There are some rules, that you need to be made aware of, if you are going to care for a woman who broke her ankle, hand surgery on it, THEN had to have an emergency c-section......
Now, even though my own wife just broke her ankle, and had the c-section, I AM NOT addressing any specific person, or circumstance, when I offer these rules. Were I to do that, I would be leaving myself open to being murdered in my sleep.......No, I'm talking about OTHER people.....People I've NEVER met....People who DON'T live in my house..............Are we clear? Good.
RULE #1:
DON'T ask your wife how she is doing (dummy.) She fell down and broke her ankle (you idiot.) Then, she got to have an emergency c-section (bonehead.) How do you think she's doing (doofus?)
She's laying in a bed, with a cast on, unable to move, in pain, cranky, and she can't even get up to pick up her own son. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that SHE'S PROBABLY NOT DOING TO GREAT, ACE!!!!! (Not that I would know. I would NEVER ask such a stupid question......I certainly wouldn't do it twice.....on the same day........that would be dumb......Yep.)
RULE #2:
DON'T ask your wife is there's anything YOU can do.
Can YOU fix her ankle? No? Didn't think so.
Can YOU make her c-section scar stop hurting? No? Really? All that "radio training (not me)" didn't prepare you for that, huh? Shocking.
Can YOU make so that she doesn't have to depend on EVERYONE else, for EVERYTHING? No? Well, you were quite a catch, weren't you. She is so glad she married you. I mean, just look at how helpful you are.
RULE #3:
DON'T feel sorry for her.
Do you think she wants your pity? Do you think she doesn't KNOW that this is a bad situation? Do you think she wants some overgrown kid, in a Kermit the Frog hat staring at her, sadly? (Again, not me. Some other, random, overgrown kid in a Kermit the Frog hat.)
Yeah, that's perfect. Depress her. Pity her. Make her feel worse. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you were up for the Husband Of The Year Award.
You're doing a great job of cheering her up, Sparky!!! What else can you do to lighten the mood, a little, Genius? I know, why don't you drown a bag full of kittens while she watches. That'll perk her right up.
You're not very bright, are you? (By "you" I mean YOU....Not ME.....I'M doing everything right......I heard that.)
RULE #4:
STOP trying to cheer her up.
Do you REALLY think YOU can cheer her up? Do you?
Well, I've got an idea. Why don't you turn the oven on, place your head inside, and breathe deeply? At this point in time, I think that would go A LONG way toward cheering her up.
RULE #5:
DON'T ask her if there's anything she needs.
Are you stupid AND blind?
SHE CAN'T WALK, EINSTEIN!!!!!!
You know what she needs?
Hmmmm.......
Let me think......
Wait, I've got it......
She needs......EVERYTHING!!!!!
Most importantly, she NEEDS for you to stop being an idiot, and asking stupid questions. YOU'RE just a radio talk show host....If she NEEDED anything from you, she would call your little show, "radio-boy."
RULE #6:
Shut-up
Just.....shut.....up.
You can't say ANYTHING right....
You can't DO anything right.....
EVERY TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH SOMETHING STUPID COMES OUT.
Got it?
Good.
So, let's review.
Your wife is in pain.
She just had a baby.
She can't walk.
AND....Her boneheaded husband keeps nagging her, about stupid things that he can't do anything about, anyway.
Hmmmm.....
I would go with RULE #6, and then pray that she doesn't walk anytime soon, and kill you.
I won't have to worry about this, though. MY wife is a wonderful woman, who is also VERY patient and understanding.
I would just like to say, though, that at this point in time I am very healthy. Should I happen to die in my sleep, for unknown reasons, please take the appropriate actions.
Thank you.
Casey
Casey
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
The World Keeps Turning
This will be short.....
Things are good. We just had Max's first doctor visit. All is well. He continues to amaze us, and the people around us. The kid can hold his head up, and look around. Most newborns can't do that, let alone one that is more than a month early. He's doing terrific. He's my little hero. You would never know that he was almost dead a week ago.....God, I don't even like saying that.
Brooke is a work in progress. She is in a lot of pain, but isn't letting it keep her down. It's hard, but she gets up and moves around as much as she can. We've even gone out. We had to rent a bed, and a wheelchair. Insurance wouldn't pay for them. They wouldn't pay for the bed, because they said she WASN'T bed bound. They wouldn't pay for the chair, because they said she WAS house bound.
So, she CAN'T leave the house, but she CAN'T stay in bed while she's there. Nice. How much am I paying for insurance? I've paid thousands of dollars to THIS SAME COMPANY over the years, and have almost NEVER used it. Then, the first time I need them they get all nit picky on me. Apparently they were shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, that bones could break. Who knew?
Spenser is doing terrific. She has been great. Doing her best to take care of mommy, and messing with her little brother as much as she can. Her and I have to stick together. We're the only ones who HAVEN'T been involved in a major surgery in the past week!!!
As for me, I'll be back on the air, Monday . The wheels keep turning, and I have to make a living, and get my family moved to Jersey. I'm pretty sure that I'm facing some level of financial ruin, too. ($12 for asprin?) Strangely, I don't really care about that. I'll deal with it when it comes, and do what I can. After what we've been through they can't touch us. I mean, they CAN'T take my son back, can they?
Hmmmm.......
Maybe I better check my benefits paperwork on that.
As always, thank you for all your support....I needed it.
Casey
Things are good. We just had Max's first doctor visit. All is well. He continues to amaze us, and the people around us. The kid can hold his head up, and look around. Most newborns can't do that, let alone one that is more than a month early. He's doing terrific. He's my little hero. You would never know that he was almost dead a week ago.....God, I don't even like saying that.
Brooke is a work in progress. She is in a lot of pain, but isn't letting it keep her down. It's hard, but she gets up and moves around as much as she can. We've even gone out. We had to rent a bed, and a wheelchair. Insurance wouldn't pay for them. They wouldn't pay for the bed, because they said she WASN'T bed bound. They wouldn't pay for the chair, because they said she WAS house bound.
So, she CAN'T leave the house, but she CAN'T stay in bed while she's there. Nice. How much am I paying for insurance? I've paid thousands of dollars to THIS SAME COMPANY over the years, and have almost NEVER used it. Then, the first time I need them they get all nit picky on me. Apparently they were shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, that bones could break. Who knew?
Spenser is doing terrific. She has been great. Doing her best to take care of mommy, and messing with her little brother as much as she can. Her and I have to stick together. We're the only ones who HAVEN'T been involved in a major surgery in the past week!!!
As for me, I'll be back on the air, Monday . The wheels keep turning, and I have to make a living, and get my family moved to Jersey. I'm pretty sure that I'm facing some level of financial ruin, too. ($12 for asprin?) Strangely, I don't really care about that. I'll deal with it when it comes, and do what I can. After what we've been through they can't touch us. I mean, they CAN'T take my son back, can they?
Hmmmm.......
Maybe I better check my benefits paperwork on that.
As always, thank you for all your support....I needed it.
Casey
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Geez....Where to start.....
I have been floored by all the kind words, and emails I have received. Every time I felt I was at my lowest point I would get an email, or see a comment that was posted, or someone would call. It helped to pick me back up. There are too many people to thank. But, I want you all to know that EVERYONE had an impact. It meant the world to me. So, thank you all for keeping my family in your thoughts. I'm sure that it helped.
It has been a rough couple of days. I'm going on a total of 17 hours of sleep in the last 5 days. No one's fault but my own. I'm afraid to go to sleep, because I'm such a hard sleeper, and I have convinced myself that I will miss a call from the hospital, or I won't hear my daughter during the night, if she needs me. I know that won't happen. But, that's where my mind is right now. Considering everything that everyone else has gone through, I think I'm getting off easy. I'm not complaining. I just won't be settled until everyone is in the house, where I can keep an eye on them.
On that note.....
Brooke and Max are coming home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday!!!!!!
Brooke is getting better every day. They use a pain scale of 1-10. On the first day she had her pain at a 9. It has gotten progressively lower since then. Today, at one point, she put it at a 1. It's going to go back up. But, I'd be willing to be that she never thought it would get down to a 1, at any point. Overall, she's probably at a 4, now. Pretty good for someone whose foot was facing the wrong direction just a few days ago. We have a hospital bed, and a few other things, coming to the house tomorrow. She won't be able to walk for 6 weeks. No weight on the foot. Period. But, my wife is tough. She is up sometimes, and down others. Brooke has always done what she needed to do, even if she didn't like it. She's always been the steady one, and she takes care of business. She's my rock. To see her in a bed, with a cast on her leg, is tough. But, we both know that she'll be fine. Time is all she needs, and she's got it. She's always taken care of me, and now it's my turn. Of course, if she has to eat my cooking she might break the other leg just to get back into the hospital. Either that, or starve. Both are far more appealing than eating anything that I might make in a kitchen.
How about the boy?
Let me tell you something, pal. You better NOT mess with Maxwell Steven Bartholomew. Did you have a bad day? Did your boss, or someone, yell at you? Did you fold like a cheap suit? Well, Max isn't even supposed to be BORN, yet. He's already beaten DEATH. Top THAT!!!! This kid has beaten EVERYTHING they have thrown at him........
They said that he didn't have a heartbeat.............He got one.
They said he was too little..........He was almost 7 pounds, birth. (initial reports of 6 lbs. were amended.)
They said that they were concerned about his breathing.......He started breathing better.
They said that if he didn't start eating they were going to stick a tube down his nose.....He started eating.
They were concerned that he was having trouble breastfeeding......He started doing it.
They were concerned about his body temperature......He regulated it.
"Miracle Max" is pretty amazing. More than one of the nurses have told us that what this kid has come through is nothing short of incredible.
I'm thinking of telling him, tomorrow, "Max, you CAN'T win the lottery." Based on his history, I'm pretty sure he would come right out and do it. Just because he's Max, and that's what he does.
Let me tell you something else, though. Max was in what is basically baby ICU. He was far and away the healthiest baby there. When I went down to see him, which I did several times a day, I had to wash my hands with scalding hot water, for 5 minutes. After I did that, I would put my eyes down, and walk right to where he was. There was a reason for this. I felt guilty. Max was going to be okay. But, there are A LOT of babies there that may not be. There were other parents that were there, every day, too. You could see it in their eyes. They were beaten, but they were clinging to hope. I know what that feeling is like, now. I was there. But, in a very short period of time, I was able to walk away from it. These people can't. Not yet, and maybe never.
Their baby is in a plastic box, and they can't even touch it. Or, their baby has tubes coming out from all over its body. In some cases, all they can do is sit there. I could walk in, pick up my boy, and hold him in my arms for as long as I wanted. They couldn't. If there is a Hell on earth, it's in the baby ICU. Imagine the person you love the most, who is completely helpless, and you can't hold them in your arms and make the hurt go away..........Now, multiply that by 1,000,000...............You MIGHT be close to what it's like. Do you know how many of these parents would have gladly taken their baby's place? Every single one of them. I know that I would have done it for Max, when we were at the lowest moment.
That's why I started looking down. I didn't smile, and I didn't go bounding in, with a spring in my step. I washed my hands, went to my son, and talked to him in quite tones. I didn't want to rub it in. I didn't want to look like I was gloating. Every last one of them would have killed to pick up their baby, like I was mine. But, they couldn't. My heart is with these people, every time I hold my son.
Man, I didn't mean for this to be a downer. It's funny how you notice things when life hits you in the face.
Bottom line:
Brooke, in time, will be okay.
Max, in time, will be okay.
Spenser, my little girl, is ready to help mommy, and take care of her little brother.
Me? I'm thinking, a lot, now. Lots of different things. But, as soon as I can get everyone safe again, I promise to stop thinking, and get back on the air. My wife has always told me that, when I think too much, bad things happen. So I'll stop, soon.
In the meantime, thank you ALL for your kind thoughts, and words. I simply can't express how much it all meant to me.
Thank you.
Casey
I have been floored by all the kind words, and emails I have received. Every time I felt I was at my lowest point I would get an email, or see a comment that was posted, or someone would call. It helped to pick me back up. There are too many people to thank. But, I want you all to know that EVERYONE had an impact. It meant the world to me. So, thank you all for keeping my family in your thoughts. I'm sure that it helped.
It has been a rough couple of days. I'm going on a total of 17 hours of sleep in the last 5 days. No one's fault but my own. I'm afraid to go to sleep, because I'm such a hard sleeper, and I have convinced myself that I will miss a call from the hospital, or I won't hear my daughter during the night, if she needs me. I know that won't happen. But, that's where my mind is right now. Considering everything that everyone else has gone through, I think I'm getting off easy. I'm not complaining. I just won't be settled until everyone is in the house, where I can keep an eye on them.
On that note.....
Brooke and Max are coming home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday!!!!!!
Brooke is getting better every day. They use a pain scale of 1-10. On the first day she had her pain at a 9. It has gotten progressively lower since then. Today, at one point, she put it at a 1. It's going to go back up. But, I'd be willing to be that she never thought it would get down to a 1, at any point. Overall, she's probably at a 4, now. Pretty good for someone whose foot was facing the wrong direction just a few days ago. We have a hospital bed, and a few other things, coming to the house tomorrow. She won't be able to walk for 6 weeks. No weight on the foot. Period. But, my wife is tough. She is up sometimes, and down others. Brooke has always done what she needed to do, even if she didn't like it. She's always been the steady one, and she takes care of business. She's my rock. To see her in a bed, with a cast on her leg, is tough. But, we both know that she'll be fine. Time is all she needs, and she's got it. She's always taken care of me, and now it's my turn. Of course, if she has to eat my cooking she might break the other leg just to get back into the hospital. Either that, or starve. Both are far more appealing than eating anything that I might make in a kitchen.
How about the boy?
Let me tell you something, pal. You better NOT mess with Maxwell Steven Bartholomew. Did you have a bad day? Did your boss, or someone, yell at you? Did you fold like a cheap suit? Well, Max isn't even supposed to be BORN, yet. He's already beaten DEATH. Top THAT!!!! This kid has beaten EVERYTHING they have thrown at him........
They said that he didn't have a heartbeat.............He got one.
They said he was too little..........He was almost 7 pounds, birth. (initial reports of 6 lbs. were amended.)
They said that they were concerned about his breathing.......He started breathing better.
They said that if he didn't start eating they were going to stick a tube down his nose.....He started eating.
They were concerned that he was having trouble breastfeeding......He started doing it.
They were concerned about his body temperature......He regulated it.
"Miracle Max" is pretty amazing. More than one of the nurses have told us that what this kid has come through is nothing short of incredible.
I'm thinking of telling him, tomorrow, "Max, you CAN'T win the lottery." Based on his history, I'm pretty sure he would come right out and do it. Just because he's Max, and that's what he does.
Let me tell you something else, though. Max was in what is basically baby ICU. He was far and away the healthiest baby there. When I went down to see him, which I did several times a day, I had to wash my hands with scalding hot water, for 5 minutes. After I did that, I would put my eyes down, and walk right to where he was. There was a reason for this. I felt guilty. Max was going to be okay. But, there are A LOT of babies there that may not be. There were other parents that were there, every day, too. You could see it in their eyes. They were beaten, but they were clinging to hope. I know what that feeling is like, now. I was there. But, in a very short period of time, I was able to walk away from it. These people can't. Not yet, and maybe never.
Their baby is in a plastic box, and they can't even touch it. Or, their baby has tubes coming out from all over its body. In some cases, all they can do is sit there. I could walk in, pick up my boy, and hold him in my arms for as long as I wanted. They couldn't. If there is a Hell on earth, it's in the baby ICU. Imagine the person you love the most, who is completely helpless, and you can't hold them in your arms and make the hurt go away..........Now, multiply that by 1,000,000...............You MIGHT be close to what it's like. Do you know how many of these parents would have gladly taken their baby's place? Every single one of them. I know that I would have done it for Max, when we were at the lowest moment.
That's why I started looking down. I didn't smile, and I didn't go bounding in, with a spring in my step. I washed my hands, went to my son, and talked to him in quite tones. I didn't want to rub it in. I didn't want to look like I was gloating. Every last one of them would have killed to pick up their baby, like I was mine. But, they couldn't. My heart is with these people, every time I hold my son.
Man, I didn't mean for this to be a downer. It's funny how you notice things when life hits you in the face.
Bottom line:
Brooke, in time, will be okay.
Max, in time, will be okay.
Spenser, my little girl, is ready to help mommy, and take care of her little brother.
Me? I'm thinking, a lot, now. Lots of different things. But, as soon as I can get everyone safe again, I promise to stop thinking, and get back on the air. My wife has always told me that, when I think too much, bad things happen. So I'll stop, soon.
In the meantime, thank you ALL for your kind thoughts, and words. I simply can't express how much it all meant to me.
Thank you.
Casey
Monday, May 12, 2008
Have Some Reality, Funny Man
The yard sale went as expected.
Lots of people came to my house, offered me less money for things that were already grossly under priced, and got angry when I wouldn't take it. One guy even called me a name because I wouldn't take .10 for something that we were only selling for .25 cents.
WHAT!?!!
Let me tell you something, Jasper..........If you are only .15 cents away from financial ruin, it might be time to close up shop and move on. But, he spent a full 5 minutes arguing with me about .15 cents. Then, when I wouldn't budge, he told me that I was being a "tight ass."
HUH!?!!
ME!?!!
HE was the one who wouldn't drop an extra dime, and nickel, for an article of baby clothing that I probably paid $15 for, 7 years ago. Even if he pays the .25 cents, he STILL wins, BIG TIME. Truth be told, the guy didn't look like he had many "victories" in his life, and shouldn't be passing them up when they are put on a silver platter for him.
He didn't buy the shirt. Apparently, .15 cents was to great a price to pay for his pride.
Things went along, well. We made a few hundred bucks. We brought everything that was left over into the garage, so that no one could steal it before we threw it away. Once that was done, I hopped on my riding mower, and hit the backyard.
About 10 minutes into the mowing, my daughter screamed bloody murder. This is not out of the ordinary. That's what she does. Screams bloody murder. I'm not joking when I say that people have suggested we get her an agent so that she can scream bloody murder, for money. I guess there is a big market for this. But, we haven't investigated it. I'm sure I'll live to regret that decision, when the radio work dries up. But, anyway, I kept on about my business of mowing the lawn.
Then, my daughter ran out the back door, crying, and screaming "Mommy fell....Mommy fell!!!!"
I jumped off my mower, and ran inside.
My wife was laying on the ground, in the garage. She had fallen down the single step that leads into the garage. She was on her side.......She was crying........Her right foot was facing the WRONG DIRECTION.
Sometimes it takes the brain a moment to process things like that. So, I said that stupidest possible thing that I could have said, at that moment.
"BROOKE!!!!! ARE YOU OKAY!?!!!"
She screamed that her foot was broken.
Of course her foot was broken. What a freaking bonehead I am.
My daughter was screaming, and crying.
At that moment, I simply did not know what to do.
I ran for the phone, and called 911. They answered quick.
"My pregnant wife has fallen down a step, and her foot is broken. It's facing the wrong direction."
I told that to two separate operators. I don't know why I had to tell it to two of them. But, I did. In truth, I'm sure I sounded hysterical. I'm also sure that I yelled, rather than spoke, what I was telling them.
I was told NOT to move, OR touch her. The ambulance was on its way.
I stood there.
DON'T touch, OR move her.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?!!!!!!!!!!
Everyone was crying.
My neighbor came over, and saved my life. She took my daughter over to her house, and kept her there for the night. It's not as creepy as it sounds. My daughter plays with her kids, all the time.
My mother-in-law, who is a nurse and had been at the house the whole day, drove up. She had already left for home, but came back. She had, by some fluke, forgotten her cell phone and decided to come back and get it.
It probably took a total of 5 minutes for the ambulance to get there. It felt like 5 hours.
They got Brooke stabilized, and we headed to the hospital. It was not like on TV. I did not get to ride in the back with her, hold her hand, talk to her, and tell her things would be okay. I had to ride in the front. It felt like the longest drive of my life.
On a side note, while you are driving, GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY WHEN YOU HEAR A SIREN!!!!!
I can't tell you how many people view a siren as a chance to get further in traffic, rather than getting out of the way. People just sat there. My wife is going through hell, in the back, and these jerks would not get out of the way. If I'd had a gun, blood would have been spilled on that day. Just move over to the right. Nothing you have to do is as important as what the ambulance has to go do. I don't care who you are.
We got to the hospital, with Brooke's foot still facing the wrong direction, and were rushed into the emergency room. I'm speeding things along, here. But, after a while they knocked her out, put her foot the right way, and put a cast on her. It was not pretty.
We were told that she would have to have surgery, and that they would talk to everyone and make sure everything they used would be okay for the baby. We were satisfied. It had to be done, and they seemed to know what they were doing.
Roughly 3 hours later, Brooke was out of surgery, with several screws and plates in her ankle, and the baby was fine.
I was with her, in the recovery room, where she was coming out of everything, and they had a fetal monitor on her stomach to hear the baby's heartbeat. It was going okay.
Until they lost the baby's heartbeat.
The nurse kept moving the monitor around, trying to find it, and couldn't. She didn't seem concerned.
"Is this a problem?" I asked her.
"No," she said. "I'll call someone from upstairs to look. They are more familiar with doing this."
So, someone from the maternity area, I believe, came down to look.
We were okay. Brooke was still, mostly, out. I was curious, but no one else seemed concerned.
The nurse from maternity couldn't find the heartbeat either.
"Is this a problem?" I asked, again.
I was VERY concerned, now.
I was told that they were going to have a doctor come down, with an ultrasound machine, and look.
That didn't seem good.
Something wasn't right.
The doctor came, with the machine, and looked for the heartbeat. He seemed to find it, with the ultrasound machine. But, could not find it with the monitor. Either way, it wasn't right and I could tell. He kept looking, and kept finding the same result. So, he decided to do a pelvic exam.
He did.
Then, the most terrifying :30 minutes of my life began.
Everyone started running around. Orders were being barked. My wife was looking at me, and we locked eyes. She held up the sign for "I love you."
The doctor asked who my wife's doctor was. When he got the name he yelled "Call him, and tell him to get in here, NOW!!!"
You know how, in the movies, the run down the hallway, with the patient on a bed, and scream all sorts of orders out?
That was happening.
They got Brooke onto an elevator, and were taking up to do an emergency c-section. Someone yelled, "We have to get this baby, NOW!!!"
I had to take the next elevator, with my mother-in-law.
They put us in the waiting room, with a nurse.
I'm not a patient man. I don't do well with idle time, especially when things are happening to people I love.
I paced.
As far as I knew, my son, who had not been born, was dead. My wife was in serious trouble. There is nothing more frightening. I would not wish this on my worst enemy.
The nurse made calls. A variety of different people needed to be up here, and they needed to be up here NOW.
I hadn't been saying anything. There wasn't anything to say, and no one to say it to. My mother-in-law was trying to call her husband, who happens to be a doctor, just to see if he could tell her anything.
The nurse said, "Would you like me to call a preacher?"
I snapped.
"PREACHER!?!!! WHAT DO I NEED A PREACHER FOR!?!!!!!"
My brain, which was fried, was not seeing how anything good was going to come of this. My life was in another room and I couldn't get to it. I couldn't get the information I wanted. I couldn't fix this problem. All I could do was watch a door, and wait. I wanted to throw a chair through the window.
I paced.
I'm pretty sure I was hyperventilating.
Then, someone said, "Where is Mr. Bartholomew?"
"Right here," I said.
It was the head nurse, I believe.
She put her hands on my shoulders.
"Your son is okay," she said. He was out, he was crying, and he was headed to the special care unit. He was only 34 weeks, 5 days. More than a month early. There were concerns. But, he was out.
"Is my wife okay?" I asked.
"She's fine," she said.
I lost it. I'm not a crier. I don't think I've REALLY cried in more than 25 years.
I cried that night.
A lot.
I didn't time it, but it had to be close to 10 minutes, straight.
I tried to stop. I tried to talk, but couldn't. Two of the people I loved most in the world, one who I'd never even met, had just gone through hell. I was positive that at least one of them was dead.
Maxwell Steven Bartholomew was born at 12:41am, on Mother's Day. He was 6 pounds, exactly, and 19 1/2 inches. He cried right when he came out, which is a good sign. He is breathing on his own, which is also a good sign. Everyone is saying that he'll be fine.
My wife is a train wreck. She got to have surgery on her ankle AND have a c-section ALL IN THE SAME DAY!!!! Most people don't even do that in the same week!! Say what you will about my wife, but when Brooke does something she does it BIG.
My daughter is okay. She's 8. It's hard seeing mommy in such bad shape when you're only 8. We have talked about it, a lot, and I think she'll be alright. She just wants to hold her little brother. She can't, now, because he's in what is, basically, ICU. She's not allowed in there. Soon, though.
I would prefer to try and make you laugh. The key word there being "TRY." But, sometimes real life smacks you in the face.
If the guy who wanted to save the .15 cents comes back, he can have the baby shirt for free. Some things seem so much less important, today, than they were yesterday.
I'm taking a couple of days off, for obvious reasons. Even if you don't like me, please keep my family in your prayers. God knows we need it.
Casey
Lots of people came to my house, offered me less money for things that were already grossly under priced, and got angry when I wouldn't take it. One guy even called me a name because I wouldn't take .10 for something that we were only selling for .25 cents.
WHAT!?!!
Let me tell you something, Jasper..........If you are only .15 cents away from financial ruin, it might be time to close up shop and move on. But, he spent a full 5 minutes arguing with me about .15 cents. Then, when I wouldn't budge, he told me that I was being a "tight ass."
HUH!?!!
ME!?!!
HE was the one who wouldn't drop an extra dime, and nickel, for an article of baby clothing that I probably paid $15 for, 7 years ago. Even if he pays the .25 cents, he STILL wins, BIG TIME. Truth be told, the guy didn't look like he had many "victories" in his life, and shouldn't be passing them up when they are put on a silver platter for him.
He didn't buy the shirt. Apparently, .15 cents was to great a price to pay for his pride.
Things went along, well. We made a few hundred bucks. We brought everything that was left over into the garage, so that no one could steal it before we threw it away. Once that was done, I hopped on my riding mower, and hit the backyard.
About 10 minutes into the mowing, my daughter screamed bloody murder. This is not out of the ordinary. That's what she does. Screams bloody murder. I'm not joking when I say that people have suggested we get her an agent so that she can scream bloody murder, for money. I guess there is a big market for this. But, we haven't investigated it. I'm sure I'll live to regret that decision, when the radio work dries up. But, anyway, I kept on about my business of mowing the lawn.
Then, my daughter ran out the back door, crying, and screaming "Mommy fell....Mommy fell!!!!"
I jumped off my mower, and ran inside.
My wife was laying on the ground, in the garage. She had fallen down the single step that leads into the garage. She was on her side.......She was crying........Her right foot was facing the WRONG DIRECTION.
Sometimes it takes the brain a moment to process things like that. So, I said that stupidest possible thing that I could have said, at that moment.
"BROOKE!!!!! ARE YOU OKAY!?!!!"
She screamed that her foot was broken.
Of course her foot was broken. What a freaking bonehead I am.
My daughter was screaming, and crying.
At that moment, I simply did not know what to do.
I ran for the phone, and called 911. They answered quick.
"My pregnant wife has fallen down a step, and her foot is broken. It's facing the wrong direction."
I told that to two separate operators. I don't know why I had to tell it to two of them. But, I did. In truth, I'm sure I sounded hysterical. I'm also sure that I yelled, rather than spoke, what I was telling them.
I was told NOT to move, OR touch her. The ambulance was on its way.
I stood there.
DON'T touch, OR move her.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?!!!!!!!!!!
Everyone was crying.
My neighbor came over, and saved my life. She took my daughter over to her house, and kept her there for the night. It's not as creepy as it sounds. My daughter plays with her kids, all the time.
My mother-in-law, who is a nurse and had been at the house the whole day, drove up. She had already left for home, but came back. She had, by some fluke, forgotten her cell phone and decided to come back and get it.
It probably took a total of 5 minutes for the ambulance to get there. It felt like 5 hours.
They got Brooke stabilized, and we headed to the hospital. It was not like on TV. I did not get to ride in the back with her, hold her hand, talk to her, and tell her things would be okay. I had to ride in the front. It felt like the longest drive of my life.
On a side note, while you are driving, GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY WHEN YOU HEAR A SIREN!!!!!
I can't tell you how many people view a siren as a chance to get further in traffic, rather than getting out of the way. People just sat there. My wife is going through hell, in the back, and these jerks would not get out of the way. If I'd had a gun, blood would have been spilled on that day. Just move over to the right. Nothing you have to do is as important as what the ambulance has to go do. I don't care who you are.
We got to the hospital, with Brooke's foot still facing the wrong direction, and were rushed into the emergency room. I'm speeding things along, here. But, after a while they knocked her out, put her foot the right way, and put a cast on her. It was not pretty.
We were told that she would have to have surgery, and that they would talk to everyone and make sure everything they used would be okay for the baby. We were satisfied. It had to be done, and they seemed to know what they were doing.
Roughly 3 hours later, Brooke was out of surgery, with several screws and plates in her ankle, and the baby was fine.
I was with her, in the recovery room, where she was coming out of everything, and they had a fetal monitor on her stomach to hear the baby's heartbeat. It was going okay.
Until they lost the baby's heartbeat.
The nurse kept moving the monitor around, trying to find it, and couldn't. She didn't seem concerned.
"Is this a problem?" I asked her.
"No," she said. "I'll call someone from upstairs to look. They are more familiar with doing this."
So, someone from the maternity area, I believe, came down to look.
We were okay. Brooke was still, mostly, out. I was curious, but no one else seemed concerned.
The nurse from maternity couldn't find the heartbeat either.
"Is this a problem?" I asked, again.
I was VERY concerned, now.
I was told that they were going to have a doctor come down, with an ultrasound machine, and look.
That didn't seem good.
Something wasn't right.
The doctor came, with the machine, and looked for the heartbeat. He seemed to find it, with the ultrasound machine. But, could not find it with the monitor. Either way, it wasn't right and I could tell. He kept looking, and kept finding the same result. So, he decided to do a pelvic exam.
He did.
Then, the most terrifying :30 minutes of my life began.
Everyone started running around. Orders were being barked. My wife was looking at me, and we locked eyes. She held up the sign for "I love you."
The doctor asked who my wife's doctor was. When he got the name he yelled "Call him, and tell him to get in here, NOW!!!"
You know how, in the movies, the run down the hallway, with the patient on a bed, and scream all sorts of orders out?
That was happening.
They got Brooke onto an elevator, and were taking up to do an emergency c-section. Someone yelled, "We have to get this baby, NOW!!!"
I had to take the next elevator, with my mother-in-law.
They put us in the waiting room, with a nurse.
I'm not a patient man. I don't do well with idle time, especially when things are happening to people I love.
I paced.
As far as I knew, my son, who had not been born, was dead. My wife was in serious trouble. There is nothing more frightening. I would not wish this on my worst enemy.
The nurse made calls. A variety of different people needed to be up here, and they needed to be up here NOW.
I hadn't been saying anything. There wasn't anything to say, and no one to say it to. My mother-in-law was trying to call her husband, who happens to be a doctor, just to see if he could tell her anything.
The nurse said, "Would you like me to call a preacher?"
I snapped.
"PREACHER!?!!! WHAT DO I NEED A PREACHER FOR!?!!!!!"
My brain, which was fried, was not seeing how anything good was going to come of this. My life was in another room and I couldn't get to it. I couldn't get the information I wanted. I couldn't fix this problem. All I could do was watch a door, and wait. I wanted to throw a chair through the window.
I paced.
I'm pretty sure I was hyperventilating.
Then, someone said, "Where is Mr. Bartholomew?"
"Right here," I said.
It was the head nurse, I believe.
She put her hands on my shoulders.
"Your son is okay," she said. He was out, he was crying, and he was headed to the special care unit. He was only 34 weeks, 5 days. More than a month early. There were concerns. But, he was out.
"Is my wife okay?" I asked.
"She's fine," she said.
I lost it. I'm not a crier. I don't think I've REALLY cried in more than 25 years.
I cried that night.
A lot.
I didn't time it, but it had to be close to 10 minutes, straight.
I tried to stop. I tried to talk, but couldn't. Two of the people I loved most in the world, one who I'd never even met, had just gone through hell. I was positive that at least one of them was dead.
Maxwell Steven Bartholomew was born at 12:41am, on Mother's Day. He was 6 pounds, exactly, and 19 1/2 inches. He cried right when he came out, which is a good sign. He is breathing on his own, which is also a good sign. Everyone is saying that he'll be fine.
My wife is a train wreck. She got to have surgery on her ankle AND have a c-section ALL IN THE SAME DAY!!!! Most people don't even do that in the same week!! Say what you will about my wife, but when Brooke does something she does it BIG.
My daughter is okay. She's 8. It's hard seeing mommy in such bad shape when you're only 8. We have talked about it, a lot, and I think she'll be alright. She just wants to hold her little brother. She can't, now, because he's in what is, basically, ICU. She's not allowed in there. Soon, though.
I would prefer to try and make you laugh. The key word there being "TRY." But, sometimes real life smacks you in the face.
If the guy who wanted to save the .15 cents comes back, he can have the baby shirt for free. Some things seem so much less important, today, than they were yesterday.
I'm taking a couple of days off, for obvious reasons. Even if you don't like me, please keep my family in your prayers. God knows we need it.
Casey
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Dead Will Walk The Earth....At My House....Saturday
Let's take a look into the future..........
My future........
This weekend, to be specific......
It's going to suck, in case you were wondering.For the people who follow my life in this blog, you know that, aside from YOU seriously needing to get a life, I currently live in New Jersey while my wife, daughter, and almost-son live in Missouri. Right now, they are getting ready to move here. In order to help accomplish this task we are going to engage in a psuedo satanic ritual known as a YARD SALE!!!!!!
This is where we will spend several hours, in the sun, trying to sell things to people that I WANTED TO THROW AWAY!!!!!!
AND, when I say "we" I mean "I" will spend several hours in the sun, selling garbage. If any of these people had half a brain, they wouldn't come by SATURDAY morning....They would come by MONDAY morning when this VERY SAME STUFF will be sitting at my curb, waiting for the garbage truck, and they could take it all for FREE!!!!
But, no. Not them. These are savy, motivated garbage collecters. They would not lower themselves to taking FREE garbage. They only want garbage that they can PAY for. Or, better yet, HAGGLE over.
Customer: How much do you want for this smelly, empty milk carton?
Me: Well, it's been in the family for years. How about .10 cents?
Customer: I'll give you .05 cents for it.
Me: .07 cents!!
Customer: .06 cents!!
Me: SOLD!!!
Customer: HA!!!! FOOL!!!! I would have gone as high as .08 cents!!!! FACE!!!!
Me: Damn.
And this is how it will go, for several hours.
The best part is that we have baby clothes. Tons of baby clothes. We have NEVER thrown away even a single stitch of clothing that my daughter, who is now 8, has worn. We always thought that we were going to have another baby. Plus, we always thought that it was going to be a girl. We already HAD a girl. My wife is a girl. I wear a Kermit the Frog hat, and collect Mickey Mouse watches. So, it just made sense that we would have another girl. Of course, God having a sense of humor about my life, we are having a boy. That means that, not only to we have to invest in tons of clothing, which we will also NEVER throw away, for a boy, I also had to carry 1,376 heavy boxes of old clothes up from the basement.
We have been told that this is a good thing. People love baby clothes. They LOVE going through boxes and boxes of vomit encrusted, musty, 7 year old baby clothes. Personally, I think this is an odd "fetish" thing, and every one of these people need to be reported, and should have to register. But, if they're willing to take it away from my house, I'm willing to give them a pass.
This will also bring out, I'm told, the grandparents. The elderly. I don't care for the elderly. All they want to do is "talk" to you......Often times, about nothing.....It's just that no one REALLY wants to talk to them. So, when they have an idiot (me), who was stupid enough to have a yard sale (again, me), with boxes of baby clothes it will become the senior citizen social event of the season.
Old Person: How much for this cute little outfit?
Me: $2.
Old Person: I have a granddaughter.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: She lives in Oregon.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: Would you like to see a picture?
Me: No.
Old Person: That's her, in the middle.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: Isn't she cute?
Me: No.
Old Person: They never call.
Me: I can see why.
Old Person: Isn't it a lovely day?
Me: It was, until about :30 seconds ago.
Old Person: I just love yard sales, don't you?
Me: No. It forces me to talk to people like you.
Old Person: How long have you lived in this house?
Me: I'd say, about a day too long.
Old Person: Is that your cat?
Me: Yes.
Old Person: I have a cat.
Me: I would have thought several.
Old Person: Would you like to see a picture?
Me: No
Old Person: (Author's Note: At this point the old person magically vanished. If you know what's good for you, you won't ask any questions about it. It's a big ocean. People get lost. It happens every day.)
So, that will be my weekend. The really sad part is that THAT is the most positive version of it that my mind could come up with. Odds are pretty good that it's going to be worse!!! There may be an entire BUSLOAD of old people!!!! Have you ever noticed that? They don't always have things to do, so they put the elderly on a bus and drive them places. Probably to MY HOUSE, this weekend!!!!!
SEE???????
God mocks me!!!!!!
Hell, I imagine, is a huge yard sale, on a hot day, with cheap people, and old women..............And I get to live it, this weeknd.What do you think Monday's blog will be about?
Ugh........
Casey
My future........
This weekend, to be specific......
It's going to suck, in case you were wondering.For the people who follow my life in this blog, you know that, aside from YOU seriously needing to get a life, I currently live in New Jersey while my wife, daughter, and almost-son live in Missouri. Right now, they are getting ready to move here. In order to help accomplish this task we are going to engage in a psuedo satanic ritual known as a YARD SALE!!!!!!
This is where we will spend several hours, in the sun, trying to sell things to people that I WANTED TO THROW AWAY!!!!!!
AND, when I say "we" I mean "I" will spend several hours in the sun, selling garbage. If any of these people had half a brain, they wouldn't come by SATURDAY morning....They would come by MONDAY morning when this VERY SAME STUFF will be sitting at my curb, waiting for the garbage truck, and they could take it all for FREE!!!!
But, no. Not them. These are savy, motivated garbage collecters. They would not lower themselves to taking FREE garbage. They only want garbage that they can PAY for. Or, better yet, HAGGLE over.
Customer: How much do you want for this smelly, empty milk carton?
Me: Well, it's been in the family for years. How about .10 cents?
Customer: I'll give you .05 cents for it.
Me: .07 cents!!
Customer: .06 cents!!
Me: SOLD!!!
Customer: HA!!!! FOOL!!!! I would have gone as high as .08 cents!!!! FACE!!!!
Me: Damn.
And this is how it will go, for several hours.
The best part is that we have baby clothes. Tons of baby clothes. We have NEVER thrown away even a single stitch of clothing that my daughter, who is now 8, has worn. We always thought that we were going to have another baby. Plus, we always thought that it was going to be a girl. We already HAD a girl. My wife is a girl. I wear a Kermit the Frog hat, and collect Mickey Mouse watches. So, it just made sense that we would have another girl. Of course, God having a sense of humor about my life, we are having a boy. That means that, not only to we have to invest in tons of clothing, which we will also NEVER throw away, for a boy, I also had to carry 1,376 heavy boxes of old clothes up from the basement.
We have been told that this is a good thing. People love baby clothes. They LOVE going through boxes and boxes of vomit encrusted, musty, 7 year old baby clothes. Personally, I think this is an odd "fetish" thing, and every one of these people need to be reported, and should have to register. But, if they're willing to take it away from my house, I'm willing to give them a pass.
This will also bring out, I'm told, the grandparents. The elderly. I don't care for the elderly. All they want to do is "talk" to you......Often times, about nothing.....It's just that no one REALLY wants to talk to them. So, when they have an idiot (me), who was stupid enough to have a yard sale (again, me), with boxes of baby clothes it will become the senior citizen social event of the season.
Old Person: How much for this cute little outfit?
Me: $2.
Old Person: I have a granddaughter.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: She lives in Oregon.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: Would you like to see a picture?
Me: No.
Old Person: That's her, in the middle.
Me: I don't care.
Old Person: Isn't she cute?
Me: No.
Old Person: They never call.
Me: I can see why.
Old Person: Isn't it a lovely day?
Me: It was, until about :30 seconds ago.
Old Person: I just love yard sales, don't you?
Me: No. It forces me to talk to people like you.
Old Person: How long have you lived in this house?
Me: I'd say, about a day too long.
Old Person: Is that your cat?
Me: Yes.
Old Person: I have a cat.
Me: I would have thought several.
Old Person: Would you like to see a picture?
Me: No
Old Person: (Author's Note: At this point the old person magically vanished. If you know what's good for you, you won't ask any questions about it. It's a big ocean. People get lost. It happens every day.)
So, that will be my weekend. The really sad part is that THAT is the most positive version of it that my mind could come up with. Odds are pretty good that it's going to be worse!!! There may be an entire BUSLOAD of old people!!!! Have you ever noticed that? They don't always have things to do, so they put the elderly on a bus and drive them places. Probably to MY HOUSE, this weekend!!!!!
SEE???????
God mocks me!!!!!!
Hell, I imagine, is a huge yard sale, on a hot day, with cheap people, and old women..............And I get to live it, this weeknd.What do you think Monday's blog will be about?
Ugh........
Casey
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Princess.......Is Snoring.
When your beautiful wife, whom you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with, comes to you and tells you that you are going to have a baby you need to get ready for a major life change.
I'm talking about, of course, the snoring.
Second time fathers, like myself, are not shocked by this. It's the first time dads who hear the news of their pending fatherhood, shed a tear, and think about what the future will hold for their little bundles of joy. It won't be until roughly six to seven months down the road that they wake up in the middle of the night and say:
"What, in the name of all things holy, is that freaking noise!?!!! Did someone break into the house with a chainsaw!?!!!"
Ah........The miracle of creating life.
The second time dads will understand what I'm talking about. You see, when my wife told ME that we were going to have another baby, my first thoughts were not of names, or colleges, or telling the grandparents. My first thought was, "Geez....I'm not gonna get ANY sleep."
Now, my delicate flower of a wife is ripping the roof off the joint, whenever we go to bed. I was raised in a house full of men. My mom is the only other woman I've ever lived with. Girls aren't SUPPOSED to snore, or have gas, or use harsh language. I was such a fool.....Wait.....Maybe "idiot" would be more fitting.
On TV, which was my only experience with women before I met my wife, this doesn't happen. The women get pregnant, they get bigger, they start to knit, and they get odd cravings for things. That doesn't REALLY happen in real life. What REALLY happens is that they get......please understand that I'm not trying to be offensive in any way, shape, or form.......SCARY.
They snore.......LOUDLY........and get mad if you say anything.
They have gas.......AND IT'S NOT CUTE.
They kick you, while you sleep, then get mad at YOU for trying to sleep where they were CLEARLY going to put their foot!!!!!
Then, they accuse you of lying, in your blog, and making up stories about them. You try and convince them that you AREN'T lying, and that you are just trying to give advice to OTHER guys who have not yet experienced the....uh.....JOY of pregnancy. Then, they don't speak to you for a while, and you start to think that they WERE NOT, in fact, asleep when they were kicking you in bed, last night. But, you are to scared to say anything because YOU are afraid that they might stop kicking you, and actually do something WORSE. You don't know what that could be, but you've seen the softball bat that your delicate flower keeps next to the bed (in case someone breaks in.....right), and you're worried that you might wake up with a broken arm, or fractured skull, or something along those lines. You try and tell yourself that its all "hormones," whatever the hell that means, and that it's not HER fault. So, you try to apologize for some of the things you've done. You hope that this will make her feel better, AND extend your personal life expectancy. But, something about YOU makes it impossible for you to stop doing stupid things. This is why, when you casually mention that your daughter's second grade teacher is, quote, "smokin' hot," you see that glare that makes you realize that you might NEVER live to see your unborn son. I mean, it's not YOUR fault that your daughter's teacher is hot. YOU didn't make her. God did (my compliments to God, by the way.) So, you fail to see why YOU should be punished for something you didn't even do. But, rather, you were simply making an observation. Probably one that several of the other fathers have made, too.
Uh..........Anyway...........That is the TRUE beauty of pregnancy..................
If you will excuse me, now, I'm going to try and get some sleep................In the spare bedroom..............With the door locked..............And the dresser pushed against it.............Pregnant women are unusually strong, too.
Casey
I'm talking about, of course, the snoring.
Second time fathers, like myself, are not shocked by this. It's the first time dads who hear the news of their pending fatherhood, shed a tear, and think about what the future will hold for their little bundles of joy. It won't be until roughly six to seven months down the road that they wake up in the middle of the night and say:
"What, in the name of all things holy, is that freaking noise!?!!! Did someone break into the house with a chainsaw!?!!!"
Ah........The miracle of creating life.
The second time dads will understand what I'm talking about. You see, when my wife told ME that we were going to have another baby, my first thoughts were not of names, or colleges, or telling the grandparents. My first thought was, "Geez....I'm not gonna get ANY sleep."
Now, my delicate flower of a wife is ripping the roof off the joint, whenever we go to bed. I was raised in a house full of men. My mom is the only other woman I've ever lived with. Girls aren't SUPPOSED to snore, or have gas, or use harsh language. I was such a fool.....Wait.....Maybe "idiot" would be more fitting.
On TV, which was my only experience with women before I met my wife, this doesn't happen. The women get pregnant, they get bigger, they start to knit, and they get odd cravings for things. That doesn't REALLY happen in real life. What REALLY happens is that they get......please understand that I'm not trying to be offensive in any way, shape, or form.......SCARY.
They snore.......LOUDLY........and get mad if you say anything.
They have gas.......AND IT'S NOT CUTE.
They kick you, while you sleep, then get mad at YOU for trying to sleep where they were CLEARLY going to put their foot!!!!!
Then, they accuse you of lying, in your blog, and making up stories about them. You try and convince them that you AREN'T lying, and that you are just trying to give advice to OTHER guys who have not yet experienced the....uh.....JOY of pregnancy. Then, they don't speak to you for a while, and you start to think that they WERE NOT, in fact, asleep when they were kicking you in bed, last night. But, you are to scared to say anything because YOU are afraid that they might stop kicking you, and actually do something WORSE. You don't know what that could be, but you've seen the softball bat that your delicate flower keeps next to the bed (in case someone breaks in.....right), and you're worried that you might wake up with a broken arm, or fractured skull, or something along those lines. You try and tell yourself that its all "hormones," whatever the hell that means, and that it's not HER fault. So, you try to apologize for some of the things you've done. You hope that this will make her feel better, AND extend your personal life expectancy. But, something about YOU makes it impossible for you to stop doing stupid things. This is why, when you casually mention that your daughter's second grade teacher is, quote, "smokin' hot," you see that glare that makes you realize that you might NEVER live to see your unborn son. I mean, it's not YOUR fault that your daughter's teacher is hot. YOU didn't make her. God did (my compliments to God, by the way.) So, you fail to see why YOU should be punished for something you didn't even do. But, rather, you were simply making an observation. Probably one that several of the other fathers have made, too.
Uh..........Anyway...........That is the TRUE beauty of pregnancy..................
If you will excuse me, now, I'm going to try and get some sleep................In the spare bedroom..............With the door locked..............And the dresser pushed against it.............Pregnant women are unusually strong, too.
Casey
Friday, May 2, 2008
MR. ANSWER GUY AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM!!!!
Call your neighbors......
Get the kids..........
Turn off the phone.........
TiVo whatever pathetic reality show you're watching.........
I have drank from the fountain of knowledge, and I am hear to answer(ish) life's biggest questions.....
I AM...............
MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!!!!!!!!!
How ya' doin'?
Let's get started.....
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
My son asked me what the HBO mini series John Adams is about. Do you know??
Arlene-Flemington
If I'm not mistaken, I believe that is the one about the big time, Hollywood actor who, after achieving a level of success, asks all his friends from "the neighborhood" to come out and live with him. He pays them all to, basically, be his friends and go to all the big Hollywood parties with him. I think Matt Dillon's brother is in it, too. It's either that one, or the one about the polygamist in Utah (shocking), who is trying to juggle the demands of everyday life, with 3 wives. Something that all of us can relate to. Either way, your kid asks too many questions. Just plop him down in front of the TV, and go sit outside your trailer. You have better things to do than answer a bunch of questions from some mouthy punk.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
I'm a nerdy guy (nerdy enough to study computer science). I go to acollege that happens to cater to my kind. However this leaves me witha dillema. The male to female ration is around 7:3 which iscompounded by my major course of study (which is likely a 7:1 ratio).What should I do?
Patrick - Somewhere in New Jersey
First, learn how to spell "dilemma." People will always be suspect of a computer scientist who doesn't even know how to use spell check. As to your question, there are literally millions of, shall we say, "special interest" web sites, of an adult nature, on the internet. I would start checking those out. If you are what you describe, I'm afraid that's as close as you're going to come, my friend. These aren't my rules. They're God's rules.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
How do I tell my friend's girlfriend that I'm in love with her?
Neil - Plainfield
You DON'T, you bonehead!!!!
You've seen too many bad sitcoms, or John Hughes movies. You are a pathetic loser!!! I know what you THINK is going to happen if you tell her. You THINK she's going to look at you, and tell you that YOU were the one that she was really interested in. You THINK she's going to lose any feelings she had for your friend, call him up, dump him, and make herself 100% available to you. Then, you THINK that your "friend" is going to come to your house, his eyes still wet from the tears, and tell you that everything is "cool." But, he will make you promise to treat her right, and never hurt her. Then, he will give you a "man hug," and the three of you will remain good friends for the rest of your lives. Then the screen will fade to black, and the credits will roll.
That's what you THINK will happen.
YOU are an idiot.
Here's what's REALLY going to happen.
You will come up with some boneheaded plan to get her alone. It doesn't matter how you do it. It won't make sense to anyone else. But, since you're a bonehead, it will make perfect sense to YOU. Then, when you have her alone, you'll tell her. "I just wanted you to know that I was in love with you."
Then there will be a long, awkward silence where she will try and figure out the best way to blow you off, easily, yet NOT have you hack her to a thousand pieces with the ax that you probably have on you, and store her remains in the trunk before you dump them in the ocean. Because, you see, YOU are insane. This explains why it was so difficult to actually GET her alone. She doesn't WANT to be alone with you, because you make her feel uncomfortable. When you're not there, she asks her boyfriend "Do we HAVE to take Neil with us?"
Then, it gets better. After letting you down easy, because she doesn't want to be murdered by you, she goes back and tells her boyfriend. Instead of coming to your house, and giving you a "man hug," and telling you that everything is okay, he tells you that you're lucky he doesn't beat the snot out of you. Then, he tells you that, if he ever sees you talking to his girlfriend again, that he will beat you worse than you've ever been beaten before. Then, he will leave and tell all the rest of your friends what a bonehead you are. At this point, none of them will want to be around you, because you are so freaking stupid, AND you tried to betray a friend. You will end up friendless, and alone. Forever.
Keep your trap shut. Try internet dating. Most of them are large mutants. But, you won't end up dying by yourself. I guess that's something.
By the way, don't ask me how I KNOW what will happen. I just do.......shut up.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
How much wood would a wood chuck chuck, if a wood chuck would chuck wood?
Patty - Fort Lee
Stop being obvious. It's beneath you.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
What do I do about VPL?
Melissa - Lodi
I've never truly understood why women worry about this. Mind you, I know women think men are dumb. For the most part, you are right. We are dumb. BUT, we do know that women wear underwear. There are entire stores in malls devoted to this. We caught on years ago. Then, on the rare occasion that we were able to see some of you OUT of your clothes, one of the first things we noticed were the panties. We did not, I repeat NOT think that it was some sort of floral/lace layer of skin that you had developed through evolution. Plus, and this may shock you, we're okay with it. We wear underwear, generally. We know that YOU wear underwear. So, if we see evidence of it, we aren't going to run screaming into the night. Trust me. The following conversation has NEVER happened: (note: I have used a modern vernacular in order to appeal to the younger "hip" crowd that may be reading my blog.)
Guy 1: "Yo' G......Did you have sexual relations with that visually pleasing young woman, of the opposite sex, that I scoped you with at the Hip Hop presentation, two evenings prior?"
Guy 2: "Negative, Dawwwwwwwwg. Check out the words I am saying.....I was escorting her to my pimped out ride, when I noticed an angular line on her buttocks, thus denoting the presence of undergarments. It was whack."
Guy 1: "You must have been bummed, to the max, Bro."
Guy 2: "Word."
I'm assuming this conversation took place in a back ally, somewhere in "the hood." But, still, the point is the same. Guys don't care about VPL. You don't have to worry about us. You do have to worry about OTHER women, though. THEY care about VPL, and will tell everyone in earshot if you have it. It's one of many reasons that I'm glad I'm a guy.
Unless you were talking about Microsoft Visual Programming Language (VPL), which is an application development environment designed on a graphical data-flow-based programming model rather than control flow typically found in conventional programming. If that's the case, you need to call Bill Gates. Computers aren't my thing.
Done!!!!!
The world's problems solved, again, by me: MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!!!!!
If you have any questions for the next, riveting edition just send them to mranswerguy@gmail.com
I will do my best to save the world, one question at a time!!!!!
It's my thing.
Casey
Get the kids..........
Turn off the phone.........
TiVo whatever pathetic reality show you're watching.........
I have drank from the fountain of knowledge, and I am hear to answer(ish) life's biggest questions.....
I AM...............
MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!!!!!!!!!
How ya' doin'?
Let's get started.....
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
My son asked me what the HBO mini series John Adams is about. Do you know??
Arlene-Flemington
If I'm not mistaken, I believe that is the one about the big time, Hollywood actor who, after achieving a level of success, asks all his friends from "the neighborhood" to come out and live with him. He pays them all to, basically, be his friends and go to all the big Hollywood parties with him. I think Matt Dillon's brother is in it, too. It's either that one, or the one about the polygamist in Utah (shocking), who is trying to juggle the demands of everyday life, with 3 wives. Something that all of us can relate to. Either way, your kid asks too many questions. Just plop him down in front of the TV, and go sit outside your trailer. You have better things to do than answer a bunch of questions from some mouthy punk.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
I'm a nerdy guy (nerdy enough to study computer science). I go to acollege that happens to cater to my kind. However this leaves me witha dillema. The male to female ration is around 7:3 which iscompounded by my major course of study (which is likely a 7:1 ratio).What should I do?
Patrick - Somewhere in New Jersey
First, learn how to spell "dilemma." People will always be suspect of a computer scientist who doesn't even know how to use spell check. As to your question, there are literally millions of, shall we say, "special interest" web sites, of an adult nature, on the internet. I would start checking those out. If you are what you describe, I'm afraid that's as close as you're going to come, my friend. These aren't my rules. They're God's rules.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
How do I tell my friend's girlfriend that I'm in love with her?
Neil - Plainfield
You DON'T, you bonehead!!!!
You've seen too many bad sitcoms, or John Hughes movies. You are a pathetic loser!!! I know what you THINK is going to happen if you tell her. You THINK she's going to look at you, and tell you that YOU were the one that she was really interested in. You THINK she's going to lose any feelings she had for your friend, call him up, dump him, and make herself 100% available to you. Then, you THINK that your "friend" is going to come to your house, his eyes still wet from the tears, and tell you that everything is "cool." But, he will make you promise to treat her right, and never hurt her. Then, he will give you a "man hug," and the three of you will remain good friends for the rest of your lives. Then the screen will fade to black, and the credits will roll.
That's what you THINK will happen.
YOU are an idiot.
Here's what's REALLY going to happen.
You will come up with some boneheaded plan to get her alone. It doesn't matter how you do it. It won't make sense to anyone else. But, since you're a bonehead, it will make perfect sense to YOU. Then, when you have her alone, you'll tell her. "I just wanted you to know that I was in love with you."
Then there will be a long, awkward silence where she will try and figure out the best way to blow you off, easily, yet NOT have you hack her to a thousand pieces with the ax that you probably have on you, and store her remains in the trunk before you dump them in the ocean. Because, you see, YOU are insane. This explains why it was so difficult to actually GET her alone. She doesn't WANT to be alone with you, because you make her feel uncomfortable. When you're not there, she asks her boyfriend "Do we HAVE to take Neil with us?"
Then, it gets better. After letting you down easy, because she doesn't want to be murdered by you, she goes back and tells her boyfriend. Instead of coming to your house, and giving you a "man hug," and telling you that everything is okay, he tells you that you're lucky he doesn't beat the snot out of you. Then, he tells you that, if he ever sees you talking to his girlfriend again, that he will beat you worse than you've ever been beaten before. Then, he will leave and tell all the rest of your friends what a bonehead you are. At this point, none of them will want to be around you, because you are so freaking stupid, AND you tried to betray a friend. You will end up friendless, and alone. Forever.
Keep your trap shut. Try internet dating. Most of them are large mutants. But, you won't end up dying by yourself. I guess that's something.
By the way, don't ask me how I KNOW what will happen. I just do.......shut up.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
How much wood would a wood chuck chuck, if a wood chuck would chuck wood?
Patty - Fort Lee
Stop being obvious. It's beneath you.
Dear Mr. Answer Guy,
What do I do about VPL?
Melissa - Lodi
I've never truly understood why women worry about this. Mind you, I know women think men are dumb. For the most part, you are right. We are dumb. BUT, we do know that women wear underwear. There are entire stores in malls devoted to this. We caught on years ago. Then, on the rare occasion that we were able to see some of you OUT of your clothes, one of the first things we noticed were the panties. We did not, I repeat NOT think that it was some sort of floral/lace layer of skin that you had developed through evolution. Plus, and this may shock you, we're okay with it. We wear underwear, generally. We know that YOU wear underwear. So, if we see evidence of it, we aren't going to run screaming into the night. Trust me. The following conversation has NEVER happened: (note: I have used a modern vernacular in order to appeal to the younger "hip" crowd that may be reading my blog.)
Guy 1: "Yo' G......Did you have sexual relations with that visually pleasing young woman, of the opposite sex, that I scoped you with at the Hip Hop presentation, two evenings prior?"
Guy 2: "Negative, Dawwwwwwwwg. Check out the words I am saying.....I was escorting her to my pimped out ride, when I noticed an angular line on her buttocks, thus denoting the presence of undergarments. It was whack."
Guy 1: "You must have been bummed, to the max, Bro."
Guy 2: "Word."
I'm assuming this conversation took place in a back ally, somewhere in "the hood." But, still, the point is the same. Guys don't care about VPL. You don't have to worry about us. You do have to worry about OTHER women, though. THEY care about VPL, and will tell everyone in earshot if you have it. It's one of many reasons that I'm glad I'm a guy.
Unless you were talking about Microsoft Visual Programming Language (VPL), which is an application development environment designed on a graphical data-flow-based programming model rather than control flow typically found in conventional programming. If that's the case, you need to call Bill Gates. Computers aren't my thing.
Done!!!!!
The world's problems solved, again, by me: MR. ANSWER GUY!!!!!!!!
If you have any questions for the next, riveting edition just send them to mranswerguy@gmail.com
I will do my best to save the world, one question at a time!!!!!
It's my thing.
Casey
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