Tag Archives: Whine

I’m Melting

by Richard

No, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the whatever direction it is that doesn’t like water and reacts badly to a little improvisational comedy in the vein of the Three Stooges. That is, the one that melts when water gets thrown on her.

I’m just talking about the heat.

That terrible, horrible heat.

Most of the country has been under a heat warning the last couple of days. I came back from Florida, where the temperature was 93 degrees, and home to North Carolina, where a temperature of 104 degrees greeted me.

That’s hot.

To make matters worse, this was the day Casa De Dude hosted a family reunion of the wonderful folks on the side of the family belonging to my wife, known to me and braggingly known now to her family as She Who Must Be Obeyed. And it was hosted outdoors.

Yeah, we set up the party in the heat. Got out the plates and tables and drinks and party games and suchlike in the heat. We cooked in the heat. And then, when everybody else arrived, we had the party outdoors in the heat. If our backyard wasn’t a miniature forest for all the trees, I’m sure somebody would have melted.

My favorite ice cream dessert I make, Heavenly Layers, basically melted just moments after I cut the pieces and put them on the plate. And that was indoors.

Dude, I have no idea how people managed to survive life before air conditioning, much less wearing all the thick clothing for which those years were known.

Not me, dude. Not me.

And with that whine, I’m headed indoors to stay. Somebody can crack me out of the house once the temperatures go back down to tolerable, somewhere around 95 degrees. I won’t like it, but I can live with it.

What more could I ask?

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Shoulder To Shoulder

by Richard

I don’t know the name of the movie, but that doesn’t really matter, because this thing is everywhere. I was watching some sort of generic action thriller movie and there was a gunfight. To show just how tough our hero was, he got shot and then kept fighting and won the fight. So where do you think our hero was shot? (No fair peeking at the title of this post.)

Yep. You guessed it. He was shot in the shoulder.

A little blood. A tight close-up on his face as he grimaced in pain, moving out a little to let us see our hero clutching his shoulder with his good hand. And then a snarl as he launched himself immediately back into the fray.

At which point I just turned the television off. Because, really? Enough is enough.

If our hero was really shot in the shoulder? Have an idea what he would really do? Scream, cry, whine, bleed a whole heck of a lot, scream some more, writhe around on the floor weeping in agony, call for a time out, beg for a doctor. Just about anything except clutch at his shoulder for a second, smile mirthlessly at the bad guy and then start beating people up, usually using both arms.

Nuh uh. Not gonna happen.

I know this for a fact. See, I went in for shoulder surgery. I was under general anesthesia. I had a catheter dripping a local anesthetic into my shoulder for two days after the operation. I had pain pills. I had a highly skilled (and I do mean highly skilled {Howdy, Dr. S. and thanks!]) doctor performing a minimally invasive surgical procedure. I had everything in my favor to make my shoulder surgery as low-pain as possible.

And here I am today, having just bumped that shoulder pretty hard into a wall (Buzz, the garbage disposal that walks like a dog, decided it would be a lot of fun to try and practice his ski slalom skills using my moving legs as flags), and I’m in agony. Five weeks after my surgery.

When a bullet enters your body, it’s traveling at a pretty fast clip. All that kinetic energy gets quickly transferred to your flesh, the hydrostatic shock (the power of speed converting to movement, thus causing hugely explosive ripples to expand outward from the bullet’s path) is what does most of the damage. It is rough. It is not something you just (you should pardon the expression, especially since I just got back my ability to do it) shrug off.

I know getting shot in the shoulder is action-movie shorthand for “our hero is in danger, he’s been hurt, but he’s strong enough to overcome any obstacle to continue fighting for (insert movie’s objective here). he’s tough and you should like him and want to be him.” I get that.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

Maybe we could pick another designated tough-guy-gets-shot-but-overcomes-pain-and-keeps-fighting spot? The ear? Or maybe a foot. Yeah, that would be good. We could see tough-guy action dude hopping and skipping around while they fight. That should be good for a laugh or two.

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Coming of Age

by Richard

Today, I am a man.

After taking a severe shellacking at the Caesar’s Casino Sports Book (I still can’t believe both the New Orleans Saints and Indianapolis Colts lost), my friends and I were in a bit of a funk. Still, we took it like dudes do. We cried and whined and moaned and complained and all that, but we did recover.

We schlepped back to our hotel (Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall & Saloon) and were getting ready to slouch back up to the room and do some more dude-ly brooding when I decided to do something to change my luck. I sat down at a blackjack table and tossed out some money. Actually, I didn’t figure to change my luck so much as burn out all the bad luck that must have been hanging around my head like a black cloud.

But that didn’t happen. It turns out I was able to actually win. I doubled my money, but that’s not what en-manned me. Nope. What did it was when I decided to cash out rather than keep pushing my luck. That’s right, I actually left a casino holding more money than when I walked in. Not that I’ve been in many casinos, but that has never happened before.

I actually seemed to have thought my way out of a wet paper bag with this one. Of course, all that self-congratulatory praise I’m busy heaping on myself is just so much air considering I’d already lost earlier in the day.

Oh well. Baby steps. Baby steps.

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