What a day. It’s going on noon and I’m still trying to get this issue out. It’s a big one, and with today’s Last Word, a difficult one to finish up. I’m sorry that it is late, but I hope it is well worth the wait.
Lethal compared our vehicles yesterday and, with the use of a couple of pictures….I’d like to show you our two wheeled transportation….
‘Nuff said. Now, let’s get on with the laughter!
What is a calorie?
Calories are the little bastards that get into your wardrobe at
night and sew your clothes tighter…
MY CLOSET IS INFESTED WITH THE LITTLE SHITS.
Bill and his wife Susan went to the state fair every year, and every year Bill would say, “Susan, I’d like to ride in that helicopter.”
Susan always replied, “I know, Bill, but that helicopter ride is fifty bucks,
And fifty bucks is fifty bucks!”
One year Bill and Susan went to the fair, and Bill said, “Susan, I’m 75 years old. If I don’t ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance.”
To this, Susan replied, “Bill that helicopter ride is fifty bucks, and fifty bucks is fifty bucks.”
The pilot overheard the couple and said, “Folks I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and don’t say a word I won’t charge you a penny! But if you say one word it’s fifty dollars.”
Bill and Susan agreed and up they went.
The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard.
He did his daredevil tricks, but still not a word…
When they landed, the pilot turned to Bill and said, “By golly , I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didn’t. I’m impressed! “
Bill replied, “Well, to tell you the truth I almost said something when Susan fell out, but you know, Fifty bucks is fifty bucks!”
Here’s another one from Sue….what’re you tryin’ to say, Sue?
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
I don’t want to brag or make anyone envious or anything, but I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.
Can you believe it?
Q: What lies on the ground, 100 feet in the air?
A: A dead centipede.
Q: Did you hear the story about the peacock?
A: It’s a beautiful tail!
Q: Why didn’t the banana snore?
A: He didn’t want to wake up the rest of the bunch.
A young fashion designer was attending her first runway presentation in which her dresses were featured. The reviews from the industry were fantastic. Overnight, her line became a best seller. Stores couldn’t keep the items on the shelves. Celebrities started wearing them. She became so successful that a competitor was inspired to produce cheap copies of her designs to make a quick buck.
Furious about this, the designer called her lawyer and explained what was happening. The lawyer was equally furious, but he knew he could handle the situation.
“Don’t worry,” he assured the designer. “I’ll take care of him.”
“What will you do?” she asked him.
Replied the lawyer, “I’ll block his knock-off!”
After experiencing the discomfort and embarrassment of a prostate test on the
National Health Service, a guy decided to have his next test carried out while
visiting in San Francisco where the beautiful nurses are more gentle and
He lay naked on his side on the table, and the nurse began the examination.
“Don’t worry, at this stage of the procedure it’s quite normal to get an erection,
” said the nurse.
“I haven’t got an erection,” said the man.
“No, but I have.” replied the nurse.
Moral: Don’t have this procedure done in San Francisco!
Signs of the times…..or …. Did I read that right?
Here it is. With a sign and everything and yet statistics show that only 33% of women ever find it.
For the life of me, I can’t imagine where in the world this sign must’ve been posted and why…
Hmm, doesn’t really sound appealing at all. Though maybe that’s the Colonel’s secret recipe.
I know lots of work places where this sign would be appropriate, too.
Why didn’t they have that when I was in school!
Here’s a great “I told you so” moment. Remember the other day in my Last Word when I got the IRS email? Well, today, in my weekly snopes email, there was this: Phishing Alert: E-mailed notice claims the IRS is unable to process the recipient’s tax return. (hint: click on the underlined IRS to take you to the page)
Our dear friend and fellow camper Lynn sent me a video clip of Liz Taylor on the old TV show “What’s My Line” and when I tried to imbed it here, it just didn’t work out, but man, are those things addictive! I sat here for over an hour (so if DL is late today, it’s Lynn’s fault) and found this one that just cracked me up. I encourage you, if you have some time to kill (after reading DL of course) that you go through youtube and watch some of these old “What’s My Line” shows. In the meantime, here’s one of my all time favorite ladies in the whole world…..
Okay, this thing is freaky accurate!
If you haven’t seen this guy before, he’s well worth watching. To see him live, you have to fly Southwest…
And here’s his interview
Okay folks, one of my favorite websites of all time has come up with a list of the 107 best websites on the web….Here is Makeuseof.com’s list: http://www.makeuseof.com/pages/best-websites#top This thing is well worth bookmarking a saving.
So, our last piece today before the Last Word is one, as someone living in rural America, that scares the hell out of me. What do you think?
President Obama Executive Order 13575 Rural Councils
On June 9, 2011, President Obama issued a sweeping executive order for a White House Rural Council that purports to exert broad municpal powers over the food, fiber, and energy production of Rural American. Where’s the Line, America to how much power the president can amass by executive order?
As many of you know, Breast Cancer Awareness is a particular “hot-button” for me. I’m not sure why really…I’ve only known one dear friend with breast cancer and although it was rough and scary, she’s fine. I guess I just think that it’s a horribly unfair and ugly disease. And of all the cancers it is second only to lung cancer in taking women’s lives.
I had no idea how close this particular disease would touch my own life, but it did so, in a strange and unusual way just this Thursday past.
Breast cancer is the most common cancer among American women, except for skin cancers. The chance of developing invasive breast cancer at some time in a woman’s life is a little less than 1 in 8 (12%).
Conversely, breast cancer is about 100 times less common among men than among women. For men, the lifetime risk of getting breast cancer is about 1 in 1,000 (0.1%). The number of breast cancer cases in men relative to the population has been fairly stable over the last 30 years. But on Thursday, I was pretty sure I had rolled craps three times in a row with the dice.
A month or so ago I had a sore spot on the right side of my chest and when I pushed on it, there was a lump under the skin. Now, I’ve had lumps under my skin before and the very worst one ended up being a lymph node that had come loose and slid down my arm to my triceps area and had to be surgically removed. No big deal and I was fairly convinced that this was not going to be any different.
Strangely, Mrs. Dragon had just had her first ever mammogram, after dragging her feet for several years, and we had just had a tiny scare with a dark spot on her film that turned out to be nothing. And maybe that was in the back of my mind when I found this lump, about the size of a pea, under my skin.
Now, I say it was on the right side of my chest because men don’t say breast because men don’t have breasts, women do. But, in all honesty, we DO have breasts, granted significantly different (and nowhere near as appealing) as women’s but breasts just the same. So, this lump was on the outside of my right breast about 3 inches past my nipple. When I was last at the doctor, Mrs. Dragon brought it up and the doctor (female) performed a breast exam on me and easily found the lump.
I’ve been in the doctor’s office before while the doctor has performed a breast exam on my wife and although I found it ever so slightly juvenilely titillating (if you’ll pardon the pun) to watch, when you become one of the participants, there ain’t a damn thing exciting about it at all. In fact, when I saw that look of concern slide across her eyes when she found the lump, even though she tried to hide it real fast, it scared the ever-living-hell out of me!
So she says it’s probably nothing, but let’s get an ultrasound just to be sure.
Doing some research, I find that about 2,140 new cases of invasive breast cancer will be diagnosed among men in 2011. And of those diagnosed 450 MEN will die from breast cancer this year. More than 1 in 5 men diagnosed die.
Yeah, but the odds are still WAY in my favor that it is nothing.
Now, we’re up to Thursday and I go through the ultrasound and I can hear the lady doing all kinds of clicking and moving of this computer and although she’s nice enough, she tells me that she can’t tell me anything about what she sees and I’ll have to wait for the doctor to take a look. Great, I’m thinking. More waiting.
“If you’ll wait right here, I’ll go show these to the doctor and get right back to you.” she says. “Try and relax.” And there’s that damn look of concern in her eyes and something new…sadness?
Those odds are looking worse and worse the whole time.
The doctor comes in and says, “Show me this lump.” And as his fingers slide across the skin, I can tell that he’s done this more than once, but I’m not sure it’s ever been on a man before. He then takes the ultrasound wand and slides it around and looks and with a lot of hmmms and hummms he finally turns to me and says, “There’s something there, but we’re not getting a good look at it with the ultrasound. I’m going to send you over for a mammogram (WHAT!!!!) and we’ll figure out what it is and whatever the result,” and here he puts his hand on my shoulder, “we’ll work it out together and decide what is the best path to take.”
Let me tell you what. I climbed on that table a great big strong and confident man and climbed off a scared little boy. I meekly followed the technician over to the Women’s Wellness Clinic and she asked me to sit in the waiting room. Thank Goodness it was late in the afternoon and there was no one else there. I’m not sure I could’ve taken it if I had to sit down in a room full of women. At least if my wife was there I could’ve pretended we were there because of her.
I was still thinking of those odds and the fact that no one had come out and said that I had cancer or even that I had anything to worry about and I clung to that thought like a drowning man clings to a board in the middle of the ocean. When the next technician came in and called my name I bet I jumped 3 feet into the air.
She took me in this room with this really odd looking device and asked me to take my shirt off. While I’m doing that she takes this sticky paper with little pink bows and butterflies on it and puts it on the bottom tray of the machine.
“Pink?” I said. “Nothing in blue?”
She smiled and said sorry, but I couldn’t care less if she thought it was funny, I was trying to make myself relax by cracking lame jokes. She wants to know where the spot is and puts this little sticky ball bearing on the spot, “So it will show up on the x-rays.” She says.
She positions me on the machine and I have to tell you, I feel like I’m just a puny little thing because of how incredibly humbling this experience is. She moves the paddles down and scrunches the fatty part of my right chest (breast) and I thought, that’s not so bad.
But she was just getting me in position, she steps on this peddle and the upper paddle comes down and crushes my breast in between the jaws of death!
“Don’t breathe!” she says.
Breathe, hell! I’m trying not to scream.
Okay, so I’m exaggerating quite a bit here. It wasn’t really painful, what it was, was humiliating and, thinking about it, I really didn’t know why. She took a total of 3 pictures, one of which was of my left breast for comparison. Then she told me to wait why she went to show the pictures to the doctor.
During the seemingly 3 hours that I waited for the doctor, which I’m sure was more like 10 minutes, I did a lot of thinking. I had a brand new appreciation of what women went through and how they must feel while they sit there and wait for the results of this test. It’s humiliating because a part of your body, that, for women at least, is supposed to be sexy and, at it’s core, a thing of nourishment for a new born baby is treated as a chunk of meat as it’s mauled and squished looking for an evil that might turn around and kill you. Everybody I dealt with was professional and caring and just as nice as can be.
But to give you an idea, one of the questions was, “Do you have a history of breast or ovarian cancer?”
As a guy, have someone ask you that question with an absolute straight face and see if it doesn’t throw you for a loop.
The technician came back in the room and held the door open and said, “Everything’s fine, you can go. Doctor says it’s nothing, but keep an eye on it and if it changes shape or anything to tell your doctor.”
And that was it. I won’t say that I jumped for joy or felt like I had a huge weight lifted off my shoulders or anything because I didn’t. I felt more like the guy who steps off the curb without really looking and has a taxi come to a screeching halt, inches away from you with the horn blaring.
Scared still, but relieved.
I’ve always had the greatest respect for women and the things that they have to go through because of their bodies, everything from monthly periods and having babies to indoor plumbing and mammograms.
I salute you ladies and respect your bravery for having to go through something so scary every couple of years. Bless you. But do it! Make sure you have the checks, when you should. Check yourself. Have your mate check you. Don’t let the bastard breast cancer win. I feel honored to have visited your world for just a short time.