Am I Pleased to See You or Did I Just Put a Canoe in My Pocket?

"WOOF!"

First let me get this out of the way, "I was right"! I just knew it was going to be a boy. Perhaps it was the agita (a sure sign there is another man in your life!)? Perhaps it was the early arrival of the pot belly? Perhaps I am a witch who can see the future? Most likely it was the luck of the draw and for once I was on the winning side of a 50/50 wager. I have been rather lucky since receiving my Wee Little Garden Gnome (yes Stef, he is sitting on the fake grass right next to the one you sent years ago).

In honor of Baby D (aka Larry Larry), I thought I should host a "Flash By Name, Flash By Nature - Name the Baby D Contest" because I just think the kid is going to be pretty Flash*. I haven't decided what the prize might be - Perhaps I can interest someone in some Indians tickets? How about a LeBron James Cavs jersey? - but we'll cross that bridge when someone really impresses me. To get you started, I thought I'd provide you with some little known facts about the Baby D:

• Baby D's father, maternal and paternal grandfather, and paternal great grandfather are/were all Larrys so he hails from a long line of Larrys.
  
• Baby D's mama was born and raised in West Unity, Ohio, a town with a stop light. This means you can reach into the Palin lexicon to come up with some really creative names based on geographic locales. So go forth and utilize the "Google Maps" for delightful locations in Northwestern Ohio and please, don't forget your favorite fair food!
  
• No one in Baby D's family has yet employed a bar sinister (that's for you Anglophiles out there) so don't forget the "Thompson"!
  
• Baby D's father spent his youth listening to Rush, AC/DC, KISS, and Judas Priest. He was one of the many few who "didn't see that coming". Feel free to pillage lyrics, song titles, and band member names.

• Baby D's maternal grandmother has an irrational fear of Biblical names so don't be afraid to pick up the good book and peruse its contents for spiritual guidance.
  
• On the other end of the spectrum, Baby D is due the first week of December so that makes him a Sagittarius. According to the "stars", Baby D will be ruled by Jupiter and the Ninth House, his favorable color will be Purple (so go for the Prince), his key body part will be his hips and thighs (perhaps Elvis), and his lucky gem is Topaz (Alfred is going old school but also the name of Baby D's daddy's favorite stuffed dog).
  

In conclusion, I just want to offer a hearty congratulations to Larry and Chris and also to remind them that parenting is a serious business. You need to be cruel to be kind, to know when to give them an inch and when to yank on the leash (literally), and finally, when to say yes to the fauxhawk but perhaps no to the tattooed eyebrows and horns.

Is it just me or does this guy look a little like George?

*If you don't know your Flash, for shame! Watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYNlcLx91PA

And Here in the Bar the Piano Man's Found....

Okay, I had this really great title for this post but I've forgotten it so I've made a "note to self" to start taking notes! Perhaps as I write this it shall come back to me but I really honestly doubt it. My apologies as it was brilliant.

The night starts as each HOB night starts, at Flannery's only tonight Flannery's smells like a frat house (sour beer) and there are gnats everywhere. There are only two empty stools at the bar and those are next to a couple of other empty tools. They are playing some really bad music. One of those stations where every band sounds like Creed or Staind or one of those bands in that genre. I can't tell them apart. At some point the obligatory "If you could only see the way she loves me..." song comes on. As soon as I hear the song start I make the "this might be the worst song in the world" comment and then it happens, Stacey asks if there is a band playing. I look at her, perplexed. It turns out the tool on the stool next to her is singing along to the song, Bud Light can in hand. Well, there's nothing for it but to order the Irish Nachos and move on. As if to somehow apologize to us, they add a side of BBQ sauce. It works. That is the missing piece to the puzzle.

At about 7:30 or so we figure there should be no line at the door and we head over to HOB. We were wrong. There is a line and we have to stand there and find some way to amuse ourselves. To our right, we had images from the "Bodies" exhibit. This is creepy but also amusing because everyone looks Chinese so we begin speaking in our bad Chinese accents. Yes, "we been here for hours" a la Louie Anderson. After that loses it appeal, we start scanning the crowd. Meet Cheap Trick I. Sadly, her friend had back fat poking out of her tube-ish kind of top but I did not get her photo. I determined that she was "at her heavy weight" (copywrite My Mother - she actually made this comment about me earlier in the day - I guess she has relaxed). Actually, now that I think about it, most folks in the crowd are now at their "heavy weight". As we get closer to the door, we feast our eyes on this vision in blue. Cheap Trick II is a very cheap trick indeed. I've always thought that if you have cankles, you don't want to wear shoes that accentuate your (c)ankles. Boy, as I wrong! Short little piggy legs really do look good in lace up cream wedge sandals, especially when paired with an empire waist dress. It's kind of like Jane Austen meets Prospect Avenue (for the non-Clevelanders, that's where the hos are).

We are wrist banded, scanned, and stamped. We use the Ladies Room where I lose my balance and some people think I am drunk. I am not but if I amused them, then I am happy. We get a couple of drinks and find a place to stand to the right of the stage. We have determined that this is mostly a Cheap Trick crowd and not just because the first people we saw were an entire family in black and white Cheap Trick t-shirts. They announce the line up and apparently, CT is on first. This is good news because the floor will clear out but bad news that we have to listen to the entire CT set.

The CT set. Stacey and I are the only two people within eye and ear shot that are completely and utterly bored. Not smitten. "Lips Like Sugar" indifference. "Love Song" indifference. That said, even Stacey can't meet my level of indifference. She dances a bit during "I Want You to Want Me", "Dream Police", and some other song that was a hit that I can't remember. I mostly pee a lot and get us another drink. That is once I have had a chance to drink in their visage. Sadly, we are not close enough for you to get a great view but I can say that they really haven't aged all that well. At certain points the blond guy holds his bad back which really kind of blows the whole rock n' roll image if you know what I mean. I then get so bored I fixate on horrible mental images (does this guy have white pubes and other things I know feel uncomfortable sharing) and what does this dude look like naked. (Please note the "little doggie steps", you know the ones they make for little dogs to jump on your bed, on the black and white platform at the edge of the stage. Apparently these guys can't jump anymore. Oh, wait! Speaking of jumping, the guitarist only gets about two feet off the ground on his split leg jumps.) There is a lot of gratuitous guitar changing, throwing of picks, and creepy smiling at the crowd. At this point you may be asking yourself, "what does a Cheap Trick groupie look like?" Well, there are three "groupie" type chicks at the front of the stage who all have very bleached blond hair and the same hair cut (i.e. David Bowie in Labrynth), bobbing their heads in unison with left or right arm raised in a rock n' roll salute. In fact, it's all very rock n' roll. I always considered CT to be a bit power pop but they're not. It was kind of like a bit of power pop which then morphed into Rush from the Snakes and Arrows tour but without the hope that they will play Working Man or Fly By Night. I will be listening to the Vapors today.

As CT leaves the stage. the floor swap begins. Stacey and I wade the massive exiting crowd - in fact, I haven't seen such a crowd swap this massive since Bauhaus' Coachella appearance although I don't remember who was on before them - maybe Weezer - and make it to the floor. It's relatively pleasant until these two porky lesbians show up. Think purple windbreaker girl if there were two of her, they were fat, and they were hanging all over each other talking very loudly. Very quickly, they annoy everyone in their general vicinity, especially Stacey. When she asks them to keep to their own personal smelly space (it's hotter than hell down there), one comments that "this is the floor so what does she expect". Well, when there is space, you expect people to stay in it. This is not like expecting personal space on the floor for Social Distortion, which I have seen dudes try to make for their bitches. On to Squeeze.
They are so British, so cute, and they have aged well. Chris Difford (left) is adorable with his glasses and his music stand with lyrics and Glenn is snappy in his orange suit and white, white shoes. The guy on keyboards is great despite not being Jools Holland (who is?). The Lesbots have now moved ahead of us and begin to writhe to Black Coffee in Bed. Thankfully, after they offer me some Nicorette, they clear. The set is marred by a couple of things: a new album and the omission of one of my favorite songs. Nonetheless, Stacey and I soldier on and dance our asses off. As usual, I am sweating from the head like nobody's business. No one around us does more than sway occasionally. They play a new song which sounds like something any band at any Holiday Inn bar would play (I am bitter about this as you will see below), Goodbye Girl (it's awesome), Slap N' Tickle, that crappy Temptation song (I really don't care so much after Jools left), Cool For Cats (we did sing it loud and proud for Dean), Up the Junction, and on and on. I assume we will get Pulling Mussels From a Shell and Another Nail from My Heart for the encores. Well, we got the Mussels but not the Nail. I leave, drenched and slightly heartbroken but with the knowledge that I will always have the Rib Burn Off!

We decide that we must do our bit to keep them in the style they deserve and buy over priced t-shirts. Stacey gets the one with the Squeeze logo (see above) and I get a bright mustard yellow number with red ketchup letters that says "I Quite Like Squeeze". Yeah, baby.

Time to go home. It's hot, the top is down, and we are blasting "Another Nail From My Heart" on the stereo. As we stop at Superior and East 9th, there is a firetruck. As one we shout, "Hey Firemen!" and then realize the top is down and that was our loud outside voice. We laugh and then as we turn the corner, we get two honks from the Firetruck! Take that Cheap Trick hos!

Marley & Me

So there it is. Herr Doctor removed the Steri-Strips yesterday and for the first time, I cried "Ouch!" Not once during the four radioactive injections in my face, the needles in my arms and hands, the 100 stitches or their removal but only when the good doctor pulled those little strips from my neck and face. Hey, it hurts when those little hairs are pulled out of your head!

Okay, it's kind of ugly but you can't see it head on and it's only been sixteen days since the surgery. I am told that the lumps and bumps are normal and I believe they should subside as everything heals. But I am jumping ahead! I had a female resident who came in and checked things out in general and talked to me about how I was doing. I decided not to mention the whole Ferengi thing as she didn't look like she liked the Sci-Fi. So, I told her fine and that I really wanted these damned strips off and to work out again. She promised Herr Doctor would take them off and that he'd probably give me the okay on the exercise. She then left and I sat bored out of my mind for about 10 minutes.

When Herr Doctor came in, he had the same resident plus another. The first thing out of his mouth was "Oh, what happened there?" I explained the body check and that Doctor Woodhouse (yes, I will always go to him even if he spells his name wrong) didn't like the one on the side of my nose. He said it was odd but not in a bad melanoma kind of way. He kind of just smiled and shook his head. When it rains it pours. I gave him the Godiva chocolate from my mother and said, Now you have to share"! He then starts pulling off this strips (insert ouches) and says, "You don't mind if I talk about you..." "Like I am not here" says I. "No, knock your socks off" I tells him. He then describes how the skin on my cheek used to be all the way over there as I think "and it feels like it wants to go back". He tells them that it was odd that I had this on my cheek so young and then refers to the man they had just seen who had one in the same spot (this would be the guy who had surgery two days before me) but he was twice my age. I then shout, "He was 100?" Herr Doctor says, "Wait, how old are you" and we all laugh. The man was like 92 so they gave me a few years. Ta.

He then gives me the drill. Lumps and bumps. I can buy expensive creams for the scar but he suggests using Vitamin E capsules (which I have just done) and tells me to always wear sunscreen there to protect from scarring. I can work out (I did forty five minutes on the treadmill this morning) and I don't have to come back for two months. He still wants to see me regularly even though I am in a very low risk group (in fact, it is 97 out of 100 people in my group will never have further issues).

So now it's Marley & Me. Had he had that toe checked out sooner, he'd still be smiling, smoking, and fathering children. Scars suck but it's a lot better than the alternative! Ride natty, ride!

It's Benign, Bitch!

So this post is a little late but I was just too happy yesterday. From now on, I think I shall always celebrate June 25. Why not. It was a good day.

I still have Ferengi ear and I feel like a 75 year old on my left side but all my facial muscles work. Who's complaining? Not me.

BSpot tomorrow night and Squeeze is 7/11. Hopefully I can dance by then.

Out with the Old, In with the Glue!

Meet my new face! I went to see Herr Doctor this morning and he removed my stitches - all 100 or so of them. I believe that elevates me to the NHL in terms of sheer number of stitches in my face. It pinched and it felt like he was pulling out my hem, which he was because I guess it was all one very long thread. I am glad they are out but everything is throbbing a bit.

After he took them out and cleaned the area, he put some glue on the incision and added the lovely steri-strips you see here. So I feel less like Frankenstein and more like a crafts project. I keep these for about two weeks.

He didn't have the biopsy results back (Thursday most likely) but he went over the information he gave me after the surgery - 100% of which I didn't remember - and told me a little bit more about what they did. The surgery went very well and they did remove a portion of parotid gland and tested that during surgery. That was clear. I asked if that was a good sign and he said "yes". My ear is huge because they detached it from the rest of my face and replaced the skin with some from my neck. The tightness is from the mini-face lift. They did move muscles so that is why I am sore. I've got some severed nerves that will eventually re-attach themselves and begin to work so it will feel like my face again. Eventually. He said I had beautiful skin (charmer) so it should heal nicely but there will always be a loss of feeling.

I can't work out yet because I can't get my heart rate up so that kind of sucks but I can go back to working in my garden.

It's Just a Flesh Wound!

So there it is. I am stiff, my ear hurts a little bit, my throat is sore from the tube but I am oddly okay. I'd like to think of myself as the best patient ever.

Admissions did not have the information to send me to Nuclear Medicine (that's just wrong) so I told them and went down there. This was by far the worst part of the day. I had to get four injections of that radioactive stuff in my left cheek. It really did feel like I was being assimilated by the Borg and I had visions of blue veins growing on my face. I was told to then pretend like I was chewing to move the stuff around and I got under the camera. This lasted for an hour and forty-five minutes to no avail. They could not identify the sentinel lymph node and I was now fifteen minutes late for surgery so they sent me up without pictures. So I was still not having much luck with this thing.

In pre-op, I was told I'd need to pee in a cup because UH requires pregnancy tests for females of child bearing age (at least I am sill in that group). I then told them about Aunt Flo and we all had a good laugh. I get into my lovely gown and they whisk me away to my chamber where 30 people descend upon me. They've been waiting for me. All of them. Everyone asking me the same questions. The nurses are struggling with the new software and I giggle as they apologize. I tell them what I do for a living. Anesthesia sticking IVs in my hands, nurses sticking sticky things on me, residents telling me about the surgery and that depending on the size of the "flap" (see above), I might have to stay the night. I am bummed but one night is better than two days. Herr Doctor pops by and sits on my bed. I apologize for being a problem but he says, "It happens" and they had a guy with one in the same place yesterday - although his was 4 mm! - and it was hard to find the SLN. They would try a couple of different probes in surgery and if that didn't work, he'd wake me up and we could decide whether to just watch the area or take out all the lymph nodes. I am still waiting for a break here but I remain cheerful. One of the anesthetists asks me if I want the relaxation drug before I go and I say, "hell yeah". It's awesome. They drag my mother and godmother in so I can wave to them and were off to the OR. I don't remember why or how we got on the topic but as we arrived I was giving everyone in the OR my favorite drink recipes, including an electric lemonade. They put on the oxygen masks and Laura went sleepy time.

It was sunny. And green. I was in my garden and someone was calling "Laura. Laura." I woke up and it was three o'clock. I was drowsy for about 15 minutes but after that, fine. I had more really nice nurses struggling with the software, giving the IT people the vendor sent the stink eye. I told her she shouldn't let it keep her up and night and that they (the nurses) would work it out together. The male resident stops by and tells them they are sending me home. I beam and say "sweet". They ask me to rate my pain level from 1 to 10 and I say "1". I am the happiest girl in recovery until they bring Dennis out of surgery. He doesn't want to wake up and his nurse is yelling at him and yelling at him. Now I might be a little delusional but when I heard "Laura", it was just someone calling out to me. Not like Dennis. He does wake up but then moans and moans and moans and moans! I have a Coke and some Lorna Doone cookies and then my nurse tells me she is handing me off to someone else (on the other side of recovery where they discharge you) and that I have been the best patient. See, I am not just bragging.

I am so happy to be away from Dennis that I munch delightedly on my cookies and smile as I meet my new nurse. She is also great. I am enjoying the relative tranquility and then Neil comes out of surgery. He makes Dennis seem like a champ. Not only will he not wake up, he is in distress or so it seems. I could tell the nurse was alarmed. She was checking to make sure he hadn't had a stroke. He didn't. Then he told them he was in pain but he wasn't. This went on for some time. They sent in my mother and godmother and we chatted while they found my clothes. I finally got to use the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror, my hair looked perfectly Flock of Seagulls. As I walked out, I told the nurse at the counter that I thought I'd leave my hair like this. She laughed.

So that is about it. I get my stitches out in 6 days.

Don't Cry for Me Argentina!

Uncle Mike won't allow it. Neither will I. As Homer said last night, "I don't want to talk about it". Maybe later baby but not now.

How y'all are then? I am happy for you to see me I guarantee! I miss Justin. That man could work a pork butt. I feel like Charlotte on a walk....focus!

Okay, where was I. Oh yeah, Indians game 3 and the sun is out. 12:05 start. The smell of fresh cut timber! The crash of mighty trees! My best gal by my side... Uh oh, channeling again.

So I am not a marketing wiz but I can say that if I did promotions at "The Pro", I might make Corona and Dos Equis my beer special on Cinco de Mayo. In fact, I might even open the special Corona/Dos Equis stand on a day such as today and perhaps do a deal on nachos and beer. Alas, the special was some draft ale and a rum drink. Well done my friend whoever you are.

The crowd is sparse (in fact the crowd is so sparse they had to school bus the kids in like a McCain-Palin rally) but as usual our section is full. In front of us are four guys from Parma. Now, I don't know for sure that they are from Parma (in fact, I am pissing in the wind here) but I might bet the farm. My only regret is that I was not able to get Dude Number 2's t-shirt in the photo. It was a lovely number. A souvenir from a trip to Florida. I know this because under the alligator graphic, it says "FLORIDA". It's awesome. He giggles like a girl although he did laugh when I said "where's the Benny Hill music when you need it". We suck except for Choo.

Pornstache was working the game and I tried to get his attention a lot by calling out "Hey, Pornstache". Admittedly, this might not be the best thing to yell at a Cleveland cop but I kind of get the feeling he'd dig it. Still no zoom but I don't feel a Tribe post would be complete without him.

Harry Shine was also there (credit Joanna). He was a lot hairier and a lot shinier in person. It was a sweaty day.


The Indians Hawaiian shirt is apparently what all the guys are wearing this season.


We saw three in our section alone. It's versatile and looks "good" with jeans, khakis, or Bermuda shorts.





At this point, I suppose I should discuss the game. We were in the lead or tied for the majority of the game and then, "it" happened. The bottom of the 8th inning. The Blue Jays (who now wear black - wtf?) were kind of sort of threatening and Acta decides now would be a good time to make a call to the Bullpen and bring in Chris Perez. I start booing. I boo him as he drags his satchel ass (credit my dad) to the mound. I boo him as he warms up. I make disparaging comments as he strikes out 2 to end the inning. I am not impressed. I know that even though Acta should take this as a sign from the heavens that he should count his lucky stars and put anyone else on the mound for the 9th, he won't. I've just lived through the hell that was the 3rd period in Detroit last night so I know it's coming. The fans around me are suckers, nay idiots. They cheer him as the first two batters go down. I don't. I am waiting for it. As everyone stands to cheer Satchel Ass to victory, I wait for it. Oh, look! Down 0 and 2 on the count and he throws up a nice juicy fat ball. It goes to center field for a base hit. A couple of guys a few rows in front of us contemplate the stupidity of the pitch. I yell something like "It's Perez, come on! He sucks!" There is an error and another body on the bases. That's two and we were up by two with the game losing run at the plate. Perez coughs up the long ball. 5 - 4 Black Jays. There is another error and we get out of the inning to not rally in the bottom of the 9th. I now have a special new chant:

Daduh duh duh duh duh! Duh duh duh duh duh! Duh duh duh duh duh . . . Pe-rez sucks!

A Douche