Old Fashioned Entertainment

One of the things I like best about having Sirius Satellite Radio is the wide variety of programming choices. I can go from listening to Motown to AC/DC to Bluegrass.

Lately I've become a big fan of the Radio Classics Channel. I sit in traffic and listen to the Adventures of Superman, Tarzan, The Shadow, Sherlock Holmes and, of course, the Lone Ranger. It's fun to listen to the recorded stories and old-timey commercials. Superman saves Jimmy Olsen from an avalanche and it's all brought to you by some Kellog's cereal that no longer exists. Every one of Sherlock Holmes' adventures seems to be sponsored by a mens clothing line and they work the advertising plug into discussions with Dr. Watson.

Oh, what life must've been like before plasma screen televisions, TIVO, and Blue Ray. Families sat by the glow of their radios and tuned in to hear their favorite radio programs and cheer on the heroic efforts of Tarzan as he saves yet another white woman from the savage jungle. Must have been fun. Now I get to hear some of the classic broadcasts from the comfort of my car as I wrestle with rush hour traffic.

Tonight, as I was returning home, I passed a car on the shoulder of the road. The engine was on fire - flames were shooting out, smoke was billowing out from beneath the hood and blanketing the Beltway as I listened to the close of the Superman program. I scanned the skies hopefully looking for a blue and red blurred figure streaking to the rescue. Alas, the Man Of Steel was too busy entertaining me on the radio.

Not very current but funny...

I thought this was pretty funny. Makes me want to get more involved in politics or crime fighting.

Poor Attention Span

He was complaining about one of his classes. He's trying to be a good teacher but sometimes they just don't get it - it doesn't seem like they care to get it. Anyway, he was telling me about their disruptive behavior, rowdiness, passing notes, etc. Then he said, "They were doing everything but f@#king learning!"

I snickered to myself and bit my lip. I focused on the road before me, and his voice in my headset. He kept venting about his frustrating day.

Inside my head a little imp was dancing a jig, and singing in a silly, shrill voice, 'He said butt-f@#king!'

Ye Olde NFC East!

He walked by me wearing a kilt and a Dallas Cowboys jersey; number 9.

"Hey, is that a Tony Romo skirt?" I asked sarcastically.

He looked back at me, and clenched his jaws as he focused on my Redskins hat. If his daughter hadn't been with him it might've gotten ugly - but the Maryland Renaissance Festival is all about love, fried foods, and playing dress-up so I didn't get my butt kicked today.

Mick Said It Best.

One of our students was complaining because we'd run out of time. We weren't going to get to his favorite song.

Another student, J, says, "You can't always get what you want. Right, Mr. Cobb?"

I smile and say, "Yep, but if you try sometimes..."

J jumps in, "...You just might find you get what you need."

"That's right."

"The Rolling Stones said that didn't they, Mr. Cobb?" J adds.

"They sure did."

The Fluff & Fold is now open for business.

My wife's decided to bring her blog to blogspot. Hit the link to my right and check out was she has to say. I think you'll like it!

Extra! Extra! Read All About It! David Duchovny Checks Into Rehab!

Apparently, the XFiles star has been battling sex addiction.

Now I know that addiction is a formidable foe, a terrifying beast, and a real problem for thousands of people, known as addicts. Sexual addiction? I'm a little skeptical. Especially when the man claiming to be a sexual addict just so happens to play one on TV. Seems a little sketchy to me.

That's like an actor, after portraying a cannibal, deciding that maybe he should try this human flesh diet thing. I once portrayed a drunken seaman in a Tennessee Williams play, I didn't run right out and start porking guys left and right... that would have been silly.

Here's a suggestion - maybe he should've claimed to have been abducted by aliens. Maybe that would've helped him at the box office this past Summer.

Good Luck Davy!

Less Of An Excruciating, Ouch - More Of An Embarassing, Uncomfortable Oooh!

I was told to leave my shirt on but to remove my pants, and underwear. There was a folded length of tissue like material that I was to wrap around my naked pelvis and sit in the chair. The tissue tore at the corner as I unfolded it. Then, confused, I wrapped the material around my waist and sat down promptly splitting the cover. When I turned it frontwards I exposed myself. Oh well, I figured that the urologist and the nurse were going to see my penis anyway.

I am then instructed to sit on the examining table and lay back as the nurse applies a cleaning solution to my genitals. This cleaning solution might have had ice cubes in it! It was that damn cold! Then the nurse instructs me that she is going to insert a needle less syringe - thank whatever god you believe in for that! - into my urethra to coat it with numbing gel. That was unpleasant. Then to keep the gel from leaking out she put a metal clamp around my shrink-wrapped member. The fun is just getting started.

My urologist shows up and tells me that there might be some discomfort during the procedure. I am a nervous wreck at this point because the numbing gel did not, in my opinion, have a noticeable effect. I didn't feel numb! I didn't feel as if I'd been given a local anesthetic! In fact, I was completely aware of the chip clip hanging off the end of my wang but my requests for a spinal tap were dismissed. So the doctor lifts up the torn tissue paper, removes the clamp, takes a big technologically advanced instrument - I averted my eyes pretty quickly, but to me it looked like a cross between a microscope and a caulking gun - and inserted the tip into my tip.

Then, I can only explain what I know to have happened from my point of view, he snaked a scope up my urethra while flushing water into my bladder to dilate it. I was supposed to be numb but believe me you feel a foreign presence rooting around in your bladder. He even at one point warned me, "This will be uncomfortable until I get it past the prostrate... and... there we go. Better?"

PEACHY!

Then with the scope, apparently he could see into my bladder, he was able to look around, locate the ureteric stent, get a hold of one end and tug. This was not a quick removal. Okay, so maybe once the caulking gun was applied the procedure took less than two minutes, but they were the longest two minutes of my life! The stent ended up being about 12 inches -that's a foot, people - not to mention the length of the scope that went in to locate the stent. When the doctor pulled it all out it was horrible. I felt like I was part of a magic act and the magician was pulling a long string of handkerchiefs out of my pocket; one after another after another, etc. Only in this case it wasn't my pocket it was my pecker!

Overall???? A day that I survived... an experience that I've learned from... afoot-long tube pulled from my most intimate of appendages.

Ouch!

In a few hours I'm going in to have my ureteric stent removed! Basically, I'll get a local anesthesia and then the doctor will snake a hook of some sort up my urethra, snag the stent and pull it back out, once again, through the urethra! Which begs the question that my best friend put forth, "Where do they give you the local?"

Gotta be the penis.

So, if you'll excuse me I'd better be on my way. My penis and I have an appointment with a man with a big needle and a hook!!

When Did I Get Old?

Tonight was the 25th Annual MTV Video Music Awards!

Yeah, my that was my reaction too.

I can't wait to have children of my own so I can smack them upside the head when they refer to Lil Wayne as a music artist.

"But Dad..."

"I don't want to hear it! Bling Bling? Buy yourself a goddamn Belt Belt, Million Dollar Man! Pull your pants up!"

Sarah Connor Was Right!

Technology will be the end of mankind! *

EXAMPLE 1:

This morning I babysat my niece and nephew. As per usual during the course of the my time with the rugrats Savannah catches a glimpse my cell phone and wants to play with it. She likes the ring tones. She likes for me to take pictures and videos. She likes to pretend that she is calling someone. She likes to randomly push buttons.

My cell phone is not working correctly. I can receive calls. I can make calls. I just can't hear or be heard during those calls. Ever since I got the phone back from her sticky little paws I can't get the phone to work right. If I use my ear piece, handless, everything is fine. I've been driving myself nuts trying to figure out how her random button pressing has handicapped my phone.

Then I remember that recently, since she last had my phone, my keyguard was disabled. I don't remember doing that. Don't really know how I reactivated it today to correct the problem. Plus, I realized a few days ago that my inbox for my text messages was mysteriously wiped clean without my noticing it. Changes in my cell phone alarm me. I feel so violated - by a 2 year old cyber-criminal.

EXAMPLE 2:

Tropical Storm Hannah marches across the area and many homes are left without power... including my brother's who had a fantasy football draft scheduled for 10 PM. Needless to say a power outtage interferes with a computer draft. My brother was beside himself.

At 9:57 my cell phone rings and I answer it, using my handy dandy ear piece, and say, "You want me to draft for you, don't you?" He did. So for the next hour and a half I relayed the comings and goings, the selected picks, and random smack talk of the espn fantasy football draft to my brother who was coaching me over the phone.

The world order has been usurped my modern age technology. Grown men rendered helpless by the unexpected change in their technologically dependent routine.

Discombobulation. Stress! Techno-rage!

*Sarah Connor is a reference to the Terminator movies in which computers and man clash in a battle for survival. It is not a direct quote.

You Know I Like Me Some Sara's (I prefer mine without the H.)

I'd agree with the headline.

*I heard she even passed off her underage daughters 1st born child as her own to avoid a scandal. (At least that's what some democrats are saying.) A mother's love is pure and sweet.

Pressure

I remember High School. Peer pressure. Academic pressure. Pressure to be cool. Pressure to find your own voice. Pressure to conform. Pressure to get into a good college. Pressure to wear the right clothes. Etc, etc, etc. Not to mention that at my high school there was a fair amount of racial tension from time to time.

A high school student is subjected to enormous amounts of pressure. It can't be easy.

I though I was the bomb back in high school. I tried to be so bad ass. I was friends with the geeks, the gangstas, the mutants, the artists, the jocks and anyone else who would say hello. I dated one of the most popular girls in school. I was one half of the dynamic duo with my best friend, Gary; we were inseperable. I starred in the school plays. I wrote on the school paper. I had a car. I was funny. I was cute. I even recorded a rap single that played on WPGC's home jams.

Yet there were those individuals who either didn't like me, didn't know me or just didn't care to know me. It's always the case. You can't make everyone like you. I look back through my yearbook and I see some faces that I remember but I don't recall ever even having conversations with those people. I don't even know if they knew my name. But thanks to FACEBOOK these people now have requested my friendship. Back in the early nineties I may not have been cool enough, or smart enough to warrant a hello in the hallway but now, years later, I am offered the validation that I probably worked so hard for back in high school and there's no pressure.

So, yes, I did befriend Mr. "Best Body of The Class of 93", among others, because none of us are still the same people we were in high school... hopefully.

What's Wrong?

Kidney surgery was a success. I've been waiting two and a half weeks to go in and see my urologist again and have him take out the stitches that are still in my lower back. We also need to see how the left kidney has recovered from the surgery and schedule a time for them to pull out my uretal stint. My appointment was for today, 9/2 at 2PM. The urology office called me on Friday afternoon and informed me I would need a referral from my local doctor for my follow up urology appointment. Even though this is a post-op appointment apparently it isn't covered under my insurance unless I get a referral. I don't understand. (Of course I don't understand why I see a doctor here in Annapolis, a Urologist in White Marsh, or Woodlawn, and have my procedures done in seperate facilities in Towson either. There has to be a simpler way.) Anyway, there was a rush to get the referral in before the holiday weekend so I could keep my urology appointment today. Calls were made, messages exchanged and I find out first thing this morning that a referral was sent -

TO THE WRONG DAMN DEPARTMENT IN THE WRONG DAMN FACILITY!

A referral was sent to the nephrology department at the place where I had my procedure. I needed it sent to my urologists' office in Towson; a urology referral. When I called to have it corrected I was told that generally referrals take 2-3 business days, I've had to move my appointment to next Monday morning now, and tally up another missed day of work thanks to the less-than-simple conundrum that is health insurance. (Even if I got cleaned up and went in for a half day I'd spend two hours on the road for three remaining hours of school.)

Oh well, maybe I'll hang around the apartment and try and accomplish a few things locally. At least my dog seems to have recovered from her bout with indigestion.

Sick Puppy

So, it's close to 5:30 AM and I've been up half the night with a sick dog and a worried wife. A call to the emergency vet hotline - my wife's idea - has led to the hopeful hypothesis that Tootsie has a bad case of indigestion. We were down at the parents house yesterday and she often is spoiled with people food when we go there. Her sensitive tummy isn't doing well with yesterday's BBQ.

She's been restless. Whining. She just can't get comfortable. The two walks around the neighborhood haven't been very 'productive', if you know what I mean. She's not vomiting. She doesn't have diarrhea.

Yet!

Of course after the last few hours I'd almost prefer a spotted carpet to having to stay up all night long, watching her be so uncomfortable.