This week my wife has seen a doctor no less than 4 times.  Six times if you count phone calls.  Recently she saw a surgeon and found out that she likely will need to have her gallbladder taken out.  That is simultaneously good, since maybe that will finally  get rid of her pain and suffering and turmoil that she’s been going through for the last month; however, it is also scary since she’s 15 weeks pregnant and is going under the knife.

Thus, in order to compensate for all that scary stuff, I’m going to bitch about how sore I am since I’ve started swimming again.

Let me start over.

My brother is evil. 

Not Chris, either.

No.  My wonderful idiot brother Joel decided that starting swimming again would be a great idea for us both to get back into shape.  Sounds reasonable.  Unfortunately for yours truly, I found out that after 15 years of not swimming, my muscles have lost a little bit of their stamina.  By a little bit, I mean all.  For example, my forearms… right now, are actually in pain from typing. TYPING!  Get out the cheese, here comes the whine.

I normally don’t rank typing as a full cardiovascular workout, however, in my current condition, it is easier to name the body parts that don’t hurt, than the ones that do.  Here’s the list of non-hurting body parts:

-Spleen
-Pancreas
-Lower esophageal Sphincter
-Right nipple.

That’s it.  Everything else hurts.

I’m sure you idiots at home are wondering to yourselves, since my life is so much more vastly interesting that your own so that you live vicariously through me and if I didn’t go on you might think of ending it all slowly with a weed whacker and a bag of discount turpentine, certainly EVERYTHING can’t hurt.  In this questioning you would be wrong.  Yes.  They do.

Aaaah, I feel much better after venting.  Don’t you hate listening to other people bitch?  Me too, that’s why I force you to do it and when it’s your turn I just walk away from the computer.  Ooh look, a bumblebee!

I’m worried about my unborn child’s education regarding cartoons.

I received an awesome card from Lisa Haley, since it has Ren and Stimpy on it, and she knows that I’m an absolute idiot for anything cartoon.  If you don’t know Ren & Stimpy, go to Youtube and start watching, since I’m done talking to you now.

Seriously, go.  Go watch them now.

Go here:  BEST SCENES FROM REN & STIMPY (~10 minutes)

I was alone in my computer room laughing like an idiot (eeediot).  Ah, that was great.  Ok.  Wow.  That is just simply high quality entertainment.  If you have even the slightest inkling of disagreement with me, please go wizz on the electric fence.

This show used to be on Nickelodeon.  I know, hard to believe, right?  It was raw, disturbed, demented, and fricking hilarious.

Now I go to Cartoon Network and I just sigh.  Don’t get me wrong, if it is animated, I can watch it.  I realize that almost all the shows that I thought were awesome when I was a kid are really pretty bad.  You should go re-watch an episode of He-Man, it might make you cry.  GI-JOE, yeah, also amazingly bad.  But, at that time (and now), pretty much anything that drawn on a piece of paper and strung together to move I considered brilliant. However, cartoon network has failed me.  I have seen NON-animated movies on Cartoon network.  How distressing.  Maybe it’s me growing up… but I doubt it.  I’ll watch Adult Swim on Cartoon Network every night, and I realize that there are still SOME pretty funny things out there (Venture Brothers, Family Guy, Futurama, Boondocks, etc). 

Did you know that Seseme Street is changing?  I just found this out (though I guess it’s been happening for a while now).  Cookie Monster only eats healthy food?  What the crap is that?  Bert and Ernie might not live together anymore?  How else will our kids get an early education about it being ok for two adult males to get along together.  Oscar the Grouch is now Oscar the Slightly Miffed.  <sniff> 

Thank goodness for the internet.  The never ending source of awesomeness.  Gwen would like me to add her favorite internet cartoon.  So here you go.  Currently at the #1 spot for internet cartoons for Gwen.

There she is!

Of more concern is that cartoons don’t have the little endings where they teach kids lessons.
Remember this?
GI JOE LESSON

Now it has turned into this, which really doesn’t make much sense at all!
GI JOE UN-LESSON

You may have been waiting all week to find out what the Sexual harassment lecture was really like.  If you were, you are a sad individual and I pity the wretched waste of existence you call your pathetic life.

That’s my way of saying that I didn’t really learn much at my sensitivity training.  I learned that I’m never supposed to say anything that any person who has ever been born with functioning ears could possibly take offense to.  Thus, personally, I’m no longer allowed to talk.

Thank goodness for print.

My fantastically awesome super-wife unfortunately got super-sick.  She’s been sick a lot this pregnancy.  This baby better be friggin’ sweet.  Seriously.  That darn parasite has been sucking away at her resources since week one.  I mean, this baby better come out of the womb with X-ray vision and the ability to turn Pepsi into Coke or something like that. 

On the bright side, since we went into the hospital again, we did get some more ultrasounds of the baby, which is now larger that it was before, so I can play the second round of Ultrasound editing Adventures!  So here’s my negative 27-week old child:

Aaaaaawww.  Isn’t he cute?  With his/her little face, and little hands, and little nose, and little giant pocket of fluid in the back of the neck.  Um, wait?  Not sure what that is.  I’ll assume for now that that is where the superpowers come from (as labeled by the Obstetrician):

Ok, soon to be child of mine, stop kicking mom’s butt, or you’re in for an intra-uterine grounding!  No more Music for the unborn child held up to the uterus.

Oh, and I think I have to award Jon with the best idea for the ISJH 20-foot pole, but it’s gonna take some editing to do it justice, thus that will have to wait.  It’ll come back in time for Christmas.

It’s Monday again, 2:45 am, and time for me to update my blog.

What could be the most exciting thing that is going to happen this week.  Well, I don’t want to assume, but I will guess it will be at noon today.

You see, I am one of the lucky doctors who gets to go to a very special conference.  Well, I suppose our entire ER group is lucky since we all get to go to this conference.  We get to learn about penis and vagina the male Kaboomers and the female “Middle pockets.”  We also get to learn not to talk about them to other co-workers ever.  Oh yeah baby, that’s right, we all get to go to Sexual Harassment training. 

The fact that I have a 2 hour meeting on this disturbs me.  I understand that it can be an actual problem.  Got it.  But 2 hours?  I’d rather have a 2 hour meeting on being Politically Correct.  Well, they are pretty darn similar, actually.  Thus, I think I’ll go rantin about “being politically correct.”

I know, I can feel the vibes of jealousy zapping through the computer and burning my loins.  Oh wait, not burning my loins, I’m not going to be allowed to say that any more.  Must…be…politically…correct…

Alright, let me resuscitate the horse that I have already beaten into a battered bloody mess so that I can beat this dead horse some more. 

Yes we should try to be politically correct and not brazenly offend people and be ridiculously inappropriate.

That being said…

Holy sweet merciful CRAP I HATE POLITICAL CORRECTNESS!

What makes this even more hilarious is that we are going to attempt this in an Emergency Room.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the staff will try to keep it somewhat PC.  However, if you have been to any ER on a Friday or Saturday night, you must have some thick skin, cause insults are coming in high quantities.  Drunk people are not clever.  They pretty much will curse angrily and loudly, and when that does not get them what they want, the only defense mechanism they have is to increase the volume and try again. 

The general community as a whole has had the pendulum swing way too far in the direction of political correctness.  We have gone from a population of strong willed independent hard-workers to that of a whiny, complaining, easily offended crybabies that will run sniveling to their lawyer before they confront another person (my apologies to Mr. Miller).

This is coming from a guy who goes about as far out of his way from offending people as humanly possible.
Ok, end rant.

However, I believe there is still hope for the world.          This is why…

I went to Yahoo, to search “sexual harassment,” and when I clicked it, it said:

Also try:  hot sexual harassment,

I find that absolutely friggin’ hilarious.  I think I always will.  It’s politically incorrect, but pretty dang funny.
I’m going to try to slip the word “hot” before everytime I say sexual harassment from now on.  Ok, back to my P.C. reading.

I bought a ISJH* 20-foot long fishing pole on my friend Bryan’s
bachelor party.  I have no use for it.  We were all getting fishing
licenses, and we all saw this ridiculously long pole hanging on the
wall.  It was on super sale; so, I decided that I have to have it.

Throughout the rest of the trip we came up with a large variety of uses
for the super-pole.  Now, I have the ISJH* 20-foot pole, I have to
figure out what I’m really going to do with it.  It is expandable, it
comes apart, it is pretty flexible. The options are limitless.  I
actually have a pretty good idea with what I want to do with it, but I
thought I would take suggestions before I went through with my plan. 

Here’s a very short video of my ISJH* 20-foot pole

So, if YOU have a clever idea, please let me know it in the comments, thanks!

*ISJH = Insert Sexual Joke Here

Ever noticed when you are at work that you are completely surrounded by the same thing over and over again?

Me too.

Sometimes it’s kinda weird like that in the ER.

My patients kept having similar problems.  I had two nice ladies both with knee problems on the same shift.

I had two drunk people that were both (shockingly) complete jerks and idiots.  Not only that but BOTH of them had soiled themselves.  Not only that but both had done so repeatedly.  One guy had crapped his pants MULTIPLE times.  I know we’ve all been there.  You get so drunk that you feel like nothing else matters… but come on!  I mean, even if you DID go once, would you want to kinda get yourself cleaned up before the next go around?  My urine soaked friend was somewhat similar.  However, all of the coverings in excrement led me to an interesting discovery.  Peppermint oil.

We have this oil in the ED that can be used under masks to help with the occasionally overwhelming and nauseating odors we encounter. 

I personally don’t really use the stuff, since not puking is one of my super-powers (the kryptonite to this is of course is my sea-sickness, but I’ll get to that another post).  However, many of the techs and nurses were getting kinda ill with the wet-dog/urine smell coming from our drunk friend.  So, as I walked by, I noticed a few peppermint soaked gauzes around the guy.  Then I noticed a few more.  Then I noticed many many more.  Eventually he had what appeared to be a Buddist Monk style surrounding of little soaked gauzes, shrouding the edges of his gurney while he slept off his booze.  Every time I walked by this guy with his multiple peppermint talismans surrounding him, I felt like bowing. 

Finally, he sobered up enough to leave.  I bowed respectfully to my drunken master and bid the great holy dragon fair weather and strength, as he lumbered away to what I would guess would be the closest liquor store. 

I still love my job.

So I was rockin’ out in my car on the way home from work at about 2am this morning.  I was singing loudly and poorly to one of my many CD’s that I have created over time, and I came across the Hoosh song.  Hoosh was one of my fellow residents when I was a first year resident, and he ruled.

I also made the senior video for them and one of the videos, of course, was for Hoosh.  I also made a small animation about Hoosh, who for the purpose of the video was “The Helpful Rastifarian.”  I dunno, it just seemed like a funny title, so I went with it. 

However, I realized that I had never added the Hoosh song to my set of
songs.  Thus, I now give for your listening pleasure… the Hoosh
song.  Just click in audio up there and click on the Hoosh song for 26
seconds of delight. 

For extra fun, I noticed that Daane’s icon dances in beat with the Eradicator song… is this coincidence… I think not (click on audio up there, then click on Eradicator, pretty funny)

As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, I’m incredibly tough.  I don’t mean to brag, but I have been in a number of fights in my time.  That number is 1.  I would not really call it a fight as much as me getting punched in the face. by some guy when I was looking at some other guy.  They all of the guys ran away while I was on the ground.  Thus, since they ran away, I’m assuming I won the fight.  Thus, like I said, I’m really tough.

This drawn out introduction has brought me to this point.  What do you know about Capoeira Fighting?  My guess is very little, since, as we all know, you are an idiot.  Don’t wet yourself trying to deny it, you crybaby, everyone knows you’re no good in a fight, so quit whining and listen up. 

Capoeira fighting, according to the statistics I learned through years of training (or via Wikipedia), is essentially a mixture of dance and martial arts.  It was never really intended for combat, more of a means of expression.  However, people have seen these acrobatics and thought to themselves:

“Man, that looks awesome!  Those guys are probably sweet in a fight, just look at them flip and jump!”

Those people, of course, are wonderfully naive. 

However, what happens when someone who actually practices this Capeoira fighting style thinks he can fight?  Ah, that my friends is where my buddy Jeff Millimon comes in.  Periodically he sends me horrible videos that I always love but rarely share.  This one, however, is just too good.  Thus, I give you:

MY SHOWY STYLE VS YOUR ACTUAL PUNCH STYLE!!!! 
(Warning: It is a bit violent, but for some reason… I dunno, showing off Apollo Creed Style right before a fight always struck me as a bad idea, a really bad idea)

ROUND 1:   FIGHT!

Well, my wife got sick.  I think it is her Gallbag. 

Gallbladder’s are funny.  They are not funny like Seinfeld funny.  They are more funny like Galager is funny.  At first you are mildly amused, then you want to smash faces with that stupid giant sledgehammer he totes around.  Yes, I get it, you smash up fruit with the hammer, you’ve been doing it for like 40 years now, let that dog die already!

Where was I?

Oh yes, gallbags.  Anywho, she might need to have the ticking timebomb taken out, but for now she is doing much better after a visit to the ER.  The good news is that I was able to sneak over and steal the ultrasound machine to get a look at my little bundle of love and keep-me-up-all-nightness. 

Here’s what he/she/it looks like:

Isn’t he/she/it beautiful?  for those of you not fluent in ultrasonography, I have edited the photo so that you can clearly see what part is the baby.  Here’s the remade version:

Yeah, that little blob of goo is going to be our baby.  Isn’t he/she precious?

This is what he she looks like when a poorly draw avocado is overlapped.

And finally, this is what he/she looks like when replicated and attacked by Pac-Man:

Run Baby Run!  Don’t let intra-uterine PacMan get you! 

Intra-Uterine Pac Man would be a great name for a band.

Ok, that’s all the time we have for tonights show, come back next week when our guests are famous swimmer Michael Phelps and funny-man Pauly Shore.

Well, I guess I might as well get it out there.

I have officially fulfilled duty number four on the list of duties I had to finish this year.  You remember all ten of the things that I wanted to complete right?  If not, here’s the link

Yeah. 

That’s right.

I’m fertile.  I’m officially scheduled to become a father.  I think this means that I officially have to grow up.  No more all nighters playing video games.  No more peeing on the toilet seat.  No more pooping, um, on the toilet seat.  You know, grown up and responsible.  Sigh.  I suppose it has to happen to everyone sometime.

Fortunately I can still be a kid at heart online I suppose, since my unborn child will likely not be reading these words for at least another 7 years, right?  And by that time, I figure the machines will have taken over and I’ll the only time I’m allowed online is when I request to the Supreme Overlord another helping of gruel for my wastrel children to eat in order to live, so I should be fine as far as I figure.

I also have to come up with a name, though I think Inguinito chung Brandt might be a nice name.  Hey, it’s my kid, I can name it whatever I want.  Don’t judge me.  I bet in China if your name is Mike they all point and laugh. 

I guess the depressing thing about this is that since I have completed goal 4 so early in the year, I think goal #3 will be unobtainable.  How sad.  Oh well, I must have really good swimmers.  That’s right, when your like me, with sperm that could swim through solid steel if they have to, I guess you should just be happy with the results.

On a side note, I learned that my old pastor (the beloved P.R.E.) intermittently reads my blog, if so, he should send me an email since his children want to link up their Wii with our Wii and our Wiis (or Wii Wii’s) can communicate with each other.  Thus, senda mea email-a