Side Effects May Include . . .
Don't have the juice for a long thought today.
I've seen two doctors, a specialist, a pharmacist, and a member services practitioner.
Who would have thought that an egomaniac like myself would become physically drained by talking about himself all morning? But there you go.
Yet I think we can all agree that standing in line at the pharmacy is quite possibly one of life's least pleasant adventures, somewhere between delivering a child and a Jerry Lewis marathon.
I always get about halfway through the line before I start to question what I find more excruciating, the pain or the line itself. I usually come to the conclusion that its the line that is more devastating, but seeing as how I've already made the investment of half my day, I continue on like the good little communist I am.
Nice thing is that this new nerve medication is also an anti-depressant.
So I've got that going for me. Side effects may include curly red hair, a dog named Sandy, and a penchant for show tunes.
I break out into song all the time anyway, so I don't think the neighbors will notice a difference.
The other medication, A Non Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory, is totally bereft of musical theater humor. It is and does exactly what it says it does.
Take it with food.
If one doesn't work, take two.
If two doesn't work, take six.
If six doesn't work, take seven.
May cause intestinal bleeding.
I guess doc . . . if you think it's best.
Except, . . . wait a minute . . . okay, here's something reasonably terrifying.
Side effects may include erectile dysfunction.
Huh.
I just can't imagine myself ever saying "Sorry Honey, not tonight." I mean, I'm not a machine, but there are parts of my anatomy that I would very much like to continue being useful on demand. I can give up cigarettes and In and Out Burgers for the greater cause, but lets not get crazy here. There's a line that needs to be drawn. This is neither the time nor the place to consider a sacrifice on that scale.
The very thought makes my intestines bleed.
However, there is a solution.
But it will require standing in another line.
And now I have some thinking to do.
I've seen two doctors, a specialist, a pharmacist, and a member services practitioner.
Who would have thought that an egomaniac like myself would become physically drained by talking about himself all morning? But there you go.
Yet I think we can all agree that standing in line at the pharmacy is quite possibly one of life's least pleasant adventures, somewhere between delivering a child and a Jerry Lewis marathon.
I always get about halfway through the line before I start to question what I find more excruciating, the pain or the line itself. I usually come to the conclusion that its the line that is more devastating, but seeing as how I've already made the investment of half my day, I continue on like the good little communist I am.
Nice thing is that this new nerve medication is also an anti-depressant.
So I've got that going for me. Side effects may include curly red hair, a dog named Sandy, and a penchant for show tunes.
I break out into song all the time anyway, so I don't think the neighbors will notice a difference.
The other medication, A Non Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory, is totally bereft of musical theater humor. It is and does exactly what it says it does.
Take it with food.
If one doesn't work, take two.
If two doesn't work, take six.
If six doesn't work, take seven.
May cause intestinal bleeding.
I guess doc . . . if you think it's best.
Except, . . . wait a minute . . . okay, here's something reasonably terrifying.
Side effects may include erectile dysfunction.
Huh.
I just can't imagine myself ever saying "Sorry Honey, not tonight." I mean, I'm not a machine, but there are parts of my anatomy that I would very much like to continue being useful on demand. I can give up cigarettes and In and Out Burgers for the greater cause, but lets not get crazy here. There's a line that needs to be drawn. This is neither the time nor the place to consider a sacrifice on that scale.
The very thought makes my intestines bleed.
However, there is a solution.
But it will require standing in another line.
And now I have some thinking to do.
Harvest Time
Tomatoes are red
Peppers are green
Zucchini is phalic
Aww yeah penis joke.
Its harvest time here on Wait . . . Dad? Farms, time to lace up those old hiking boots and start reaping what I've been sowing.
Its also "Media Depravation Week" as part of my artist rehabilitation program. It's a twelve step program designed to rekindle the creative universe around me, a fitness plan for egomaniacs. This is week four, which is sort of like detox for distractaholics, which means for the next seven days I get to read nothing but street signs, urgent emails, and restaurant menus. No books, magazines, crossword puzzles, or fantasy football articles. No television, internet or video games. I can listen to music, but I have to actually listen to it. No background noise.
We'll see how long it lasts.
I can take a lot of naps.
A lot of naps.
But today is all about playing out doors.
I took the monkey to the archery range, I went out and harvested arm load of vegetables and fruits, and I may go for a nice relaxing bike ride depending upon how long my nap lasts. Later, we'll head to the mom's for swimming and food and relaxing in the spa.
The fruits and vegetables are looking (and tasting) good. I'm actually here at the table munching on cherry tomatoes.
I may or may not be making salsa later this afternoon. Depending if I can find time between naps and bike rides.
The album is officially out at the printers.
150 copies should land on my door by August 1st.
It'll hit Amazon, and iTunes, and CD Baby, and a plethora of other stuff later in the month.
I'll keep you posted.
Har, dee, har, har.
The website will launch, the YouTube videos will launch, and a collection of these essay's will launch as well.
I'm putting together a band.
We will be an "Indie Pop Power Trio" if anybody asks.
Cause they'll always ask.
And we will be pretty awesome, if anybody asks.
I'll keep you posted.
So its harvest time. Where Farmer Wait . . . Dad?, who has watched the garden of his soul grow and grow and grow, and wither and die and grow some more. He has planted in the wrong spots, watered at the wrong time and has been baffled by his own decisions (who eats figs?). But setting all that aside, lets just hope that this other garden is as tasty and bountiful as these cherry tomatoes.
Or as hot as the jalepenos.
Or as zesty as this italian arugula.
Or as dirty as a bag of zucchini.
Aww yeah, penis joke.
Couch bound five
Screw this Friday in particular.
But let's play Opposite Day!
Five reasons why it's awesome to be couch bound on the Friday before my three day birthday weekend.
Number One: I have Netflix. And Netflix has entire seasons of TV I can catch up on, or start all together.
Quick Reader Poll: The Wire, or Breaking Bad?
Number Too: I have books. Books I've never read and books I've read a thousand times. Page turners, mind benders, and thought provokers. What ever I need to engage the real organ.
Number 3: I have kids. Not only can they fetch things, like TV remotes and Magazines, but they have no choice but to let me use their bendy straws when I'm trying to sip a tasty zin and don't want to over extend my core by sitting up.
Number Fore: I have wife. And she can cook, clean, mow the lawn, and is willing to not only touch my feet, but to rub them for several minutes.
Number Five: I have wife and she rates two. Actually she rates all five, but I really wanted to use that bendy straw in wine glass joke.
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