond-like cane. It collaspses into four equal parts. With the flick of the wrist it is fully extended for use. It's like having a third leg.

Yesterday, I waited to cross the street near the Rite-Aid. I usually wait until there are absolutely no vehicles coming in either direction. Most people in this town pay no attention; they coast through right-on-reds and it is as if they learned to drive playing Bumper Cars at the fair. I don't want to end up like that poor squirel I saw the other day so, I'm overly careful. I saw no cars in sight so, I started across the street. Then out of nowhere came a guy in a Chevy truck down the street facing me. I was in the middle of the road when I saw him without even looking zoom through the stop sign and turn right onto the road towards me. The car was coming directly towards me and his lack of attention and conversation with his passenger caused him to also turn in to the far left lane. I shouted, "HEY" as loudly as I could to get him to notice me in that I had nowhere to go other than back to Jesus. What happened next is beyond crazy.

The guy stopped his vehicle and gestured while dropping F-Booms. Why the F**K was I yelling at him... he didn't hit me? He was about to get out of the truck and really go after me when it appeared his passenger said something to him. He looked at the cane, gave me a dirty look and then drove onward a few feet ahead. He stopped his truck and watched me by looking out the back window over his shoulder. Now, it was my turn to use the F word once I reached safely on the other side of the street. 'So, you are going to carelessly run down a guy walking with a cane and because he interceeded on his own behalf, you are going to kick his arse?' I was three blocks from home and every step of the way I imagined the jerk would appear, jump out of his truck and beat me in some sort of twisted pedestrian rage. WTF!

A little correspondence

A bit of correspondence to share...

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Dear Neighbor Woman:
No, I'm not some kind of an idiot! I did however believe for the past two and one half years that you were a man. The Flannel over shirts, chain smoking voice and constant spitting all converged to confuse me. I am indeed sorry. With that settled my cousin wants to know if she can add you to her Avon customer list?
Les-

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Dear Colon:
Sorry about that second bowl of Oatmeal. I guess that was over kill.
Love
Les-

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Dear MTV and VH1:
Instead of Think Tanks do you guys have Dipsh*t Tanks to come up with your sucky reality show ideas?
:-(
Les-

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Dear The SCOOTER Store:
Please remove me from your dang, darn, dabnabbit mailing list!
Yours in mobility,
Les-

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Dear Paperboy:
What, three days and no paper again? Hmmm. I guess I could always read it online... forever!
Les-

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Dear Large woman in tight white "pants":
You do know that the Laws of Physics apply to spandex?
Les-

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Dear Experts:
Most of you are full of you know what.
Les-

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What's in a number?

Yesterday, I got a letter from my primary doctor in the mail. It states that her office has been trying to get in touch with me for two months. I don't see how this is possible in that had they called as they said there might have been some indication of it on my phone. I imagine that someone just did not do their job and decided it would be easier to pin it on the patient. The reason they were "trying" to get in touch with me is that I had blood work done a couple months ago for which I had never received any results. Apparently, the only negative result of that lab work was that my Cholesterol was a bit high at 229 (200 or less is good). Well, as a result my doctor has decided that rather than altering my diet, I should go on a medication called Lovastatin (10mg). Now, I'm not that kind of doctor but, this makes no sense to me. Couldn't those 29 points be arrested by a few less ham and cheese omelettes and a few more bowls of oatmeal? All of my other stats are markedly characteristic of a man with a much higher bum than my own. So, if those 29 points are the only indicator of ill health then, why medication?

I went on line immediately and Googled, Lovastatin. One of the first lines of the three different sites I checked stated that the stuff is normally prescribed when adjustments to diet, exercise and weight have failed. I ask again, why medication? I read further to discover that possible side effects can be constipation, muscle damage severe stomach pain, kidney/liver problems, yellowing, of the eyes yada, yada, blah.

Now I'm confused. I feel that it would be a silly waste of time to start on these meds rather than adjust my diet and all. Well, why don't you discuss this with your Primary Care Physician as they do on the commercials? I'm not good at that besides I suspect she thinks I'm a whiner anyway. The "I know better, I'm the doctor," stuff does not set well with me either. Besides, the letter failed to actually mention the 229, which I thought significant. It just read it was "high." It was not until I telephoned the office and whomever answered the phone and looked up my file told me me the actual number. That person even questioned medication and told me that diet could easily adjust the number. She added that she wasn't the doctor though. I guess the bottom line here is that I am not at all pleased with the level of professionalism at that office and as such this situation makes me a bit uncomfortable. Why medication?

Right now my options are to call on Monday and try to get in touch with the doctor or follow my gut which at present is experiencing absolutely no severe stomach pain.

Let it snow

I used to love snow. I Cross Country skied. I lacked the coordination to actually make Downhill pleasurable. That seems like a lifetime ago. I guess it was. Now, I don't really hate snow I just like it better staring out of the window at it. I've had to shovel the stuff for the past four days and I'm done. Some place dreamy with white sandy beaches and year 'round temps of 75 degrees would be nice. I could sell beaded necklaces to the tourists. Unfortunately, reality slaps its windy hand in my face.

The short story is... Yesterday, as I walked to the library I stepped in a hole. I did not see it of course and was trying to be careful. Yes, the ankle with the six inch plate and the eight screws (to anticipate your question). I spent the evening in bed feeling sorry for myself and wondering why people don't clear their walks. On average it seems that one out of every eight homes actually shovels their sidewalks. This is an informal visual survey and not to be quoted. I remember in a happier time when I was a lad growing up in Butte. I didn't really grow up in Butte, I just liked the sentence. Actually, where I did grow up it was illegal not to shovel your walk. The mailman would not deliver your mail and God forbid should someone fall on your icy/snowy walk. You would be in sooo much trouble. I'm sure that these laws have been just ignored rather than repealed. Maybe, I'm just whining but, when you consider that the bionic ankle is the result of falling on ice... I tell myself that I expect too much and that the world has changed. People are too busy to shovel walks or come to a complete stop at

right on red

when I am in the road. Too busy... there's a pizza and PlayStation getting cold.