Results From The Latest Poll Show

Not a whole lot of you are voting! What's up with that? Do you know the time & effort it took me to a) think of 4 interesting stories from my past & b) make them rhyme? Do you?

Ooops. Channelled my inner Conrad there. My bad. No guilt trips here.

Anyhoo...

Poll results:

• Uncle Ed delivers a bed ~ 0 votes (0%)
• Take a hike? NO! Ride a bike! ~ 1 vote (14%)
• Sonuvabitch, I've got the itch. ~ 1 (14%)
• What have we here? Girls drinking beer?!? ~ 5 votes (72%)

Stay tuned for the tantalizing story of Girls Drinking Beer!

How Will I Know If He Really Loves Me?

Okay, so fine, whatever, it's been over a month year. Sue me! I've been all busy & depressed & doing paperwork & fighting a bad back & running to the dentist every week & living life & shit. &, I kinda forgot I was doing this. WHATEVAH!


So, the one day when the lady met this fella...

Picture it: Dodge, December 1987.

She: a girl with big 80s hair, just a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world...
He: just a small-town boy, Her sister's ex-boyfriend, wearin' acid wash jeans & 5 years more livin' than She.

She works hard for the money at the local theatre; so hard for it, honey ~ 5 nights a week.
He saunters in that December night with one of her exes & invites Her to a Christmas party {free booze, live band, did I mention free booze? YAY!}.
She accepts & after Her shift, they wait for His ex to get off work at Le Coque Rouge.

The 4 exes head to the party in a small town 15 minutes away. She finds out when they arrive that it's His brother's company Christmas party.

She, confused, thinks Her ex is looking for reconciliation.
She, confused, is wrong.

He asks Her to dance, & whirls & twirls her dizzy to "The Orange Blossom Special".
She lurves to dance & feels a spark of interest for Him, despite the fact He makes fun of Her 'Vulcan Death Grip' on the back of His neck.

He craftily maneuvers the seating arrangement on the way home.
She becomes less confused when He puts His hand on Her knee.

He, still scheming, drop the exes off first.
She willingly does not insist on going home immediately.

He graciously shows Her the sights.
She, smitten, stays out all night.






& wasn't that a long-winded, fancy way of saying Puffy took me to Le Ville du Coe, got me drunk & then we parked behind the grad barn until 6 AM? Our first date. December, 1987.
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Huh. Over 21 years.
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Whatever He did, it musta worked.

Poll #3 Results

Here is how the results stack up at the end of voting:

Muskrat Love ~ 0 votes (0%) although Blue did tell me if she were able to vote, she would have picked this one
Can You Tell Me How To Get To Sesame Street? ~ 3 votes (27%)
Mamma Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys ~ 2 votes (18%)
How Will I Know If He Really Loves Me? ~ 6 votes (54%) the winner!!

Re: Poll

Somebody better start voting up one of these stories PDQ cuz I am not accepting a 3 way tie. Just an FYI.

Wilma, Speechless

Back in the day, somewhere in the lost mists of time that was the '90s, Wilma was hot. Wilma was slim, young & sexy. For those of you who only know me now, this is for real & for true. My one niece had known me for 3 years before she saw me without lipstick ~ bright red lipstick. My cousin's kids called me "The Auntie with the long cigarettes & fingernails". There was a time when I would not appear in public without full-on makeup, hair & manicure.

Now, I'm all old, fat & married & could give a horse's patoot. But, in my 20's...sigh. Those were the days of breakin' hearts & takin' no names.

Picture it, university, circa 1991. Puffy & I are on another one of our Ross & Rachel "breaks". FancyPants & I go out to enjoy some great music at a marvelous little place we knew {ok, everyone knew} & a couple drinks with friends.

The band is fabulous. I was grooving & drinking & laughing & having fun when suddenly, FancyPants points out the bass player to me. "He's got a Tom Jones thing happening!" she exclaims in my ear. I look. She is, in fact, quite correct in her assessment.

Now, it's become a car wreck. I can't look away. Is it real? Is it fake? I just don't know!

A word to all the young girls out there ~ if you happen to be in a bar or nightclub type place, & you happen to want to become a groupie, don't pick the lead singer or lead guitarist. Too much competition. The drummer, bass player or keyboardist never get any attention, so they are easy pickings for anyone out there who so desires to pick them. Just an FYI... now, back to the story...

I am staring like a slack-jawed yokel at this poor man in his snug, stone-washed jeans. Seriously. I actually stopped drinking for a few minutes. He notices me noticing him. How? Well, for one thing, my hair is bigger than a doorway {what can I say? the '80s just went on & on for me}. For another, I'm staring at him. Now we start staring at each other. He smiles. I smile. FancyPants is watching the action like a tennis match. I can see the gleam in her eye that says "This is going to get interesting".

The band takes their break. He makes his way over to our table & introduces himself. I tell him my name. He starts chatting, asking me questions about uni, etc. I am stuck dumb. Not dumb as in unable to add 2+2, but dumb as in unable to speak. He tries, vainly, to engage me, to draw something out of me other than "Yup. Nope. Arts." I am incapable of saying more than one-word answers to this man. I think I may have even blushed {for those who know me, I believe this was the last time in my life}. He valiantly presses on, continuing to try to strike up a two-sided conversation. A look of disbelief passes over FancyPants' face as she struggles not to laugh while keeping up my side of the convo.

I must come off as either dim-witted or snotty as hell, cuz he gives up & moves on through the crowd, chatting with the ladies {& I use the term loosely} & grabbing a beer.

I turn to Fancy in horror. "What the hell was that?" she says to me. "I don't know!" I wailed. "OMG, I just couldn't talk to the man!" I dropped my head onto the table & banged it a couple times. She burst out laughing. "I never thought I'd see the day when you couldn't talk to a guy!" she forced out, through peals of laughter. I giggled a little, with shame & self-consciousness.

The band starts playing again. I chain-smoke & chug beer, wondering what the hell just happened. Since when was I intimidated by a mere BOY? FancyPants keeps chuckling, saying "I just can't believe it!". We make eye contact a couple times during the last set, but I can see the pity in his eyes. It makes me determined. I SHALL speak to this man, I vow silently, I will NOT have this curse hanging over me.

When the show is over, & we're heading for the door, we pass by him, chatting with another chick in the crowd. I ask him where they are headed next. He tells me. I ask him when they'll be back. He's unsure, & looks at me with puzzlement, as if to say "Now you talk!". FancyPants is ready to go, so I say something absolutely brilliant, like "Great show! Will be sure to catch you next time you're in town" or some other such rot & we leave.

Now, believe me, I have analyzed this night, this moment in time, over & over again. I've looked at it from all sides & still can't figure out for the life of me what happened. It is the only time I've been willing to talk to someone {a boy} & been physically unable. Did my childhood shyness creep up on me & take over my unsuspecting brain? Is my charm & wit directly connected to the amount of alcohol I consume? Or was I intimidated by his, um, talent?



The answer to these questions, along with the secret of the universe, shall remain unreachable to us mere mortals. Only the gods know, & they're not telling.

Poll #2 Results

Boys & girls, are you sick of having to do things? Am I asking too much for input into the output on this blog? Are you wanting more entertainment & less responsibility? Well, suck it, cuz it ain't easy thinking of stuff to write about every day & you are going to pull up your socks around here & do some stuff, too!

Only 6 votes, why do I even bother? OMG! I was just channelling Conrad there, did you see it? My bad.

Here's the final tally:

My First Gray Hair ~ 2 votes (33%) ~ 2nd place, not bad. I will eventually tell this story anyway.
Sparky, The Wonder Dog ~ 1 vote (16%) ~ Blue, was this you?
Pool Party Crash ~ 0 votes (0%) ~ too bad, this is an awesome story!
Wilma, Speechless ~ 3 votes (50%) ~ the winner! I wonder why?

Story coming soon to a blog near you.

Skinny Dipping At The Lake

This story, requested by the masses, is a two-parter. A two-parter cuz I have partaken of the skinny-dipping more than once, & both times resulted in a fab story that I shall tell you now in great detail & with no exaggeration whatsoever on my part. Honest & for true.

Skinny Dipping At Cochin aka Who's That? 1990

Whilst in the middle of one of my frequently reoccurring throat infections, Puffy & I were invited up to the cabin by some generous & fun-loving friends. Said friends enjoy a drink or 6, & surprisingly enough, so do we!

Several others were also invited, making for a fun-filled, intoxicating & intoxicated weekend. There was BBQing, there was laughing & joke telling, there was singing around the camp fire, there was a sign hanging out front which alluded to someones sex life ~ this weekend had it all! I was at that stage in the throat infection where I sounded like a cross between Joan Rivers & Kathleen Turner & Mel Torme. You know, the 1-900 phone sex voice.

One night, after copious amounts of red wine {which our host assured me was healthy & would make me better} 3 of us ladies ~ & I use that term loosely ~ decided that 2:30 AM was THE PERFECT time for a swim. Off we went into the lake {which was super warm, BTW, & no it wasn't cuz I was drunk & had a fever} leaving a trail of clothing behind us, draping the last bits of our decency over a boat conveniently moored along our path.

It was a bright, moonlit night. I can picture it clearly. It was a beautiful night.The moon shimmering off the lake, everything looking a little blurry, I couldn't even feel the greeblies under my feet. There we were, giggling & chatting & laughing & mayhaps even snorting.

Someone said, "Can you imagine if someone was listening to us?" Out of the darkness, a disembodied male voice answered, "There is". I screamed. FancyPants screamed. FancyPants' sister screamed. We all looked {Sis & I a little harder than Fancy since we both didn't have our glasses on} & there he stood. FancyPants' friend, Hot Doc.

Sis & I laughed, then beat a hasty retreat. We'd had enough swimming for one day.

Skinny Dipping At Wakaw aka Abort! Abort! 2003ish

Peanut had graciously extended an invitation to the lake, so FancyPants & I took full advantage. We travelled up & were greeted with hugs, salutations, & martinis.

It was a beautiful night. The lake looked like glass. It was so calm & quiet & peaceful we just couldn't let it stay that way. Someone suggested skinny-dipping. Who it was isn't important. All right! It was me! Are you happy? At least, I think it was me. Things are a little fuzzy ~ martinis. Self-explanatory.

Peanut, FancyPants & I decided to partake. Vinnie {wisely} decided not to. The cabin is on the waterfront, so we thought we'd just climb off the dock & paddle around a bit. Ooooh, how daring!

Fancy went in first. Then Peanut followed. Disaster struck, as it often does when Peanut & I & martinis get together. I don't want to say we're accident-prone but...

As Peanut was sliding into the water, he sliced his leg on an exposed nail head {rusty, naturally} on the side of the dock. Pandemonium ensued. We all ran around frantically wondering what to do.

Luckily, there were first-aid supplies in the cabin, & the patient was tended to & given a martini to ward off shock.

Man, did he get one helluva scar.

Diary of a TMJ Sufferer Part 1

Where do I begin? To tell the story of how painful life can be? The bittersweet story of a young lass named me?

Ok, enough of the sappy love song parody.

Our story begins with our young heroine {moi} age 12ish. Maybe 14ish. I started to notice some odd clicking & clacking & rattling going on in my jaw. It became more noticeable while chewing. This was not conducive to my lifestyle as I was sneaking smokes at the time & chewing a lot of gum to mask the smell from my non-smoking parents. Cuz we all know that works, right? Sure it does.

Things started to get worse. Pain started. Sometimes my jaw would lock up & I’d have a bitch of a time getting it going again. My parents asked the dentist. We were told to see an orthodontist. Thus began a 21 year journey into madness that continues to this day.

Age 16 ~ My consult with the orthodontist went well. He was extremely confident that he knew exactly what was going on & how to fix it. He spent a lot of time grabbing my chin & reefing my jaw around until it “fit right”, or some other techno-babble that I just couldn't comprehend.

His diagnosis ~ braces. Absolutely, no question. His reasoning? My teeth had grown in on a slant…they appeared straight in relation to each other, but grew in at an angle. Does that make sense? Maybe. It sounded plausible at the time. Frankly boys & girls, we were grasping at straws. The noise & pain were getting worse & this man said he could help so we believed him.

3 years of braces. 3 years of trying not to smile open-lipped during photos. 3 years of sore teeth, sore jaw, sore head. 3 years of living off chicken broth, pancakes & bananas for 2 weeks a month. I was so skinny!

3 years & 2 teeth extracted later, the braces came off. I was already in university. I was ecstatic. My teeth really didn’t look any different ~ as I said, they were always straight ~ but I was hopeful that things would be better.

They weren’t.

Diary of a TMJ Sufferer Part 2

The clicking, clacking & pain started up again. I was pissed. After all the torture & pain of braces, the MONEY that my parents spent, the monthly trips to Stoon, the horror of having to go through graduation with braces {I know, I know, I was a shallow, shallow girl} the crap came back.

I questioned my doctor. I displayed the cacophony of noises & movement for him. He recommended I speak to my dentist.

My dentist diagnosed me with TMJ Syndrome. Temporomandibular joint (TMJ) syndrome or TMJ joint disorders are medical problems related to the jaw joint. The TMJ connects the lower jaw to the skull (temporal bone) under your ear. Certain facial muscles control chewing. Problems in this area can cause head and neck pain, a jaw that is locked in position or difficult to open, problems biting, and popping sounds when you bite. Well, that sure sounds like me!

He told me this condition was exacerbated by clenching or grinding your teeth at night. As it turns out, I’m a clencher. I clench during the day. I clench during the night. I clench all the time. It takes all my will-power & self-awareness to constantly relax my jaw. His treatment? Outfitting me with a soft night guard or “splint” to wear that would absorb the pressure of the clenching & take the pressure of my TMJ joint.

This worked wonders. For a while. For at least a couple years.

Then we went to Mexico.

Diary of a TMJ Sufferer Part 3

Mexico! Glorious Mexico! San Jose del Cabo, a smaller, sleepier, more traditional town close to the more touristy, more Americanized Cabo San Lucas on the tip of the Baja peninsula. 1000 miles south of Los Angeles. Beautiful, fabulous, can’t say enough about this part of Mexico.

I am now 25. I go on a two-week holiday with Puffy & Pippy. It was a grand ol’ time. The boys & I were sent down courtesy of their bosses at the time, free ‘n’ clear, for doing such an amazing amount of work for the company. They graciously included me in the deal.

We may have drank a lot, & ate a lot, & made some friends & had a great time. Until the morning of the day we were to leave.

We woke around 9ish. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was a Disney movie kind of day. I yawned. My jaw dislocated. I managed to put it back in. We chuckled.

I yawned again. It dislocated again. This time, I was unable to correct it immediately, which put me into a panic which tightened the muscles which caused more panic which made me unable to fix it. I started crying. I started wailing. There would have been gnashing of teeth, but, well, my jaw was frozen open 2 inches wide so that was not a possibility.

Puffy panicked. “What do I do? What do I do?” he screamed as he ran around the room waving his arms in the air like Kermit introducing the guest star. I started writing on a pad ~ yes, also unable to talk. I sent him down to the front desk to see if they had a doctor they could call. He bustled down there, & they contacted a doctor that was on call for all the resorts.

On his frantic trip back to the room, he passed some people we knew hanging by the pool. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” they asked. “Wilma dislocated her jaw & it won’t go back in!” he yelled, running by. Two of the ladies popped up immediately. “Can we help?” Up to the room they came.

One lady had worked as an ER nurse for 25 years; the other was a dental assistant in a practice that specialized in TMJ treatment. Their help was most welcome, as Puffy was unable to concentrate on anything, & took to pacing the room like an expectant father. They finally sent him out to watch for the doctor.

The doctor arrived within ½ hour. A pleasant surprise, he could speak fluent English, & was aware of the problems that come with TMJ syndrome. He wanted to take me to the hospital & put me out in the emergency room. I write on the paper “Plane today! No way! Fix now!” while underlining it emphatically. After trying unsuccessfully to change my mind, he shrugged & opened his bag.

Can I just say how much I lurve prescription medication? Am I allowed to admit that I would be a total addict & probably die on the toilet of an OD like Elvis cuz I lurve me the drugs? This doctor mixed up a magical cocktail containing Demerol & some kinda enchanted Mexican yummy liquid & gave me a manual IV right there in the hotel room. It took effect almost immediately.

Then, while I was floating on a cloud of daisies, the one lady grabbed my head to stabilize it while he manipulated my jaw back into place. It took a couple tries, but he did well. Well, from what I remember looking down on the scene from my perch on a palm tree outside the window, it looked like he knew what he was doing.

He advised me to put my splint in & keep it in for the next few days. Crisis averted, no ER trip in Mexico for me {whew!} the hotel staff kindly allowed me to stay in the room & sleep until it was time for us to head to the airport. I have a photo of me right before we took the shuttle, looking very blurry. I slept the whole way home.

Diary of a TMJ Sufferer Part 4

I made an appointment with my doctor to discuss the fun events of my Mexico trip. He was suitably concerned with the whole business & made an appointment for me to see an oral surgeon. I mistakenly thought his name was Dr. Bone, which was very apropos I thought. But, it wasn’t his name.

My visits with him were very informative. He was the most involved doctor I’ve ever been to. I had a thorough exam ~ what my breasts have to do with my TMJ I’m not really sure, but he’s the doctor! ~ & he scheduled me for x-rays & an MRI.

The MRI is a story in itself. Suffice it to say that, as a claustrophobe, it was not the most pleasant experience I’ve ever been through. In fact, I would rate it slightly lower than 2nd degree burns on my boob, but slightly higher than the time I cut my thumb with a tin can. Did I mention that I’m klutzy?

After all the tests, he decided that there wasn’t enough going on to warrant surgery. He advised me to keep a record of any further dislocations, how severe the pain & knocking was, & we would just wait & see. The tests would be a benchmark, a starting point to compare any other movement to.

He phoned me several times, at home, in the evening, to check on my progress & to see if the symptoms were changing. Have you ever met a doctor who would do that? Ever? Puffy thought he was stalking me a little. Maybe he was. But, come on, if you’re going to have a stalker, isn’t a doctor the way to go?

His last call came 2 years after I had last seen him. Things had plateaued so he said to call him if anything changed for the worse.

I think I've lost his number. Too bad.

Diary of a TMJ Sufferer Part 5

Things went along just tickety-boo, until my splint started degrading. Suddenly, I had a gap between my front teeth. Yes, I was now in the league of David Letterman & Madonna. It was so large that a toothpick would fit in there.

I went to my dentist for a new splint. He gave me a hard one, {splint, boys & girls, a hard splint. Minds out of the gutter, now}, which required soaking in hot water before using. I hated it. I used to spit it out in the middle of the night. I’d find it on my pillow, on the floor, sometimes not for days. It was so uncomfortable. This was not working.

I gave up on the splint. I stopped using it at all. I asked for another one. It still wasn’t as good as the first, but I lived with it.

I gave up on my dentist. I started going to another one. Time passed.

The headaches started & wouldn’t leave. The muscles in my jaw, face, neck & upper back were tense all the time. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I’d been lifting weights with my face.

I’m now 35. I talked to my dentist about what’s happening, how it feels like my teeth don’t fit together properly. I’m constantly moving my jaw around while eating trying to find the right spot. What can we do? Do I need braces again? Hot damn, that was the best diet I was ever on. I hoped for the braces.

I was in luck, they had just started doing a new procedure to relax the muscles, fit patients with orthotics (neuromuscular mouth appliances) that correct their bite & make everything happy, happy, joy, joy. “Sign me up!” I said.

They hooked me up to an electric pulse machine with electrodes on my jaw joints, forehead, back of my neck, under my chin, & left to relax for ½ hour while the machine works at calming the muscles. A trendy wire basket is then placed on my head which is hooked up to a computer. I am instructed to move my jaw in all sorts of wonderful ways & the computer records the movement, along with measuring the stress on the muscles. My orthotic is then adjusted accordingly.

So, that’s where I’m at. The appliance is filling in the gap where my teeth have worn away from all the clenching. Now we’re considering more permanent options to the removable orthotic, mainly building up my teeth with veneers to fill the gap & correct the bite.

Sometimes I feel like it will never be over. Sometimes I feel like giving up. Sometimes I have a good day. The last while, I haven’t experienced many good days. There's tension, & pain, & slight dislocations again.

But I’m keeping the faith. I’m going to keep going until this is fixed. I’m going to keep at it until I no longer have to worry about dislocations & pain & knocking & tense muscles. I’m going to beat the monster. I’m going to be… hahahaha! I almost wrote I was going to be normal. We all know that will never happen.

Poll #1 Results

Voting was fast & furious this past week. Blogger actually called to tell me that the poll was overloading their circuits & could I limit the amount of people that were voting. I said, "No way, Jose! Stop trying to bring me down, man!"

The final results are in, & it's a tie! Yes, thank you all so very, very much for making me write two stories instead of one. Sincerely. Thank you. Cuz I don't have enough to do right now.

Anyhoo, here's the final tally:

My Pet Sparky ~ 1 vote (7%)
Skinny Dipping At The Lake ~ 5 votes (38%)
Malibu Rum ~ Ugh! ~ 2 votes (15%)
Diary Of A TMJ Sufferer ~ 5 votes (38%)

So, to all the masses of boys & girls out there, thanks for the votes! The stories shall appear this week {hopefully}. New poll coming soon!