claustrophobia strikes again

Most of you know that I am claustrophobic. It really sucks, but it provides laughs for all when I tell the stories of my attacks.

You need to know that I am currently going to physical therapy twice a week. My left shoulder froze up a while back, causing me to walk around looking like this

--but not as old
--and not as manly

Here we go…

Time: last week, after work

Setting: Physical Therapy- my therapist had escorted me to a room in the back of the facility. There was a table there with this odd looking machine. It looked a bit like this, but it was much larger and more mid-evil…


Me: “What is that?”

Physical Therapist (PT): “Oh, that is a traction device. I thought we would try it today.”

Me: (a worried look crosses my brow) “Hmm…I gotta tell ya, that thing kinda freaks me out”.

PT: “Really? Are you claustrophobic?”

Me: “yes.”

PT: “well, do you think you can try it out?”

Me: “Sure, why not…”

The PT straps my head down and locks my neck into this vice….at least it was padded. Then, she turns it on and it slowly pulls my head up towards an incline. It holds it there for 40seconds (I counted) and then it slowly goes back down.

PT: “Are you ok?”

ME: “I think so….yeah!”

I was quite proud of myself. The PT went into the other room to deal with the other patients, leaving me alone with the device and my thoughts.

Slowly, the fear started creeping in like thick syrup oozing over your short stack. I tried to reason with myself, telling myself that I could do this.

Then, I swallowed and I could feel the muscles in my neck being held tightly by the vice. I cleared my throat and the vice felt tighter.

In a very illogical move, I attempted to try and get out of the device only to discover that there was no escape. My heart began pounding. I could feel the sweat building on my brow. My chest tightened and I decided to take action.

Me: “Somebody?” (pause) “Can anybody hear me?” (Pause) “Hello?” (Pause) “I NEED SOME HELP!” (pause) “LET ME OUTTA THIS THING!!!”

The PT Runs into the room to find me flailing my legs about like a dog having a dream and my fist clenched tighter that an inmates ass on shower day….

PT: “Oh my gosh! I AM SO SORRY!”

ME: “It’s ok, JUST GET ME OUT NOW!”

The PT frees me from the torture

PT: “Well, I guess we won’t be trying that again.”

ME: “I think I need a different type of therapy all together.”

End Scene

Mr. Brownstone

The opening guitar riff and drum combo on the Guns N’ Roses song Mr. Brownstone is just about one of the meanest intro’s to a song….ever.

And then, it get’s a little lame.

But that opening… man! I sometimes just play that part of the song and then play it again, skipping the melodic popish rockishness that follows.

Yes, I make words up. It’s my right as an American.

Appetite for destruction was the first album I bought. Actually, I requested it for my 12th b-day. There I was, singing lyrics like:
I used ta do a little but a little wouldn't do
So the little got more and more
I just keep tryin' ta get a little better
Said the little better than before

And I had no Idea the song was about Heroin.

One day, my mom found my GNR cassette and decided to look at the lyrics. What she found, was the inside cover art:


Mom was pissed.

I tried to tell her that the picture depicted a robot rapist about to be punished by a metal avenger, and that it was not just a rape scene. IT WAS ABOUT REVENGE FOR THE RAPING!

She made me tear it up.

I got to keep the music, though.
ROCK!

Now I get up around whenever
I used ta get up on time
But that old man he's a real muthafucker
Gonna kick him on down the line

Little Halloween, little b-day

Seriously, only a few more. I am lazy.

The unfortunate UT fan.


I don’t know if you heard about this one, but you can read the story here
http://www.nbc5i.com/sports/13968715/detail.html?better_headline

The Wendy’s commercial guy, a.k.a- our host for the evening.


I love those commercials.

Did I show you the burglar and the Spartan?

Tonight, we rob in hell!
Get it?
Oh well.

A very happy b-day wish goes out to my buddy Larry.




Larry, if you don’t already know, is the KING of back yard parties. He is also the “Magical White Guy”. Home-slice can do whatever he wants out in public and get away with it. Well, except for sneaking his dog into a hotel. Other than that, it’s like he has some kind of invisibility cloak or something.

We love our Larry, almost as much as we love his BBQ ribs.

-ok, we love him more.