Category Archives: I Can’t Get No

Do Me A Favor?

“Lease,” said my parents, or my older siblings, “would you do me a favor?”

Mostly I did it, whatever “it” was.  Or my brother, Fred, did it.  We were the youngest, and were the runners, who went to get a Coke, or a pretzel, or a snack for our older family members. Even now, we’re still doing favors.

But there was one “favor” that none of my siblings did for Fred and me.  But they should have.

You know if you’ve been reading my blogs, that my eldest brother Bob recently died.  He didn’t do this favor for me.  Neither did my sister Beth, who died in 2009.  Nor did Judy, who kicked the bucket unexpectedly in 2000.  Nobody knows when they’re going.

DO YOUR FAMILY MEMBERS A FAVOR. 

MAKE A WILL.  MAKE A LIVING WILL AND A MEDICAL DIRECTIVE. 

TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT DONE WITH YOUR REMAINS.  WITH YOUR STUFF.

My brother Bob died without a will.  Actually, he DID have a will, and a Power of Attorney — we found that he’d bought forms to be filled out, but they were still in the shrink-wrap.  I wanted to kill him. Without letting anybody know IN WRITING, what he wanted done with what, it was all guesswork.

Yes, when he was deathly ill, I had to trust my wonky memory of random conversations of what he would want.  I hope I remembered correctly, given that he died and I can’t change any of those decisions.  What did he want done regarding “heroic” measures by the doctors? What should we  do with his remains — burial? cremating?  And then what to do with those remains …

Did we do what he’d want?  I hope so.  We certainly tried.

Do yourself and your family members a favor.  Or maybe a few favors:

  • Make a will, even a simple one.  Let someone know where you keep it!
  • Do a living will, so that your wishes will be followed — and make sure family members know where it is.
  • Talk about what you want to do with your remains.  Burial?  Where? Cremation?  Where do you want those ashes to end up?

We took Bob to see one last sunset, before releasing him into the Gulf of Mexico.  I hope he is happy and resting in peace.

Bob in Adirondack chairs

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Filed under 2018, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Adult Traumas, Advice from an Expert Patient, Brothers, Clusterfuck, Curses!, Death, Family, Health, Holy Shit, I Can't Get No, Illness, Just Do It and I'll Shut Up!, Living Will, Make a Will

A Royal Flush

It’s hard to think of Switzerland without thinking about money.

After all, that’s where I personally hide my ill-gotten gains; isn’t it where you stored yours?  Zurich is flush with cash — but it’s nothing to Geneva, home to private banking with a twist.

Beau-Rivages

Above is a picture of my favorite Geneva hotel.  Oh, no, I never stayed there.  But it is conveniently located on the waterfront in Geneva, and it has the most delightful bathrooms in the lobby.   It’s like hitting the jackpot of potties.

But in all of the times I slipped in there to use the facilities, I never once got any money there.  After the article I just read, I gotta say, I was gypped.  Cheated. Scammed.

Maybe I should have gone to a restaurant for my pitt stop.

Because three different restaurants in the financial district of Geneva had their toilets stopped up with €500 notes, each of which is worth about $600.  Yup.  It’s true.

Geneva toilets flush with cash

It seems that they were flushed down a toilet and, well, what came up would make Jed Clampett happy.

Me?  I would have loved to get something back for my years of running to the bathroom.  I didn’t.  So I’m pissed.

 

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Filed under 2017, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, All The News You Need, Assholes, Class Act, Criminal Activity, Dreams, Dying Dreams, Europe, Geneva Stories, Holy Shit, Huh?, Humor, I Can't Get No, Not something you hear about every day, Oh shit, Seriously weird, Stupid things happen in other countries too! Who knew!

Warning. Do not try this at home. Or anywhere else.

Yes, I realize that it’s been a while since I granted you all the benefits of my fake medical expert advice.  Sorry.

It’s just that poop news has been rather crappy lately.  What’s a specialist to do?

So for this post, I’m going to go out on a ledge.  Write what I don’t know.  Venture into a whole ‘nuther area of specialization.  I feel qualified because this area of specialty is in the same, errrr,  ball park.  Geographically speaking.  Certainly based on adolescent conversation, anyway.

You see, I read an article recently that inspired me to post after a pretty long hiatus

Doctors warn women against putting wasp nests in their vaginas

Now I don’t know about you, but this particular insert isn’t one I’ve personally ever considered.  Maybe I’m just weird.

To be fair to the women who have done this mind-bending medical procedure, the procedure does not involve vaginal insertion of a wasp nest that looks like this one, with buzzing wasps going in and out:

Wasp nest.jpg

Image by ABC Wildlife

On the other hand, maybe something buzzing and going in and out is the whole idea behind the procedure.  But I digress.

Actually, the procedure involves ground up wasp eggs called “galls.”

170601-wasp-nest-vagina

This is a Getty Image, copied from the article

These are Oak leaf “galls” in case you want to make your own.

Galls are wasp larvae, left on the bottoms of oak leaves.  They are ground up and inserted into the vagina to tighten it and to cleanse it.  Okay …

As a fake medical expert, I think I  can safely say that this sounds like a particularly shitty idea.

You know, it never occurred to me that there might be a need to warn women to not put wasp nests, even ground up wasp nests, into their vaginas.

Then again, I never thought it would be necessary to tell women to not vote for a man who believed he could grab their vagina because he was famous, either.

My bad.

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How I’ll Protest the AHCA

It’s all been said already.  The GOP bill, TrumpDoesn’tCare, sucks.  And frankly, I am unable to find the funny in the fact that the current leaders just sold us down the River Styx, on our way to hell.

I feel it personally, deeply.  I honestly fear for the future of myself and everybody like me with a preexisting condition.  Everybody with a chronic condition that requires expensive medicine.  Mine costs $26K every six weeks.  Over the 5 years of the “pool” the GOP added to the AHCA, I’ll use $1 million just by myself.  Because of poop problems.

Folks keep telling me that I’m over-reacting, that this bill will never pass the Senate.  And that’s true.  But I have no faith that the Senate version will be much better, only different.  After all, it is run by the folks who literally stole a supreme court seat.  Does anybody really believe that these guys will do the right thing?

So clearly there is only one response that I have to Donald Trump and the House GOP.

If you hear about somebody doing this at the White House or on Capitol Hill, just pretend you don’t know me.

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There’s a Name For That!

Feeling down in the mouth?  Discouraged?  Hopeless?

You’re not alone.

When I’m suffering with something-or-other, it really helps to know that I’m not alone.  Since November 9, 2016, there’s been a veritable epidemic of misery sweeping the nation.  Relax, though.  Because your misery now has a name, an actual diagnosis:

‘Post-Election Stress Disorder’

We’re all suffering from PESD.  Although frankly, I don’t know why they needed a new diagnosis.  Because if the election of Donald Trump doesn’t represent a traumatic event, I don’t know what does.

The only treatment is action.

 

 

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Annual Tune’s Up

It’s that time again.  I’m gonna make you listen to this song:

Yeah, you guessed it.  It’s my birthday.  I am, not surprisingly since I have been blogging under the stupid blog name FiftyFourAndAHalf for 5 and a half years, well, I’m older today.

Old.  Probably older than you; probably shorter than you, too.  Life just ain’t fair.  I’m older and shorter than people I can’t even see…

Today is my 60th birthday.  I’m not a big fan of my birthday, for reasons you can find here:  Still, it’s a day.  A decade.  Something to celebrate with my husband and son and good food and cake.  Gotta have cake.

And it’s something that is way better than the alternative.  Yup.  Way better.

To the handful who have been along with me since I was, actually 54-1/2, thanks for all the times we’ve laughed and cried together.  To my  new blogging buddies, welcome again.  Thank you for stopping by; I hope you stick around.

Blogging has been a wonderfully fun way to spend time over these last 5-1/2 years, and counting, cause I’m not planning to stop.  I see no reason to stop.

Because people my age are getting gross. So what else can we do?  :/

Love you guys!

 

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Don’s Johns

Sometimes a metaphor actually plops into your lap.  Or your hands.  Or into someplace you hope you don’t drop your cell phone.

That happened to me today, when I read an article in the Huffington Post about one of the, ahem, priorities, of the folks setting up Friday’s Inauguration of Donald J. Trump.  And really, it is a metaphor for what is to come.

You see, whenever there is a big event here in the DC area, there’s a lot of shit going on.  Literally.  Lots of people = lots of pee and poop!  So port-a-potties line the Mall, surround the Monuments; and ring the Capitol itself.  And in the DC area, one company has the scoop on poop.

dons-johns

Photo Caption  Don’s John’s.com

But, according to the Huffington Post,

Someone’s Covering The ‘Don’s Johns’ Logo On Port-a-Potties For Trump’s Inauguration

When I saw that headline, my first thought was, “Of course they are.  They’re covering up all kinds of shit.”  But this time they’re not covering up the shit, but the name.

dons-johns-2

Photo Credit:  Michael Showalter for the NY Post

Of course folks are covering up Don’s shit.  But it’s up to us to pull off the tape and show the world Don’s Johns.  That will be our job for the duration of Trump’s presidency — whether that is for 2 weeks or 4 years.  To pull off the tape on Don’s Johns.  To expose every breach of law, each unethical behavior, all threats to the rule of law.

THAT is how we will survive Trump.  Because you can’t paper over the truth for long.

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