Blogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. No longer in the 'hood. Now, somewhere in the Carolinas. The stories are priceless and endless.
I
started this off naming one of James Thurber's funniest stories,
because it rings so true for my own life, which has been an endless
series of confusion, pratfalls and just plain idiocies. I could jump
in just any old place, and come up with some stupidity or other;
either mine or someone who is close to me. Being homeless for eleven
months just helped to enrich that craziness.
So,
not very long ago, on the 15th anniversary of my mother's
death, I discovered through my own pulmonary doctor, that my own
copd, which had taken her life, will not take mine. The last symptom,
the scar tissue that inhibits exhalations seems to be gone, according
to my pulmonary specialist. When I discovered that I had copd, I made
it my mission to try and help others – as well as myself – and
began going through Clinical Trials; I have been in one trial or
another since 2012. To say that this is startling news, really throws
shade on how important this is. In the past, the most people could
hope for, was that their copd could be arrested, and if the patient
had quit smoking – which I did in 2010 – there should be no
worsening, although that is not always the case.
My
mother had a genetic predisposition to copd, just as she did to
essential tremor – although, alas, she was never diagnosed or
treated for essential tremor. I just know it from consultation with
my own neurologist and discussion with my aunt, who is a terrific
observer of such things. Both of these traits show up on the same
genetic strand of DNA. And I know this how? By reading my own medical
chart. These are primarily the only true medical weaknesses we
possess, lest you count the pure bat-shit insanity and pure
cussedness on both sides of my family.
Anyway,
as I mentioned earlier, most people who quit smoking don't get worse,
but by the time my mom quit smoking it was very late in the game; she
had 13% lung function. I had 43% lung function when I started my
Clinical Trials, but within 2 years, it had gone up to 90%, however,
I still had those damnable scars that made exhalations and true
exertions very hard on me.
Well,
it had dawned on me somewhere after I did Japan – read “Mr. Bean
Does Japan”, after I lost my blind cane - that I didn't have that
“elephant sitting on my chest” feeling at all. Me essential
tremor was being a mess, but I'm generally a mess and don't pay that
any mind; it won't kill me. And then, last Monday, I had a thought
(and no, it didn't get lonely and leave), but I needed a hill to try
out my thought.
I
had to go to my bank, which is up a small hill facing Nebraska
Avenue. I went and got the rent, and then went back down the hill.
Then, I ran as fast as I could – I was a runner in high school –
back up the hill, and capered and danced around, chortling to myself
and just having a fine time. I did this for about 20 minutes, without
ever getting out of breath.
I
told my “pretend adopted son” Alex about this episode and he
said, “You just know someone saw you and said, there goes another
Nebraska Avenue loon!” So, we had a good laugh about that.
On
Wednesday night however, I pulled an even bigger stunt. I'm a
restless sleeper. I always have been and it was a latent sign of my
essential tremor. At least, I never sat up in bed and jacked my
better 2/3s in the eye, as is the case with my mom, when she gave my
dad a black eye. When he said “Ow! What did you do that for?” She
was all huffy with her response: “Just be glad you're a fish! You
can write on Sundays!” I'm sure untold generations will be
pondering the profundity of that meaning. My dad said sleeping with
me when I was tiny was like sleeping with a bulldozer. My poor dad.
Anyway,
somehow, I'd gotten turned around and was sleeping with me head,
where my feet should be. I woke up at some point, thirsty and was
looking for my water bottle. I saw it, and reached for it-wtf????
I
fell out of the bed, and landed on my head and shoulders with my feet
up in the air. I lay there and laughed like a loon for about 20
minutes, feet still in the air, before I recovered enough to pull
myself up and get back in the bed, with my water bottle. It is a good
thing that I'm still so limber and agile, because there are times I
don't have one brain cell in my head.
Sorry PSY; I love you and Berklee College should be proud, but fun. rules!
The title says it all.
This post is about all of the stuff in 2012 that made me laugh. When I laugh, I
feel young. And dammit, I love to laugh; it is the best high, the best drug in
the world and I love to share it with people. I don’t care how stupid it is; I
laugh at a lot of stupid stuff and myself as well. When I lived at FSJ,
homeless shelter, there were a few of us who laughed all the time, at, well the
expense of others… but they didn’t know they were being laughed at, so it was
okay… sort of. Anyway, moving on, here’s some of the funny shit of 2012, in no
particular order; stuff that made me laugh and I want you to all laugh too:
I’ve tried to tell you why
this is one of the most serious funny pieces I’ve ever read, but I can’t stop
laughing long enough. The dialog between Andi-Roo and her Hubz, talking to
Andi-Roo’s mom, the dawning horror of Andi-Roo when she realizes what the nurse
really means by “safe at home,” and it’s not big shards of glass on the floor
or cleaning her ears with a knife, or the “dumb-ish” nurse, the whole piece is
flat-out hysterical, even on like the 5th reading.
I've heard the adjective "fearless" applied to ol' Nic here. Maybe he should get some. Fear, I mean.
2) Is actually a post I can’t find, but it has this very boffo
picture of Nic Cage in bear suit in “Wicker Man,” a remake of the 1973
“classic.” I do have the picture and I’ve posted it here for you to enjoy, but back to Nic;
I never saw either of the “Wicker Man” movies; the older is supposedly classic,
but I hear the newer one sucks out loud. I ran across this picture in a “Worst Movie
of…” on Cracked.com. There are not enough superlatives to describe what I felt upon seeing this
picture. Feel free to supply your own.
*Burp* I wonder if I have Briefcase-Breath?
3) Lion Drome. I actually thought JC was going to have
to take me to the hospital for this. I literally stopped breathing during this
awesome post on Cracked.com by Robert Brockway. Having “PD or non-PD, that is
the question,” for some reason, also causes me to laugh harder and cry harder
and to call Mr. Brockway, “Bwockway” for some reason. I hope he has gotten over
that. I bought his book, too. Eventually, I may be able to read it. If my eyes
ever settle down. In March. In the meantime, check out this “Executive Lion,”
or better yet, read his whole post @
4) This is something that I ran across in our freebie newspaper
that comes out 5 days a week, the Tampa Bay Times. It’s called the “Zim Bear.”
The link connects to the whole post and the post itself is interesting for a
couple of reasons. I wrote it during a very brief period of lucidity, when I
was writing my S.I.F.O.T.S. blog, on March 2, 2012. It’s actually kind of
hilarious, in hindsight, now. February 29th, 2012, I wrote,
“Chthulhu Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” which was wishful thinking on my part. He
lives here part-time now. I just collect the mail and water his plants. I
really should write a follow up post, “Chthulhu, is that Yhouhlhu?” but I so
confused myself just trying to type that, I think I’ll leave that moment of
whimsy alone.
So, the rest of THAT month
is pretty sketchy and some of this I don’t remember, but this is when the
tremors moved in and stayed, along with my bipolar symptoms, for real. If I
weren’t so damned rational and old, I’d probably have jumped off the roof. The
fact that I understand what is going on, makes all of the weirdness pretty easy
to deal with. That and the hella medicines my psychiatrist makes sure I get. The
Tampa Police Department are good to me as well. “PD or non-PD, THAT is the
question?”
5) Oh! Speaking of. @YumaBev. I cannot have a list of hilarity
without the Numero Uno funniest lady on the planet! Funny was still abed when
she got up. Over at Parkinson’s Humor, I couldn’t believe it when she was
trying to figure out a way to live blog her DBS surgery! Yup! That’s our girl!
Only Bev would come up with that corker! A crappy day won’t dare show it’s face
around her! I laugh just thinking about her. YumaBev is one of those people
that when you think of her, you’re glad to be a member of the human race; she’s
that great. Without her and others like her, Jim and Penny Adams, Cyndee Bowen,
and P.A.N.D.A., all tireless workers,
their grace and insights, it would be so hard for anyone with Parkinson’s or
any Movement Disorder to understand and deal with and try to navigate any of
the medical care systems and understand more importantly, the symptoms. Bev and
her (now mine, too) buddies are reassuring, and fun. Back to more fun.
Check out Bev's websites Parkinson's Humor and YumaBev.com and @YumaBev on Twitter. Her book Parkinson's Humor is available on Amazon.com and the proceeds go towards a cure for the disease. A worthier woman and a dearer one to my heart, would be hard to find in this hemisphere.
6) Spiders. Yeah, I know. Most of the world (of 15 readers?) just jumped off my
blog, ¼ of you went ewww!. The rest of us went, SQUEE!! It depends on the type
of spider. Nikki McCormack wrote about them and started with the cute little
fuzzy type of jumpers and I can’t believe anyone thinks those are icky or
scary. We have a batch of them that live on our porch banister and they have
their little territories staked out. Once in a while, they bump into one
another and jump! Turn and dart off, very synchronized. I think they’re cute as
hell. They stay outside and don’t intrude on anyone else’s space. I loved
Nikki’s description of Harvester spiders; something about walking death, as I
recall.
We did have an interloper;
a brown recluse got in the house, when we were living in the homeless shelter.
JC got him, we were moving anyway; that was just a little added incentive. We
had already been dealing with bedbugs. We didn’t need rotting flesh on top of
that.
Anyway, check out the
world’s funniest video on why not to film a jumping spider:
7) So, this gets us to the 2012 Presidential election, with all the signs, portents and many important issues and timely questions and serious discussions. The tone was pretty well set by the world's largest and continuous, party,
Twitter. I thought that after 2000, the election was an aberration, because it took a month. It turned out I was wrong. The election of 2012, according to who you listened to, was a continual ongoing work of art, a Noh drama, bushido in style, or a train-wreck. Romney, Ryan, Rovian and nothing less than epic. The fact that Hurricane Sandy intervened and Governor Chris Christie got to play Orestes to Romney's Agemnon made it all the more epic-er! What made it so extra-fun was being IN Twitter and reading and
sometimes even trying to come up with witticisms in reaction to the shit that
one Mitt Romney was saying, however, our fearless leader, President Obama was
holding his own, and Mr. Chuck Wendig an awesome, awesome writer, who blogs "Terrible Minds" was also adding to the hilarity with his
#fakedebate; once again, JC was at the ready, poised to dial 911, when I came
up for air:
I can honestly say that I have never, ever enjoyed political discourse so much. I am sure that Mark Twain, H.L. Mencken et. al,, would agree.
8) Winding this up, I thought I’d include one of my own
idiocies. I come from a family that celebrates its idiocies, much in the way
Rome allowed her generals to celebrate victories with triumphs. The only
dilemma here is which of my many stupidities garners the honor.
Could it be the time I
followed myself on my own blog? That was a good one, but wasn’t really all that
complicated and didn’t require the level of air-headedness or denseness
necessary, nor the prolonged state of confusion I typically exhibit.
How about the time I
“rebutted” Andi-Roo on a #ROW80 post about
Suicide and then, in a swift, rapier-like and extremely cunning move, worthy of
Errol Flynn and Dr. No, I submitted MY post title, with HER verbiage, so SHE
rebutted HERSELF? The editor, Wayne Borean was probably swamped; knows us both
and just went with it. The twin posts festered around on the internet and on
Paper.li for a few hours before I caught the error and fixed it. A huge MEA
CULPA followed and lots of falling on my cyber-sword. Andi-Roo, was vastly
amused, as I knew she would be. Thanks Zeus for that wonderful woman. Had it
been anyone else, I would have had to change my name and move to Neptune.
That’s not really quite showy enough. I could go back and scratch around in my
old blog posts and what not, but I’m just too damned lazy.
This stupid Parkinson’s
Disease, not-Parkinson’s Disease, that is the question leaves me tie-rd. I sleep
11 or 12 hours a night sometimes. I got up today around noon. Ate breakfast,
took vitamins and I’m ready for a nap. I digress. PD, or non-PD seems to be a
lot like the elephant in the room. I keep wanting to pretend that everything is
the same, but my damned brain will not allow for that.
So, I’ve got what seems to
be a perpetual geek show in my head. Everything is weird. “Chthulhu is that
Yhoulhu?” should be a sit-com in my head. Anyway, the last thing that I did
that counts for a stellar idiocy that had me laughing for a while, was this
doozy:
This is what happens when I cook
Now, to top it off,
yesterday, when I was getting off the bus at the grocery store, this topped it
off. There was a little round woman, very jolly, a sort of Mrs. Claus type,
saying “God Bless,” to one and all as they exited. I, as everyone knows, am a
hardwired creature, like a cat. I do the same thing, every time. I get up, cane
and all and brace myself for the next stop. I don’t like to stand in one place
too long. I prefer to be a moving target, as it were. She says something about
me not falling, or am I okay, or am I really blind and I hear her say “Or is
that your hustle?” It didn’t register for a minute. I stood there, with a blank look, so she repeated herself. I grinned and said, “It’s
3 things; it makes a good weapon, too.” We both laughed, as I got off the bus. That shit cracked me
up. I know I haven't blogged for a few weeks. I've been deliberately lying low, due to my neurological whatever, which is a bore, but there it is. I am pleased and proud to announce that I will be hosting Jade Kerrion's Double Helix Tour on Wednesday, January 2, 2013! She is a wonderful writer and just a wonderful person. To celebrate the launch of Perfect Betrayal and Perfect Weapon, Perfection Unleashed will be available for only 0.99 at Amazon, (down from $2.99) for the duration of Jade's virtual book tour through March 1, 2013. Her writing is thrilling and I think, prophetic in many ways.
