TMI

Under the weather

Robb Allen — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 14:53:28 GMT

Unfortunately, my depression has decided to show back up, crushing my spirit and sucking every last happy thought right out of my skull. Oddly, as horrific as depression is, I'm still not receiving commands from my gun collection to fellate a muzzle and play fast and loose with the Four Rules. My mini-arsenal is so disappointing.

In an amazing twist of irony, the same brain that decided life sucks and that I should just mope around like an angst ridden teenager apparently has decided that a migraine would hammer the point home. Instead, I'm battling the nausea and pain and the case of the poopies has taken a back seat.

So, kiddies, a tip from your local blogger - If you suffer from depression, try to get a bad headache. It's kind of like making your broken finger feel better by shattering your tibia.

Fun with modern dentistry

Robb Allen — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 01:54:48 GMT

So I just had a tooth fixed, finally, which is of great relief to myself. I literally sheared a tooth on the side and the little crack would collect food like a squirrel harvesting nuts for the winter. It sucked having to tote around floss all the time.

Anywho, today was the day to get it fixed. My appt. was at 5, which was nice since I didn't have to take any time off and didn't have to rush all the way home (I work 45 minutes away from where I live). I didn't get taken back until 5:45, but I'm fairly patient when it comes to waiting rooms.

Well, I was patient until what I can only describe as a batshit crazy homeless guy sat next to me, reeking up the room. It was stomach churning, but apparently he was there for a cleaning which probably should have included a fire hose and some soap. When they called him back, instead of leaving he decided to start talking to the lady who was trying to schedule some major dental work. Batshit, I'm telling you.

Then, as Stinky Tuscadero left (I had to move it was so bad), I listened in on the lady at the counter who was shocked that her insurance didn't pay for everything and that $1500 for the year was too low. Luckily I was there for a filling and not to give a lecture on economics, but I realized (for the umpteenth time) that people have abused insurance for so long they've forgotten what it really is for and think that for $20 a month, they should cough up $30,000 for implants.

Finally, it was my turn. This is a new dentist for me (only my second visit) and since it was just a broken tooth and a repair, I went ahead and skipped the Novocain / Lidocain / John McCain, whatever the crap is called these days. I'm not being a tough guy, not by a long shot, it's simply that I can deal with the excruciating yet short lived pain of having a tooth drilled rather than the hours long numbness from the whatever-cain. Plus, I was hungry and was able to eat as soon as I got home.

The dentist was rather surprised I could do it. He kept asking me if I was OK, but the problem is that I kind of needed to 'zone out' to ignore the pain and when he talked to me it kept bringing me back. Luckily it only lasted a few minutes. This guy is really good and fast.

So, joy...

Three shy

Robb Allen — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 19:09:06 GMT

Gah! Just weighed myself at Publix.

I'm 3 pounds short of my all time record of 218 pounds.

Still, being 6'3", 215 isn't a bad weight. But it's kind of scary from the 205 I was before Thanksgiving.

Well, you've certainly come to the right place!

Robb Allen — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 17:08:05 GMT

From a recent search query to SaaM

However, unfortunately I'm a prude and I shan't show you.

A true work of art

Robb Allen — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 13:58:56 GMT

So, I'm relaxing in the ladies' room, 'dropping off some friends at the community pool' when I hear the main door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps. I know this sound. It is the sound of a man who is five seconds from needing a shower and a clean set of boxers.

Oddly, mixed in with the sounds of discomfort and unbuckling pants is a slight, beeping noise. A familiar sound. One of a cellphone dialing a number.

The man in stall #1 actually made a phone call during a bout of explosive diarrhea. His "Hey, how are you doin'?" and "How is so and so?" was punctuated by grunts and some sounds I simply cannot describe without violating some decency law somewhere. He carried on a full conversation while doing his business, not caring one whit about the situation.

Then, someone else walks in to take a leak. Cellphone guy actually had to speak up over the, umm.. "noise" and said "I'm sorry. What did you say? I can't hear you real good hold on a second" and when Guy #2 was done doing #1, he said "Ok, now I can hear you".

I made sure I took a bit longer than necessary to avoid seeing him washing up lest I bust a rib laughing.

It's official!!!

Robb Allen — Mon, 10 Oct 2005 15:53:00 GMT

The doctor confirmed it – I’m now half the man I used to be!!!*

Oh happy day!

The vasectomy tomorrow will not be live-blogged

Robb Allen — Thu, 11 Aug 2005 16:59:00 GMT

Which I'm sure all of you will be very happy about. But this is more due to the fact that (a) they don't have WiFi at the doc's office and (b) even if they did it would require a laptop. And since my lap will be a little inconvenient place to put anything during the procedure.....

Despair not, though. I'll keep mental notes for later posting.

*This post actually forced me to make a new category – TMI. Enjoy!

My first and quite possibly last post about my penis.

Robb Allen — Mon, 08 Aug 2005 19:41:00 GMT

I love my penis. We've been through a lot together. We’ve had our ups and downs, and being that his eyesight isn’t as good as mine, we’ve had quite a few disagreements as to exactly where he should venture. I regret that he’s managed to slip me a beer or two and win some of those arguments.

Anyway, my wife and I seem to be blessed with a high degree of fertility. After my second daughter, it has come to my attention that it would be best if my penis wasn’t quite the sharpshooter he’s been all these years. My first daughter took less than 3 months of trying, the 2nd barely a month. So I called Dr. Snipdick today expecting a long series of ‘consultations’ and whatnot before he does the deed. Instead I was told I could come in tomorrow if I was ready. I admit that caught me a little off guard.

See, while my wife and I have decided we’re not entirely sure we’re done with kids*, we have decided that the next one would be an adoption. We both know our reproductive systems are in tip top shape, but realize there’s other kids out there who need parents and our love isn’t confined to our own genetic imprints. Besides, I’d plan on adopting some black, Chinese kid and telling him it’s his sisters who are adopted and therefore look different. So, that’s not really the issue.

The issue is discussing this with the 100% all-beef thermometer . How do I break it to him that he will all of a sudden be as effective in creating useful baby batter as the UN is in declaring and stopping genocide? That his position of attention will be remain proud and strong but his salute a little weak? It’s heartbreaking to think the spackle-howitzer will only be capable of firing blanks from now on.

Sigh.

Looking on the bright side, I’ll probably be the only guy in Tampa with ‘Just Neutered’ written on the back of his Jeep in shoe polish.

*The wife has had such massively easy pregnancies she’s thinking about being a surrogate mother. I cannot explain the joy I would take in telling people that my wife is pregnant and the look on their faces when I say, completely dead-pan that it ain’t mine.