Don't Mind if I Do

So today, I'm back out on the road visiting some pools that have some issues that really required the master's touch (too many jokes could be made...I'll leave it to you). So it's mid-day when Kev and I make our way to this one pool in DC that apparently has been losing water this year. We had done a complete retiling and replastering of this pool, so we wanted to make sure that none of the new work created this water loss, thus giving the pool the final approval that the construction work was satisfactorily completed.

Since I don't regularly go out on the road, even less now with the jaw issue, I'm ill prepared for what would be needed for this particular job...swimming. Yes, at my job, swimming is part of the job description...read it and weep. But wait, there's more.

So, luckily Kevin is prepared for this scenario and switches into his swimsuit to begin dye testing the pool returns and suction ports for any leak. Last I remember of Kevin swimming, he was two years old and in an inner tube, so I don't ever recall if he learned to swim. Apparently, he did, but really only passed the remedial "swim enough so you don't drown" stage. As you can imagine, this makes diving to the bottom of a deep end and unscrewing a drain cover a bit of an ordeal.

Now I'm not really complaining, because while he's swimming, I'm sitting in a lounge chair making sure he comes up routinely and doesn't drown. Yes, at my job, I spent several minutes sitting pool side in a lounge chair...read it and weep. But wait, there's more.

So, you would think I'd be content with my lounging, but frankly we had a bunch of other jobs to get to, and Kevin wasn't feeling well to begin with, so that's making things even worse for him. An executive decision needed to be made, and I was not afraid to make the bold call.

"Kev, get out of the water. I'll handle it from here."

Yep, I'm gonna jump into this guy's pool in mid-day, in plain view of two of his neighbors and possibly his wife inside...in my underwear. So I strip down to my drawers...thankfully they were black or Kevin and any other unfortunate souls would have had to gaze upon my bulge and my nugget pouch...and in I jumped. After swimming around this guy's pool for about 20 minutes taking care of business, I jumped out of the pool, and toweled myself off as I stood in his backyard in my underwear. Yes, at my job, I stand in my client's backyard in my underwear...read it and weep.

It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. Now if only I could find a way to play Madden while waiting for a pool to drain?!!

Lunch Hour

The wires are off. The time had come. I had waited 52 days, and today I was finally able to eat at a restaurant again. And not just any restaurant, a restaurant I had never dined at before. You see, as I mentioned in the last post, I still can't eat anything that requires me to chew. And as I've mentioned in several posts before, my love (bordering on obsession) of Chinese food has always presented me with some sort of food option I can work with. So after ordering Ma Po Tofu delivery as my first real meal last night, eaten in the privacy of my own home to ensure that I could actually eat again, my tongue enjoyed the privelage of solid foods once again. And now I know what I that solid food is...tofu.

It's like meat, but soft enough that it will just smoosh in my rehabilitating jaw with little effort. Lathered in a tasty sauce, it will pass as the greatest food in the world...since my options are slim. So, today, when I am confronted with the possibility of eating out at a restaurant again, my mind immediately turned to tofu. And where do they sell tofu exactly?

Well, how about at the place in Rockville that I have driven by before that has a bunch of Chinese (Korean??) letters and then the words Tofu House. I mean, there's really no doubting that a place like that has tofu. But I've never been there before and it's in the middle of an industrial area, and it looks kind of shady. Should I really go there?

And that's when you realize that your standards for food drop dramatically when you are starving and have little options to choose from. So, I turn to my mother at work, and make the bold call. "We're going to the Tofu House."

As we arrive at the Tofu House, we are both very skeptical. In passing the place in the past, I really hadn't taken a strong look at the establishment, but now as I parked my car in the lot, I realized how many Chinese (Korean???) letters there were all over the place. And then we noticed a family of Asian people walk in. And then we followed them up the stairs, past the three newspaper vending machines. But these weren't the Washington Post and USA Today, these were written in the same Chinese (Korean????) letters.

And then we walk in the door. If a juke box had been playing, I swear it would have stopped. All eyes turned towards us as we entered the building. The wait staff is rattled but a girl comes up to us and waves two fingers, and I nod that there are, in fact, two of us as she takes us to a seat. The place is very nice, with a traditional Asian feel with the rich wood in grids all over the walls. We are seated and then the girl walks away.

The silent looks that my mother and I are giving each other confirms that I'm not the only one who noticed that we're the only ones in the place that don't look like Jackie Chan. And why didn't the hostess give us a menu? Oh, that's because there's a piece of paper in a plastic stand on the table with Chinese (Korean?????) letters on it. Thankfully, there's also English subtitles below the letters, stating the main ingredients.

I immediately see Beef, Pork, Tofu, Soup under one of the lines, and decide it's best I not bother looking for much else...though there's only 12 things on the list to begin with. The waitress returns and sets two glasses on the table full of a clear liquid with a slightly brown tint. Holy Crap, where the fuck did I make us come...the water is brown!!!

The girl asks us if we're ready to order and as my mother starts to stumble from the daze, I quickly chime in that I want the Beef and Pork Tofu Soup. Apparently, that was too many English words, because what I got back was, 'You say number." I'm so rattled by everything, I've completely forgotten that my jaw was ever broken as I grab the menu from my mother and see that I want the #7.

She turns to my mother, and suggests she get #10 or #11. Apparently, these are the items for the non-Jackie Chans: ribs or sliced steak. She goes with the steak, and we both order Coke, because I know I ain't drinking that brown water. I give it a smell, just to see, and the waitress informs me that it is corn and barley iced tea. Uh, yeah. Could have just as easily been dirty water, because that's what it tasted like. Glad I ordered that Coke.

A few minutes later the girl returns with our Cokes along with four plates of different vegetable looking things, a bowl of an orange liquid with what looks like cabbage in it, and a clay bowl of rice. There at the table, she spoons two helpings of rice from the clay bowl into metal bowls and places them next to both of us. She then pours some sort of liquid into the clay bowl over the remaining rice and places it on the table as well. What the hell just happened? What is all this stuff? Are we supposed to eat it? We begin doing what any other confused white American would do in this situation, we looked to see what the other people were doing. I think they're eating it, but I'm not sure what to make of the liquid in the rice bowl.

Before we can make an awkward move towards any of the dishes, the waitress returns again, this time with a bowl of Tofu soup with pork and beef, and sliced steak on a plate with sesame seeds on it. Sweet!!! I know what this is. And then she throws me a curve ball.

She places a raw egg on a plate on the table. She is obviously aware that I have no idea what this is for and I even read that a raw egg comes with the Tofu soups (I guess I did read a little more on the menu after all), so she gives me the run down. You put egg in soup.

Put a raw egg in my soup???!!!! Uh, no thanks. Apparently facial expressions are not the universal language because my disgusted face does not get through to her, as she apparently thinks I just didn't understand her. She motions towards the egg and makes a move to bring it towards me, as I give her the undeniable head and hand shake off. No she's got it. Hope I didn't offend her.

And then I turn towards my soup. Despite all of the awkwardness and confusion that has preceded this moment, I am completely at ease and in a zen moment as the broth hits my tongue. Dear Lord, how I have missed eating real food. And this shit was awesome. I mean, really awesome. I couldn't have asked for a better, more easily consumed first meal out, as I surprisingly finished the entire bowl as well as dabbled at a few of the smaller vegetable items, which I could swallow whole.

I could not explain my situation to the waitress (that would have been a nightmare) but she had just filled a young man's dream of eating normal food again. I can't even explain the amount of joy that I received upon completing that meal. Food has always been one of my passions (I even close my eyes sometimes when I eat a great steak or sushi piece to savor the taste) and to have been without it so long makes this meal that much more intense.

And thus my obsession has been strengthened. The Chinese have come through once again. Providing me with a meal when others could not have provided it. God bless the Chinese...or were these Koreans??????

A New Face in the Mirror

Seven weeks, three days, and 19 hours after my jaw was cracked in half, I am once again able to open my mouth. As I entered the doctor's office this afternoon, I knew there was a possibility of him removing the wires that bound my jaw together. I had been thinking about it since my last visit two weeks ago, when he suggested he would do it if the X-rays showed the bone had healed.

So, there I am, sitting in the patient's chair after my X-ray, when he says it. "I'm going to take the wires off now." I was thrilled, but at the same time frightened. Though I want to eat food, speak properly, and return to normal, I am afraid of what I might see when he removes the wires.

The last I saw my teeth, they were split at the gum, pointing in two different directions and barely visible through all the swelling. Now, the bone has healed, they are repositioned, but are they back to normal. Over the last two weeks, I have been exploring my jaw with my tongue, losing myself in thoughts of crooked teeth, an offset jaw, or the possibility that the only reason my teeth were still even in my mouth is because my mouth is wired too tight to allow them to fall out. These thoughts haunted my dreams each night, and the joyous occassion of being able to move my jaw again was slowly fading as the fears of what is to come overwhelm me.

And then he began to cut the wires. In a matter of seconds, they have been removed and he is asking me to try to open my mouth. This seems like a simple task, but when you haven't asked your jaw muscles to do anything for almost two months, they aren't very repsonsive. With his aid, I slowly opened my jaw. A dull pain ran across my temples as my jaw opened about 3/4" of an inch. The doctor didn't want me to open it much further, and quite frankly I don't think I could have. And then I began trying to move it on my own. Something didn't feel right. Something still doesn't feel right. My mouth doesn't feel like it's my own. It's like a piece of machinery attached to my body. It is not a part of me.

It doesn't close the way it used to. My teeth don't meet in the same way they used to. And the roof of my mouth feels like it is falling off like burning wax, melting over the backs of my teeth, only to be pushed up by my panicked tongue. I'm overwhelmed with thoughts and anxiety as I leave the office, instructed that I still can not chew anything and must limit my diet to extremely soft foods or anything that does not require chewing for the next two weeks.

I get into my car and gaze into the rearview mirror, the first time I have had a chance to see my new look. Tears well up in my eyes as I see a reflection that is not my own. You take for granted what you look like each day, knowing that when you look in the mirror, you will look back. You come to expect the person on the other side. Little will change, with the exception of the occassional new blemish or wrinkle.

I began to get dizzy, but pulled myself together and tried to remind myself that I am alive, able to move my mouth, and in the process of rebuilding myself, not completed. I called my mother on my cell. phone, letting her know that my mouth has been unwired and that I am trying to maintain composure and consciousness as I drive myself home. I don't feel like going back to work. I need some time to digest all of this.

Am I a hideous monster? Disfigured like a Frankenstein? No. For those that have seen me over the past few weeks, I am moderately the same, with the exception of the new long hair and 164 pound (yep, lost a few more) frame. But my jaw has changed. My teeth almost look too perfect, oddly positioned along my jaw line like a Howdy Doody doll, moving up and down at a nearly vertical motion as opposed to along an axis. And my teeth, those that were pointing down and out after the accident are chipped and slightly out of alignment, still partially hidden behind the metal bracing that the doctor left in place for the remainder of this rehabilitation.

Am I happy? I guess. I can speak again, and I just ate soup for the first time in two months without having to put it in a blender first. But I am also terrified of the new face that I see in the mirror. It is not me. It does not feel like me. It does not feel like a part of me. Please god, say that time will make it feel and look like a part of me again.

Shocking

So this afternoon, I'm replacing a non-functional time clock at work, and I am throwing a voltage test on some wires to see where the problem is. Both my hands are on the fully insulated volt meter leads and yet as I go to take my second test, I feel a tingle in my left finger and a jolt IN MY MOUTH!!!

Yep, not sure how, but my mouth is a massive conductor thanks to all this metal, and I get a full on shock across my entire jaw line. Needless to say, this hurt like hell, and still has my jaw throbbing a bit now, almost 3 hours later.

Then I'm all bitter from getting shocked so I throw the volt meter down, and turn away from the time clock, only to smack my shin on a gas line regulator (a hard metal thing). My brother was amused, but I'm just wondering how much more pain I can inflict on myself before I just stop wanting to get out of bed each day. Yeah, Friday!

A History of Violence

I may only be one week away from having my jaw unwired, so that I may once again enjoy food in a form other than completely liquid. And already I'm thinking about the possibilities of returning to the source of my injury...playing football. You see, my annual outdoor football league is set to begin on September 10, and having played in that league for the last 7 years, it just wouldn't seem right to not begin a September or October Sunday with a trip to the local field for football.

But, J-Man, you got your jaw broken playing football and have been miserable for the past 6 weeks as a result. Do you really want to risk going through all that again? The simple answer...Yes. You see, many people have weaknesses in their lives...things they love and can't seem to do without...and mine is playing recreational football. I've been playing a variety of touch, flag and tackle football since I was probably 10 years old and I never seem to get tired of it.

There's something wonderful and fulfilling about making an interception, or catching a touchdown amongst several defenders, or taking down an opposing quarterback to win your team the game. It's a time when I can line up on the same field with complete strangers, and we can all forget our jobs, our mortgages, our kids (well, not me) and our stresses, and focus on one common goal...getting into the endzone.

Is playing risking another injury? Yes, but so is living everyday, driving a car, drinking a beer with buddies, or even just walking up and down the stairs of your house. Hell, I've been injured numerous times in my life, doing all sorts of things, but I just move on from the regular cuts, bruises, finger jams, and injuries such as these:

4th Grade: My older brother tied my sweatshirt sleeves together behind my back and tripped me, cutting my chin open to the bone, requiring me to get 20 stitches.

6th Grade: My younger brother pushed a clothing rack in a store off of a ledge onto my head, cutting my forehead open. The amount of blood that covered my face made it seem much worse than it actually was.

7th Grade: An inside pitch in a baseball game hits me in my left knee, knocking my knee cap out of place, and chipping a corner of it. My favorite part of this moment is my older brother, and several other players on the team, telling me to "walk it off."

12th Grade: In an outdoor football game, my buddy Tim spears me while trying to take down a pile of players, giving me a concussion and a life threatening, baseball-sized bruise on my right temple. Despite the injury, and the fact that I couldn't see clearly for about 45 minutes, I drove myself home and even went to work that night. It was only the next day when I realized how bad things were and the doctor wasn't happy I waited so long.

Sophomore Year in College: After a Spring Break night of drinking, I badly sprain my right knee slipping on a hill on a rainy night. You would think I would have mastered the art of walking by this point in my life.

Junior Year in College: While throwing beer bottles at a 'sorority' adjacent to my fraternity, I pass out mid-throw and come to with a faucet of blood pouring from my nose. A drunken trip to the emergency room is always fun, but when B-Man (who came with me) knocked over some sort of gas container and it started hissing, we were definitely made to feel unwanted. I still have a hole cut in the cartiledge between my nostrils to this day.

2001: While I attempted to steal the ball in basketball, the opposing player slashed his arms around, bending my right thumb back to my wrist. Six weeks of physical therapy and a cortizone shot later, and I'm good as new. Honestly, the cortizone shot was really the difference maker...that is some amazing shit.

2004: An opponent in a football game dives to prevent me from catching a ball, only to land with his shoulder on the outside of my right knee, twisting it in until it slammed into the back wall of the endzone. A partially torn MCL, a month of wearing a metal knee brace, and two visits to a physical therapist and I'm running again.

June 30, 2006: Everything goes black after I dive for an onside kick recovery, and here we are 6 weeks later with my jaw wired shut.


Injuries are part of life, and I'm not giving up one of my favorite things without a fight.

Return of the Redskins

Last night was the first preseason game for the Redskins and although the outcome of the game was pitiful at best, I'm still excited for the start of the new season. For the first game of the year, Brunell looked relatively (loose term) sharp, with the exception of his interception, which may have been a mix-up by Brandon Lloyd, something that will hopefully be ironed out by the regular season. Lloyd's catch earlier in the drive was definitely the high point of the game, and I think he's going to end up being a very solid #2 wide receiver this year.

The starting defense was also stifling, with the Bengals first posession dropping them back 16 yards in three plays before punting the ball. Having the defensive tackles healthy this year could lead to a huge increase in the pass rush, which will hopefully turn into some turnovers...something they were really lacking last year. However, Carson Palmer was sitting on the bench for this game, so we can't

The biggest downside to the game was obviously the injury to Clinton Portis. The takedown on that DB was pretty damned cool looking, but I wish he hadn't separated his shoulder giving that guy the 'Rock Bottom'. I would hope Gibbs takes this as a warning to just let him rest for the next few weeks, if he's even capable of playing. I like Ladell Betts, and I think he'll be able to fit in nicely if Portis isn't ready to go, but we're definitely not the same team with him in there. So, overall a so-so start to the game.

And then the second team came in. I really hope that this is a product of scrubs versus scrubs, because we just looked confused and horrible. The second team O-line was getting worked over and Todd Collins looked like he wanted to reinact the scene from Unnecessary Roughness and run behind the ref to avoid getting killed. He even resorted to throwing the ball at the D-Linemen to keep them away. What a schmuck!

And the defense didn't look much better. That one DB, Wright, I think his name was...he sucks. I hope he's not our Nickelback, because he's making me wish we kept Walt Harris with the bumbling moves he made yesterday, and nobody benefits from thoughts like that.

But we can always fall back on the Joe Gibbs "Vanilla" defense, and claim we weren't showing anything in the preseason game. That's our story and I'm sticking with it. Nonetheless, the Bengals team just looked more in control throughout most of the game, audibling with ease to the same out patterns for 6-12 yards, while Collins and even Campbell floundered. But I guess this is to be expected when the team is once again instituting a new offensive scheme.

Thankfully, the Skins schedule is pretty easy to start the season, so hopefully they'll have things all together when the tough competition rolls into town. And hell, I'm just happy to see football back on TV again.

A Moment of Reflection

Today I received a comment from someone who located my blog while searching for some sort of help in locating a pool repair online. Needless to say, she/he did not find answers for the problems that they were looking for. What they did find is my rantings about my life and with it some of the not so fine moments I have in dealing with clients. (don't bother looking for the post, I have removed it following their prudent commentary)

From their comments, they were likely offended and would likely not use my company for service at their pool. And they are entitled to their opinion. If they were offended, I apologize. If they don't wish to use my company's pool service, that is their prerogative. I purposely do not use my real name, the name of my company, nor any of our client's names on this blog for that reason.

My intent in writing this blog is not to educate people on pool service nor to attempt to promote my company to enhance business. This can be seen by my relatively scarce postings about pools and when I do post about them, it is not from an educational stand point but rather to express my feelings, as a human being, dealing with my job and my life.

I imagine that everyone has difficult days in their life when they hate their boss or their co-workers or a client of theirs, if they are in that type of business. I choose to share these experiences, along with other experiences, with my friends (the people who this blog is truly intended for...though I have never password protected it) for the humor that is involved in some of my stories, and for them to relate to some of the issues I encounter.

Obviously, some people with swimming pools, perhaps even in my local area, may stumble across this blog. All I can hope is that they look at this blog as a caricature of life, the stories of someone who encounters some of the same life issues they do (work, girlfriend/wife, pet, home maintenance, travels, etc.) and not as a reflection of me as a professional. Because frankly, I don't write blog entries about the clients who love the work that my company does and have been satisfied using us for 10-20 years.

Nonetheless, though you haven't found a pool website, you have found a pool man...so if you're having a problem, write me a comment asking me for my input and I'll gladly provide you with a completely unsolicited answer. I can assure you, I know what I'm talking about. Allow me to "inspire" you.

To avoid future confusion, however, I have changed the tag line under my title to not include anything related to pools and I have removed some of the past posts related to work that I feel may be offensive.

Thank you for your input, it is always appreciated.

The Bad News about Good News

Today I visited my oral surgeon for my routine check-up just to see how everything is progressing. Basically, he doesn't do much except ask me if I feel any pain and checks to see that the wires are still holding my jaw tight. Today makes 5 weeks of having my jaw wired shut and now I'm down to a consistent 168 lbs., down 17 lbs. since the day of the injury.

So he does the routine, feels my jaw to make sure I don't flinch or express any pain and then he drops this wonderful line to me:

Well, why don't you come back in another two weeks, which will be seven weeks, and we'll take an X-ray and make a decision whether we can take these wires off at that point.

Of course, I'm pretty psyched as I was actually hoping he'd take X-rays today and see that I'm "ahead of schedule" and tell me that he'll definitely be taking them off earlier than expected, but I guess I can't be too pushy given my luck lately.

So with the possibility of wire removal in two weeks, I decided to inquire exactly what this entails. And here's where he choked the good news with a hearty helping of bad.

First, we're just going to take of the wires that are holding your top and bottom together. That can be done here in the office and it's painless and pretty quick. But then I'm gonna want to leave the bars that go around your teeth on for another 4-6 weeks until we see how you're doing and whether you're able to eat, etc.

I nearly started crying right there. (Yeah, screw you for judging me) Just when I thought this disaster would be behind me in two, maybe three weeks, here he drops another month to a month and a half on top of this. It makes sense, in case things aren't quite healed, it'll be easier to re-wire my jaw, which would absolutely be the worst thing ever.

I guess I sort of knew I wouldn't be 100% after he took the wires off (people had mentioned re-strengthening my jaw), but I figured at least I'd look normal again. Oh well. At least I may be eating something other than soup in two weeks, so that's a tiny miracle.

Y'all are just gonna have to deal with the new Lil' Jon and Nelly inspired J-Man, and my barbed wire grill in September. YEAH!!!

Thunderstruck

Here we go again. Why does God seem to have it out for me recently? (Well, aside from the years of mocking retards, the handicapped, excessively surfing porn on the internet, and a lack of practicing any sort of organized religion) He obviously does not want me to get a good night's sleep at least. Because, there I am, dead asleep at 3:30 AM last night, when the sound of heavy rain pelting my skylights wakes me up. It's coming down like sheets that echo on my skylights like a tribal drum, beating rapidly, accompanied by the periodic flash of lighting and loud bang of thunder.

This continues for several more minutes, the banging of thunder getting louder and louder, now waking the dog and putting her on alert. And that's when it happens. A flash at my window so bright the whole room lights up even with the blinds drawn, and an immediate bang, like a gunshot, loud enough to shake my bed.

I usually enjoy the sound of rain and thunder, but that's when it isn't accompanied by the sound of my smoke detector going off. YIKES! So, up I jump from bed, anticipating the worst, yet again. Did my house get hit by lightning and something is on fire? Oddly, the smoke detector stops after only a few seconds of operation and the power is still on. Weird? Maybe just a surge...guess I'll have a look around just in case.

So I walk out into the hallway and notice that the light in the spare room is on. The door is shut and I haven't been in there for over a week??? I'm pretty sure I couldn't have left the light on for this long. So, who turned it on? And why is it on now? I open the door to find the light on and no one inside, so I go to flip the switch off. Wait...it is off. I think this is probably creepier as I'm retelling it, much like the TV in Poltergeist, but this light is all about staying on, regardless of whether the switch is on or off. That's definitely not a good sign.

On to the breaker panel, once again. All the rest of the power is on in the house so I'm not too freaked out as I make my way down stairs. The rain and thunder are still echoing through the house, but my real fear now is fire. I'm about halfway down the stairs to the basement when the smell hits my nostrils. Oh crap! If you've never smelled the odor that accompanies an electrical fire, it is very distinct and nothing like that of a grill or campfire. And that's what I'm smelling. At this point, I'm moving considerably faster as I open the breaker box. There's no obvious fire spilling out and aside from the odor, which is more potent by the box, everything seems normal. Well, except for the light that controls itself upstairs.

My immediate thought is to shut off all the breakers for the upstairs so that the light (which is likely the source of some issue) is not continuing to receive a power supply. I flip off about 8 breakers which are all labelled as upstairs components, though none says 'kid's room' or 'spare room' or anything like that...stupid previous owners not labelling shit. I race back upstairs to see if this has shut off the light, but the damned thing is still on! FUCK! Three more trips and a series of shutting off groups of breakers, and I've finally located the right breaker. Thankfully, that has stopped the power supply to the light upstairs. But the smell still persists.

I've gotta get inside that breaker box. I run upstairs to grab a screw driver and quickly undo the screws that are holding the front panel in place. To my surprise, I am not greeted by a roaring fire. Instead, everything seems perfectly fine. Nothing is scorched or smoldering. What the hell?!

I make my way up to the spare room to examine the light switch itself. After undoing the screws, I pull out the switch. Again, no fire, no scorched wires, or any smoldering. Maybe the breaker being shut off stopped the problem? I again head down the two flights of stairs to the basement and am still confronted with the odor of electrical burning. It does not appear to be disappearing. It is pouring rain, but I step outside, hoping (well, in the sense that at least I'd know what's wrong) to see some sort of char or burned area. Nothing.

What do I do? It's 4 AM. Everything in my house, with the exception of the one light, appears to be working fine, except I'm smelling a burning odor in my basement. I debate calling my father for some quick advice, but at 4 AM I don't want to burden him and have my mother up for the next 3 hours worrying that my dog and I are going up in flames. Then I debated calling the Fire Department, but I really don't want to deal with all that hastle at this time of night, when there isn't anything obvious.

So, perhaps it wasn't the smartest move, but I decided going back to bed, having left the breaker off. Of course, I'm not going to sleep unprepared. I packed a bag of clothes that I wanted to wear along with Chloe's stuff and my keys, wallet, etc. and placed the bag by my bed, along with a fire extinguisher and a flash light. And now I lay myself back to sleep, prepared for the worst...a more shocking wakeup to the sound of a smoke detector going off without stopping, and the smell of both electrical and wood fire burning in my house and filling my lungs with smoke.

At 7:00 AM, my alarm (clock) goes off. I'm not on fire, but I am completely exhausted. My eyes are burning, not from smoke, but from lack of sleep. My body is weak from all the commotion I endured, so I call my brother to tell him what happened and that I am gonna come in a bit late today. I'm still alive, so falling back to sleep is much easier this time around.

At 10:00 AM, I wake up again, and decide it is time I get up and go to work. I begin my normal routine and eventually head downstairs to let Chloe out. FUCK! There's still that damned burning smell. It's been six hours! Something is still burning! Now it is not too early to call ol' Pops. After a quick recap of my late night events, we concur that the best step is to contact an electrician to check into this matter. He places the call, and they suggest we call the fire department as well.

And that is where my last two hours have been spent. First the fire department came and three firemen checked the breaker panel, the light switch and my attic, and concluded the same things I did. Nothing obvious...maybe it's the breaker that smells...wait for the electrician.

And then the electrician arrived. He went to the breaker box and turned to me to say, "the smell isn't coming from here." Is this good news or bad news? He suggested I check to make sure the washer and dryer were still working...check. Then he suggested I see if all my electronics devices were still working. Big screen...check. DVD player...check. Receiver...check. CD changer...check. TiVo...TiVo? TiVo?? How do you turn this thing on. The remote has no button for "on", so I push all the buttons. Nothing. And then we smell the box. TiVo is on fire. I completely unplug it and throw it out into the garage, the odor following me as I move it away. TiVo has been burning in my basement for the past 6 hours.

So, the light switch was replaced and TiVo is no more. So long "Comedy Central Presents...Mitch Hedberg" and "Making the Video: Boots are made for Walking," you had been there for a while. And so long to the newest episodes of "Last Comic Standing" and "Dog the Bounty Hunter."

Well, the mystery is solved. You've been Thunderstruck.

Yeah, it's alright.
We're doing fine.
So Fine.
Thunderstruck.

Top 10 Funniest Movies

Well, Friday night rolled around and with it came the opening of the newest Will Ferrell movie, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. I'm a huge Will Ferrell fan so, of course, there I am with my brother and his roommate to see the 7 PM showing on opening night. My expectations were high, and though the movie didn't rank up there with his previous greats (Old School, Anchorman), it did have some solid parts. I'm sure it'll be a lot funnier once I've seen it about 5 more times and can start throwing lines from it into my everyday conversations.

So, like I said, this movie didn't rank up there with his previous movies...but how exactly do those other movies rank up with what I would consider the Funniest Movies I've seen. So, it seemed only fitting that I whip out:

The 10 Ten Funniest Movies Ever
(Let me just start by saying Jim Carrey irritates me and I don't like Ben Stiller's sense of humor, so some of their 'finer' works are missing)
10. Mallrats - Jason Lee is freakin hilarious in this movie and Jay & Silent Bob have their moments as well. All in all a solid movie with several laugh out loud moments.
9. Austin Powers - It's basically a bunch of gags one right after another and is too solid a movie to have been left off this list. The sequels had their funny parts (Fat Bastard) but I'm giving the overall nod to the original.
8. Anchorman - The news team fight is amazing, and Will Ferrell could just be standing there and I would laugh.
7. Happy Gilmore - Adam Sandler has always been a favorite of mine and having watched this movie probably 20 or more times, I can say with conviction that it is one of the funniest movies around. Hell, he fights Bob Barker.
6. Wedding Crashers - My expectations were perhaps a bit too high when I first saw this movie, but Vince Vaughn and his rants always keep me entertained. It may drop with time, but right now it's still a top movie.
5. Billy Madison - Another Adam Sandler movie makes an appearance on the big board. This was his first and his finest, and nothing beats throwing a ball at small children to make me laugh. (Hell, it's the only time I laughed when I saw "Bad News Bears")
4. Van Wilder - Though I feel like I wanna puke when the Frat Boys are eating the eclairs (yeah, you know the scene), there's too many hilarious parts to this movie for it to not make the list. And having just seen it on Comedy Central again today, it's jumped a bit up the standings.
3. American Pie - My brother debated this movie even being considered for this list, but Stiffler alone makes this movie a Top 5. Plus, who doesn't love Eugene Levy...well, except for the movie, "The Man"
2. Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle - This is arguably the funniest movie ever, but nothing can really unseat the overall greatness of the #1 movie. Then again, the NPH cameo is pretty damned amazing. If you're doubting me...go watch this movie again. You will laugh out loud.
1. Old School - Come on. Was there any doubt? This movie is one of the finest pieces of work ever made in the comedy genre and will be cherished for years to come. We're going streaking!!!

Now I'm sure there will be plenty of debate if any of my 20 or so readers actually brings himself to type anything, so let me do you one better. If you actually care, and want to make your voice heard, post your own top ten in the comments section and I will award 10 points for any first place vote on down to 1 point for tenth and then I will repost my top ten with your adjustments next week. Seems like a fair compromise? And here's a few movies that didn't make the cut that you may want to consider as well.

40 Year Old Virgin
Caddyshack
Animal House
Dumb & Dumber
Something About Mary
Airplane
Tommy Boy
Super Troopers
Half Baked
Scary Movie
Don't Be a Menace to South Central...
Nutty Professor
Duece Bigelow
National Lampoon's Vacation
Naked Gun
Meet The Parents
Zoolander
Bad Santa
Ace Ventura

Taggers

Earlier in the week, I met my brother at a job site to give him a part that I had picked up for the job he was at. When I pulled up next to the service truck, however, I noticed that there was something on the hub cap. It looked like a "D" and it was spray painted on there. Where in the hell did that come from?! I'm sure I hadn't seen that before. My brother was also unsure, and it wasn't until I got back to our warehouse that I realized where it had come from.

There, in our parking lot, sat several other trucks, spray painted by vandals with the word "DARK" tagged in random locations. One truck, that has been sitting in the lot and hasn't moved in a while was completely tagged up. They had spray painted the entire passenger side window and rearview window white and painted "DARK" over top of that, in addition to the 6-8 other locations the word and other drawings appeared all over the large box truck.

Wow! Where did all this spray painting come from? Hmmm. Let me think. There is a warehouse spot in this development for a realty company, a gym supplier, a framing store, that weird guy that looks like the Riddler, and... an underground autobody shop that specializes in spray painting designs on cars and only works at night because they probably don't have a license to do car work in our warehouse development to begin with. Hmmm. Who could have done this? I'm stumped.

So, we call the building supervisor and mention what has occurred and who we "think" might be responsible for it. Of course, he's being a big vagina and refuses to take any action because no one actually saw anyone do it. That's right, no one saw them do it...but these are the same guys that spray painted all over the inside of their warehouse walls, and even on their own cars, plus all of the trucks that were tagged were either directly in front of their warehouse spot or just out of view of the main traffic. But he's right, that would be circumstantial evidence. And who would be stupid enough to spray paint right in front of their own shop. Certainly not punks who sit in a warehouse inhaling spray paint all night. Definitely not.

On to the police. So we give them a call and inform them of what occurred. They're more concerned as to whether "DARK" is a racial slur and whether this was a hate crime. Are you kidding me? Hate crime? I don't know about you, but I don't particularly "love" getting spray paint put on my vehicle. Fucking "hate" crime! When we told them it wasn't, immediately we're not important and I still haven't heard anything from them since. But I expected that.

So what's the next step...vigilante justice, of course. No, I didn't break anything of theirs or spray paint their vehicles or anything like that. The thought crossed my mind, but I'm not trying to get thrown in jail or fined or some crap like that. I mean, they just sprayed a 'D' on my wheel. They did much worse to other people's trucks. Certainly the other guys would be just as mad as me. Right?

So I walked my ass down to the guy who owns the sign shop, who happened to have two trucks he was working on (putting signage on them) tagged up. Now, this guy is an animal. I know, because he has come into my office and bitched at me because my guys are parking in his parking spots. Now, let me tell you. If you saw how mad he was over taking his parking spots, one can only imagine what he would do when someone elses' vehicle, in his care, got vandalized.

Let me just pay him a quick visit. And that's where I'm gonna end this particular tale. You can finish it however you see fit, but make sure you include a lot of curse words, because that would be truest to form.

Yeah, I poked the bees' nest and perhaps I poured honey on these spray paint guys, without any solid proof, but hey...what else am I gonna do to keep myself entertained. They shouldn't have messed with my truck.

A New Addition

If my retarded stories weren't enough to keep you coming back, I have now added another way for you to waste your day instead of working....FROGGER.

Yep, scroll down to the end of the links on the right and you'll find good old Frogger at your disposal, all day, every day. You think you'll only play one go round, but trust me you'll be hooked. Enjoy the new addition, I'll post something later.

Top 10: Building the Franchise

Last night, I'm sitting in bed watching TV when I flip to ESPN and see that the Red Sox-Indians game is in the bottom of the ninth and the score is 8-6, with the Sox at bat with a man on first and no outs. As some of you may have already seen, the next batter proceeds to get walked, and ESPN is already panning to David Ortiz, moving to the on-deck circle, as Mark Loretta comes to the plate.

Let me just start by saying that I really don't like the Red Sox. I was raised a Yankee fan and with that comes some standard requisites, one being a hatred for the Sox. But as I'm sitting in bed watching this game, I'm starting to get goosebumps, because I know what is about to happen. The Red Sox coach does not option to have Loretta sacrifice bunt, which would move the runners, but leave 1st base open for an intentional walk. Instead, he lets Loretta swing away, and to the Sox delight, he does not hit into a double play. He pops out in the infield and the runners are still at 1st and 2nd when Big Papi comes up against Fausto Carmona, the new Indians closer.

The rest is like a Michael Jordan highlight. Game on the line, the closing moments, this is when the real men dial it in. And Ortiz did it again. The first pitch in the strike zone, he nails it to center field and walks off with a 3-run, game winning homerun. Even I cheered, he's just simply amazing.

But moments like this got me to thinking, with a guy like David Ortiz, and the Nationals move to not trade Alfonso Soriano at the deadline yesterday, if you could build a baseball franchise today from scratch, who would you start with? I discussed this at work the other day, and here's my newest top 10 list:

Top 10 Players to Begin a MLB Franchise With
10. David Wright 3B NYM - Most people would probably say, "who?" and wonder how a guy like this even made it onto my list. The fact of the matter is, this guy is probably one of the best overall talents in baseball right now, and he's still very young. If you're looking to build, this is a good place to start.
9. Ryan Howard 1B PHI - Before the All-Star break, you would have probably said "who?" about this guy as well. After the Home Run Derby, however, you're probably now aware that he is a monster talent and a batter to be feared for years to come.
8. Andruw Jones CF ATL - Atlanta has been winning the NL East since I was still in high school and one very consistent piece of that squad is the best centerfielder in baseball right now. He brings power at the plate, as he displayed last year, and you can't overlook what having a great defender patrolling the outfield can do for a baseball franchise.
7. Johan Santana SP Minn - He's arguably the most dominant pitcher in baseball over the last several years and he's still got plenty of years left to build on his legacy. They say pitching wins championships, and although I don't think I'd begin a franchise with a pitcher, he'd definitely be the one I'd choose.
6. Alfonso Soriano 2B/OF Wash - Do I even need to say anything to support this call? He IS the Nationals franchise right now, and I hope that the lack of a trade is an indication that they are going to try and sign him long-term.
5. Ichiro Suzuki RF Sea - Aside from the fact that he is an INTERNATIONAL superstar, which brings a whole new fanbase to a franchise, he is arguably the best leadoff hitter in baseball, and that does a lot to change the complexion of a game when a pitcher has to think about a steal threat while he's trying to get through the heart of the lineup. Ichiro isn't too shabby in the field either.
4. David Ortiz DH BOS - This goes back to the story of last night...and the stories of the ALDS, that I won't bring up. Ortiz is the most clutch hitter in baseball, and I wouldn't want anyone else up to bat with the game on the line. That's obviously saying alot because to build a franchise around someone who only makes an appearance 3-6 times per game would usually not merit a #4 on a ranking sheet. Or an AL MVP???
3. Derek Jeter SS NYY - He's been through it in the past and has proven that he is a clutch batter, fielder and leader. He makes the whole team better by his presence and could arguably be my #1 selection.
2. Alex Rodriguez 3B NYY - Some of the other Yankee fans (and baseball fans, in general) can boo him and get on his case for having a bad spell right now, but the fact of the matter is, is that he is the best player in baseball over the last decade. Yeah, he strikes out when the game is on the line every now and then, but he also contributes to the fact that the game is never "on the line" for the next 3-5 games after that. Hate him all you want, the guy produces.
1. Albert Pujols 1B STL - Pujols is the second coming of A-Rod. And at only 26 years of age, he's already in his 6th year of putting up absolutely ridiculous power and average numbers. If anyone has a chance at the triple crown in the foreseeable future, it's this guy. And if you're talking about building a franchise, there's not even a debate in my mind that he's the guy I'd want.

The Dog Walker

A couple weeks into my mouth being wired, I started thinking to myself, "how is this going to change me?" I was a psychology major in college and I am aware of the effects of conditioning on a person's mind. Would I lose my desire to talk, given the frustration that it causes me? Or would I lose my ability to smile, given that smiling causes me pain as the wires dig into my lips? Or would I become claustraphobic, having lived in a trapped state, with my mouth held shut by an outside force? There's still no telling if any of these will happen, as I am now only about halfway through this process (can you believe it's been a month?)

But what I do know is, something about me has changed. Something shocking and unexpected. You see, before my injury, taking Chloe for a walk was for the expressed purpose of making her tired, so that she would not be as hyper and at the same time attain her necessary exercise. These walks were infrequent in nature and usually lasted about 10-15 minutes, once around the block.

You see, I'm not really that friendly with people in my neighborhood. Most people who walk dogs (like my buddy Bristow) think it's some big giant party and all the dogs are friends and want to talk and socialize. They get to know all the local dog's names and "talk" to them and give them treats as they gossip with the other dog owners around the dog park. What in the hell is this all about?!!

Look, buddy, you're a creepy old man who lives in a house around the corner with dead bushes in the front yard. I don't want to talk to you, normally. And I especially don't want to talk to you while your dog sniffs my dog's ass and gets their leashes all tangled up.

And look lady, my dog can't talk, so stop telling her how beautiful she is and asking her her name. She ain't gonna tell it to you and I'm not gonna talk to someone who communicates with dogs in front of complete strangers, either. And you certainly may not give her a dog treat, because I don't know who you are and I wouldn't let you give my kids candy, and until I have some, Chloe's my closest thing to a kid.

Yep, that was the old J-Man. I'm not sure what made me so jaded. Perhaps it was growing up on 3 acres where my old dog would run free and rarely interact with other dogs. Or maybe it was because I talked with complete strangers all day on the phone, and as I've mentioned before, this makes me want to do anything but that when I'm not working.

So, I would redirect my walks to avoid people, cross the street if another dog was coming, and tug Chloe on like we were in a hurry when interaction could not be avoided.

That is, until about a week ago. As if by some great conditioning miracle, I sat in my study, randomly turned to Chloe and said the magic word..."walk." She goes bonkers whenever I say this, howling and running in circles. Using the Dog Whisperers guidance, I calm her and we exit the house for a walk...a walk that has escalated each day to the point where we are walking about 1.5 miles every day. And when other dogs approach, I give Chloe a moment.

I gave her more than a moment when this hot chick was walking her little dog, Mr. Big, and usually I even begin a conversation with the other walker. Mostly it's been about my jaw because it's a little weird when a wild-haired (yeah, still not cut) man with what appears to be braces slurs his words as he holds his beagle. So usually after I say a couple things, I excuse my slurring and explain that my jaw is wired shut.

Regardless, Chloe and I are now becoming social. She doesn't get a mohawk (not sure why she does that) when every dog walks by, nor does she cower, and I don't loath an imminent conversation with a "five minute friend." We're growing and the positive reinforcement is encouraging the learning.

I still don't try to take Chloe in the direction of other dogs, and it's always stupid when someone asks Chloe her name, but hey, miracles don't happen overnight. But Pavlov would be proud, we're both learning and it has increased my walking to a daily occurrence.

How has the injury changed me?....It's left me so bored, not answering the phones at work, and sitting here alone, that I have become what for the past two years, I have mocked. Yes, I have become a Dog Walker.

Intruders?

So, two nights ago, I'm lying in bed, dead asleep at around 12:15 AM, when I wake up suddenly. I'm not totally sure what woke me because I was still in the daze that accompanies being shaken awake (I've had many stellar cell. phone conversations this way). Anyway, after I gain my bearings, I realize that it is very dark in my bedroom. Then I hear it. It's my alarm system, making a chirping sound like someone just opened a door...but with an added beep.

Things are really clearing up now and I finally realize that my alarm clock is off and everything is dark...my power is out. It wasn't storming or even windy outside, that I could tell, as I made my way to my window to look out and see what's going on. Oddly, the houses across the street and the street lights are on. What the heck is going on here? (chirp, chirp...there goes that damned alarm again)

I'm still sort of in a dream state since it's dark and my mind is racing with all the possibilities of what's occurring. For some damned reason, my mind came up with the idea that someone broke into my basement and cut all the power to stop the alarm from going off. It seemed reasonable enough at 12:15 in the pitch black...especially in the high crime area of North Bethesda. Now I'm in a mild panic. Chloe is slowly stretching in bed, and looking at me pacing around the room looking for some shorts like I'm a mad man. Some watch dog, didn't mean to disturb your wonderful slumber.

I keep listening to see if I hear anyone, but the place seems quiet. (chirp, chirp) Once I locate some gym shorts, I stumble over to my night stand where I usually keep a maglite, just in case. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find it and my cell. phone isn't there either. Great. Then I remember that I left my cell. phone in the bathroom. It's even darker as I enter the bathroom, which has no windows and therefore absolutely no light coming in from outside, but I find my phone and open it to give me a "flashlight." I walk back over to my night stand and see that the maglite was actually on top of it, rather than on the usual shelf inside, and I'm set to patrol the house.

The alarm is still chirping with regularity as I slowly creep out of my bedroom and peer over the landing down stairs. Chloe is following behind me like a cowardly Scooby Doo, wanting no part of a trip down the stairs either. I make my way to the study to see if anything is odd out to the front of the house. Again, the houses across the street to my front all have power. What the hell!?

I still haven't heard anything other than the alarm chirp, so I think calling the police would be a bit drastic, and I can't really talk that well with my mouth wired shut anyway, so I figure I'll go check things out myself.

With maglite and cell. phone in hand, I stealthfully head down the stairs with Chloe two steps behind me, running through the attack moves that I will use on any intruder before bolting to my bedroom to call for police backup, in my head. Nothing strange about that. Once I get to the first floor, I look around and see nothing odd, slowly scaling past the stairs to the basement, en route to the kitchen. Nothing odd going on in there, so I decide to grab myself a butcher knife, just in case. Yeah, I watch way too much TV.

At this point, I'm short on hands, and my damned gym shorts don't have pockets, so I straddle my cell phone over the elastic in my shorts and armed with a butcher knife and maglite in each hand, I make my final leg of the patrol, down to the basement. I'm still sticking with my original thoughts that this is where the intruder is, and I have now devised the plan of blinding the intruder with the light before lunging at him with the butcher knife. Sadly, this is not the first time in the last month that I have done this. My door chime randomly went off a couple weeks ago at like 3 AM without a power outage and I made these same rounds. Yeah, apparently after midnight and home alone I become a crazed Steven Segal wannabe. Who knew??

Chloe finally takes the lead on the final few stairs as I open and examine each closet and room in my basement, before finally ending at the breaker panel. No intruder. No breakers off. And Chloe wants to take a piss.

I let her out back, do a quick patrol of my backyard and finally notice that the row of houses connected to mine is black as Wesley Snipes. Guess we've got an isolated outage. After Chloe finishes up her business, I make my way upstairs and kill the chirp on my alarm, which has been eerily beeping every few minutes during this whole ordeal.

Once I've got that solved, I head upstairs to call Pepco and see what they have to say about this. Thankfully, they have a fully automated system so I don't have to talk, and it informs me that they are aware of the outage and that it should be resolved by 3 AM.

Not sure if I'm gonna wake up when the power comes back on, so I call my little brother and tell him to give me a wakeup call at 7 AM the next morning.

Thankfully, I was awoken by the power returning on at around 1:45 AM and I reset my alarm, as my brother forgot to call in the morning. Should've figured when you call someone at 12:30 at night and give them instructions for the next morning, they're likely to be forgotten.

So, I survived the night and evaded the attack of any intruders. I still locked my bedroom door and put my laundry basket in front of it, just in case. Like you would have done any different.

Where for art thou, Beer?

After a month of consuming almost 40 gallons of liquid, none of which contained a single drop of alcohol, my liver had been asking me what he had done to deserve such a wonderful break. Well, little fella, break time is over.

This past Friday, the long wait came to an end as I joined my brother and one of my employees, Matt, at Caddies in Bethesda for a couple beers. As I have stated in past posts, I have now attained the ability to drink out of glasses and bottles, and my speech, though slurred through the wires, is somewhat recognizable in normal circumstances. I figured I was up for it; plus, I'm going crazy here not being able to do normal stuff, and being newly single and alone piled on top of that just makes things exponentially worse.

So, I sucked up the fact that I wouldn't be hitting on any ladies for fear of scarring (yes, you read that right) them and just went to re-establish my relationship with Miller Lite. To my surprise, the bouncer at Caddies was an old employee of mine, Hector, so it was nice to see him and have him give me a "Holy shit, what happened to you!?" as I walked in the door. Solid start, I'm not self-conscious or anything.

We walk in and do a once around the first floor before heading upstairs. Kevin and Matt are trying to meet up with some ladies that they know, so when we don't locate them upstairs, we grab a brew and decide to just shoot the shit for a while. Unfortunately, I hadn't realized how much louder a bar is than a normal setting (yeah, even Caddies?!) and it is a struggle for either of them to hear me. No wonder ventriloquist use microphones. This forces me to lean in on most conversations, which can border on being kinda gay, especially if the listener turns the way you weren't expecting. No, I will not make out with you!

And I will not go into many of the details of the evening, because quite frankly it wasn't all that impressive, though a nice return to normalcy...or so I thought. Here are some of the finer points from the remainder of the evening:

• Upon meeting up with the ladies, my brother is not quick enough to take charge of the conversation before the girl he knows starts making her own introductions and makes her way to me. I'm uncertain what to do, but I extend my hand and try to say my name despite the noise. Unfortunately, the "f" is pretty much the hardest sound for me to make and when I do open my mouth, she gets a gander at my 'grill'. She definitely took a step back, like I was about to expel acidy spit from my mouth, before she put two and two together and realized that I was Kevin's brother...the one with the broken jaw. Yeah, I'm not self-conscious or anything.
• After one beer, I'm buzzing. After two beers, I'm bloated. After three beers...wait, I was too full to finish a third beer. And I drank three waters, just in case. Wow, tolerance and beer belly volume dwindle rapidly.
• Apparently the beer numbed the feeling in my lips so that I couldn't feel the wires digging into them throughout the night as I spoke with different people. When I awoke on Saturday morning, the inside of my top lip looked like ground beef and the bottom one was not far off.

So Saturday and Sunday, I enjoyed an inability to move my swollen lips as I sat around my house all day rinsing with salt water, only leaving the house twice to walk Chloe. Looks like drinking is gonna have to take a few more weeks off. Enjoy the break, liver. Start rebuilding.

Wow, weekends really aren't what they used to be.

The Transformation

Here is a pictorial of the change that has occurred in the last 3 weeks. I will re-post this each week with a new addition until the final transformation includes all 9 weeks.

This is a picture I took maybe three days before I broke my jaw. I was still weighing 185 lbs. and could actually open my mouth.

Here is a picture of me two days after I broke my jaw, but before my surgery (Week 1). My face is badly swollen, making me look like I put on 40 lbs. and my jaw looks distorted.

Here is a picture of me from July 11 (Week 2). The swelling was gone and I was down to 175 lbs. but still looked somewhat normal. I hadn't discovered that I could use an electric shaver at this point, so I had a goatee.

Here is a picture of me from July 19 (Week 3). I am down to 170 lbs. and looking somewhat emaciated. I have been able to shave though I hadn't gotten my moustache yet, because I don't own an electric shaver and just use one of my employees.

This is a picture of me from July 26 (Week 4). I am still at 170 lbs., but I am trying to make a positive of this whole ordeal by lifting as much as I can (which ain't much when you eat only liquids) so that may be part of the reason my weight is holding. Some minor swelling in my jaw from the wires irritating my gums also makes my face look less drawn, so overall I'm looking somewhat normal, though skinnier than usual. Though, in this particular picture, I feel like I look about 10 years younger.

The Path I Must Take

The option has been staring me in the face each time I visited the grocery store. I have fought the urge, knowing that once I went down that path, that I could never return...that I would never be the same. Though my mouth being wired has taken much from me, my pride had remained in tact. But I could not withstand any longer...I am too weak.

Two weeks into my life eating liquid foods, my body has become weak, I have not eaten anything resembling real food since June and I needed to make a choice. And my choice was to go down the baby food aisle.

Yes, the J-Man has crumbled. Ensure is great. Chicken broth and Cream of Potato soup are palletable. And milkshakes made with canned fruit are a pleasant treat. But nothing can compare with something that claims to be Turkey and Rice.

So there I stood, at 12:00 PM today, shaking from hunger and the added strain of 100 degree heat, pushing a cart through Shoppers Food Warehouse. I knew I was out of soup, so I had filled my cart with Chicken Broth, Cream of Potato, and a new Italian Tomato soup I had just seen, as I made my way to the Ensure stand. Positioned by the Pharmacy, my eyes were drawn to the right, adjacent to the medical needs. There it stood...the baby foods. I grabbed three containers of Ensure and gently strolled over to the tiny little jars.

I'll just see what this is all about. Maybe I'll give one a try, just to see. I mean, I went to Wendy's yesterday and ground up a cup of their Chili...how much lower can I go. And then, like a 7-year old on Christmas, I could not hold back the glee as I saw some of the names on the bottles: Chicken Noodle Dinner; Ham and Gravy; Turkey and Apples. With each label I read, I found myself saying, that sounds good, and plopping the petitte container into my cart.

Gerber Original...sounds good. Oooo, Gerber Tender Harvest...how high brow. Ooohhh, Beech Nut Naturals...now we're talking.

Before I knew it, I had grabbed almost 12 jars and began to gaze around like a timid thief, wondering if people were around, wondering why this unshaven, (hey, I said I could shave, I didn't say I would) skinny man was piling up on the baby stuffs. I reclaimed my body control, re-read one of the labels, and realized I was not yet at the third stage of baby food (Stage 3 has small bits of food to aid in learning to chew...I'm not at that stage yet). I returned a couple of bottles to their place and made the shameful walk to the cash register.

Yes, I am buying baby food with the intent to eat it myself. No, I see nothing wrong with that. It's not like I'm eating dog food or something. I mean babies are just small people...and they like sucking on titties. Now we will simply have TWO things in common. Well, three if we include shitting your pants, but you try and tell me you could stop that when all you eat is liquids and you feel the urge to rip one. Errrrr.

So, I'm back at home, unloading my groceries. I am now truly shaking with hunger as I reach into the bag and pull out the Gerber Chicken Noodle Dinner. I read it could be heated, so I spoon the paste out of the jar and into a bowl. Unfortunately, it is still a bit too thick for me to easily suck it through the gaps in my teeth (damned babies!) so I am forced to add some water to thin it out a bit. After 30 seconds in the microwave, I begin my feast. It is a bit bland, perhaps for the sake of the babies and perhaps because I diluted it with water, so I grab some salt, pepper and garlic powder (they...and soy sauce...fix anything) and the taste of real chicken hits my tongue again.

If you've seen a baby, you'll realize that despite my loss of weight (down to 170 lbs. now) they are considerably smaller than me. So I grab for the Tender Harvest Chicken & Wild Rice and throw that one back as well, along with a cold Strawberry Shake Ensure.

I have walked the path I once walked. I have returned to my humble beginnings. At 28 years of age, I will soon be routinely eating Gerber's finest again.

Don't care what people say.
Just follow your own way.
Don't give up and use the chance.
To return to innocence.
That's not the beginning of the end.
That's the return to yourself.
The return to innocence.

Ooooyy, iiiii, hiiii, ooo, iiii, eee, iii, ooo...

Adapt and Survive

We're at 11 days of living with my jaw wired shut and living under the conditions I had assumed in my earlier post just weren't going to cut it. If I'm going to last this 8 weeks, some changes needed to be made. I needed to go Darwinian style and adapt to my environment in order to survive. And that's just what I've done.

Can't shave...I don't think so. Turns out an electric shaver does not require me to stretch my face in any direction in order to get my moustache and under my lips. So long homeless J-man.

Eating through a straw...I don't think so. Looking like a tard sucking broth through a twisty straw is a thing of the past. I have been training my lips and have now restored my ability to eat with a spoon and drink directly from a glass.

Letting my hair grow long...well, I kinda like this idea, so I'm sticking with it.

Eating only Ensure, yogurt, and chicken broth...I don't think so. Nothing was gonna keep me from Chinese food for 8 weeks, and my vast knowledge of the Chinese food menu presented me with the obvious choice for transforming food into liquid...Ma Po Tofu. I had to have someone else order the delivery, but the people of Beijing Szechuan were happy to hear that familiar delivery address on the other end.

No masturbating...well, nobody said anything about that. Thankfully, that was something that I never had to do without.

Adaptation in order to survive. Soon, I will master the art of ventriloquism and it'll be like nothing has changed. Well except for the fact that I'm still eating freaking liquids!!!!

Deaf Scammers

Looks like the Africans have found a new way to scam people and waste your time. No longer are emails their only means of trying to get you involved in a shady deal...now they are using the deaf phone relay system. And my mom and my company were their latest target.

Monday afternoon, our phone rang and it was the hearing impaired relay service. For those of you who don't know what this is, it is a way for deaf people to contact others via the phone. They type their conversation into some device they have and then a relay operator acts as an intermediary between this typed message and the person they are trying to call. We used to have a deaf client, so I am used to this type of procedure, as was my mother when the phone rang.

We actually haven't heard from our deaf client this year, so my mother assumed it was her at first, until the new caller identified themself as John Mark. My mom is easily rattled by these types of conversations as I usually handled all these calls in the past, but given my wired mouth state, she had to take it. She ended the conversation confused and under the impression that the man wanted us to install a new heater at his house and wanted to know the price. He provided us with an email address and I typed up a very rough estimate for a heater installation, given that he didn't provide her (I told you she gets rattled) with any specifics to the installation. I indicated that we would need to examine his pool equipment prior to presenting a final proposal, but got him in the ballpark.

So, yesterday this same "deaf" guy calls back and indicates that he doesn't want to have it installed but rather wants it shipped out of the country. I've never shipped anything out of the country before, let alone a 220 lb. pool heater, so my gut tell me to send this guy somewhere else. I instruct my mom to tell him to try and find the heater online from a company that does that sort of thing, because I don't want to be bothered with it.

She again gets rattled (man, I wish I could talk again) by the man's persistent requests and asks me what it would cost for the heater, and says that he said he'll handle all the shipping. I say it's about $2000, to which he says he'd like to order one. Well, what the hell!? If he's gonna handle the shipping, he can buy my heater. I definitely need a credit card though. So, she gets a credit card number...which actually worked...and he sends me an email with the shipping company's email address, as well as the address for where it is being sent.

Up to this point, I have no idea where this is going, but when the email arrives and says they want it shipped to Ghana, I know something is up. Nobody ships stuff to Ghana. And why would they choose our company as opposed to an online company that would definitely be less expensive. You see, we can't compete on price with the online guys, our draw is that we stand behind our products and are local...which doesn't really seem to work when you're dealing with Ghana. Anywho, I send their "shipping company" the info on the heater and they write me back to say that the shipping costs will be about $2000.

This seemed about right, but who am I to know...I don't ship crap to Africa. At this point, I'm getting very wary of the whole deal, and when I read that the shipping company only accepts Moneygrams and Western Union payments, I decide this is not something I want to pursue any further. Plus, I don't know what exporting laws and shit are and whether I need a license to ship products overseas. This is becoming a headache I don't need so I send John Mark a note that he's just gonna have to find someone else, because I don't know the specifics of shipping and don't want to waste any more of his and my time if this might not even be possible.

But he doesn't want to take 'no' for an answer. He calls and emails back, begging that we do this and pleading that he will pay for all shipping costs. His credit card worked...but this just seems too fishy. I give him the send off and once that is finished, I figure I'll do a google search and see if this is something anyone has seen before.

Sure enough, there's a couple articles basically outlining the exact same thing that happened here and indicating that in most cases the credit cards that are used are stolen and eventually get revoked.

Well, I guess my gut was right. Too bad this is gonna give deaf people a bad name when they really do want to buy a pool heater. I guess the biggest tip off should have been the fact that they wanted us to send a pool heater to Ghana.

I mean, why the fuck would you want to heat a pool in Africa anyway?

The Good and the Bad

It's been one week of having my jaw wired shut today, with only 7 more weeks to go. And though I'm in very little pain, except when I sleep, the inconvenience of not talking normally and having to eat only foods I can sip through a straw is already starting to wear on me. In this week, I have discovered some new things regarding life with your mouth wired shut, some are good and some are bad. Here's a breakdown of a few of them:

GOOD - I have already lost 10 lbs. and can see a four-pack on my stomach now. Perhaps by eight weeks, I'll see the whole six-pack.

BAD - The reason I've lost 10 lbs. is that my diet has consisted of Ensure, yogurt, and chicken broth

BAD - I can't shave around my goatee area because I can't stretch my face for my razor, so I'm stuck growing a goatee for the next 8 weeks

BAD - I don't want to go to my haircut girl in my state of being and my hair was already long, so it is going to be really long come September. Combined with the goatee and the weight loss, I should look like a homeless guy by week 5.

GOOD - I was scheduled for jury duty on July 18, and now I don't have to go

BAD - I was scheduled to go see Nickelback on July 26, and now I don't want to go

GOOD - I don't have to talk on the phone with clients and hear them bitch for the next 8 weeks

BAD - I tried to deposit my paychecks at an ATM yesterday and realized I can't lick the envelope, so I had to drool on my fingers and rub them on the envelope

BAD - I can only sleep on my back with my head tilted straight up or slightly to the right

BAD - I tried to mash taco-flavored chicken with salsa and cheddar soup in a blender, only to waste 20 minutes of my time making a concoction that clogged my wires and ended up in the trash.

GOOD - A milkshake is considered a good meal

BAD - I can't brush the teeth on the inside of my mouth, so I can feel plaque building up each day, and all I can do is rinse with mouth wash and deal with it

And...

BAD - It seems the "BAD" are outnumbering the "GOOD" and I've still got 7 more weeks of this

Fantasy Baseball - Mid-way

Well, I'm tired of writing about my jaw situation...though I have some other nice stories to come, so I thought I'd turn my attention to fantasy baseball as I've done in the past. Last year, I made some mid-season predictions to go along with my beginning of the year picks and thought I'd continue the trend this year, as well as give an update on my fantasy performances thusfar.

In the 3 leagues I'm in, I'm in 2nd in two and 4th in the other as we sit today, though two of them I've been in and out of 1st place from day to day. Most of my great luck thusfar can be attributed to the absolutely ridiculous hitting of David Ortiz the last few weeks. This guy is gonna start getting the Barry Bonds treatment soon, though Manny batting behind him is making that a tough decision for managers to make. I hope the break doesn't cool him off.

In addition, my formula of stud starter (Halladay/Schilling) coupled with 2-3 high K starters (Bonderman/Haren/Myers/C.Young/RJ) and a high K closer seems to be keeping my pitching staffs pretty solid, thanks to Jeremy Bonderman especially. All three of my teams have the potential to win it all, so with just a few tweaks, I think I can pull out at least one championship...maybe more if I'm lucky.

And here's some predictions for you all to consider as you make your second half moves in hopes of taking home the cash.

Players to TRADE AWAY

5) Justin Verlander, SP Det - This kid is a stud and was one I was hoping to grab in my keeper league. And that's where his value lies. If you're in a keeper league, hold onto him (and his hard-throwing counterpart, and possible future closer Joel Zumaya), but if you're in a one and done league, now's the time to bail. All young fireballers have a learning curve and he's been fortunate enough to have the stuff to get around it. The hitters are gonna catch up with him as the footage mounts, and then they're gonna start bringing him down to earth. Trade him and his amazing start now for a more proven veteran.

4) Nomar Garciaparra, 1B LAD - I'm happy to see that Nomar has bounced back from all the injuries in the past, but I just can't see him lasting a full season. Minor injuries are to be expected, at a minimum, in the second half and that's a headache you don't want from your 1B. See what his value is and consider dealing him now...it's probably not gonna get any higher.

3) Bronson Arroyo, SP Cin - The Arroyo train is starting to loose steam. He has lost 2 of his last 3 starts and is starting to get hit a bit harder. Last year, his second half was considerably worse than his first, with an ERA jump over 1.00. His stats still look amazing, thanks to his ridiculous start, but that'll only last for so long. Send him packing like the Red Sox did. You won't regret it though.

2) Miguel Tejada, SS Bal - The magic is gone. Miguel is not a happy camper and will likely bring up the trade desire issue again, which will bring down his stats in the second half, a la 2005. He's a great player, so he's not gonna turn into Aaron Hill or anything, but you probably drafted him expecting stud abilities and you might wanna deal him now so you can get someone who will bring that for you down the stretch.

1) Mike Mussina, SP NYY - I love the Moose, but this is a no-brainer. He's 37 years old. He hasn't played a full second half of the season in 3 years. He hasn't posted an ERA below 4.00 in 3 years, and it's been on a constant rise for the last 2 months. If you haven't moved him yet, you better hurry.

So, if this is who you should get rid of...who should you get? Well, here you go.

Players to TRADE FOR

5) Randy Johnson, SP NYY - Tons of magazines and writers will tell you that the Big Unit is done for and that his high homerun totals (Schilling and Beckett have more, BTW) and ERA above 5.00 are signs that he's not even worth starting in some leagues. Hope that the RJ owner in your league thinks the same way and see if you can grab him while he's low. He had a bad 1st half last year, but his K numbers and Wins are still there, and 4 of his last 5 starts have been good ones, with the bad one being against the ridiculously good Mets. The old man's not done, and he could be the guy that pushes you over the top.

4) Bobby Abreu, OF Phi - Oh, how the mighty have fallen. This was last year's Home Run Derby champ and now he's got 8 HR in the first half. Unless he's injured, which the 17 steals would suggest otherwise, he's just waiting to hit a groove. See if you can get him now, as he's probably gonna be back with a vengence after a nice break.

3) Prince Fielder, 1B Mil - If you're in a keeper league, you should consider this even more important. Prince has Ryan Howard-capabilities, but is still hovering under the radar thanks to a recent slump causing a drop in his batting average and the fact that he plays in Milwaukee. Howard had 300+ AB last year, and now look at him. Fielder has had 300+ AB in the first half...you figure it out.

2) Adrian Gonzalez, 1B SD - This is my sleeper pick of the bunch and one you likely could just pickup off the waiver wire, if you're lucky. A former #1 pick, he's a solid line drive hitter who I've been reading about since he was in Texas. San Diego isn't that great of a hitter's park, but he's at least getting ABs and is putting up some decent numbers for a young guy. He's finally logged about 450 AB, so he should have his shit together. Look for a solid second half from this virtual unknown.

1) Mark Teixeira, 1B Tex - The guy that kept Gonzalez out of the Rangers lineup and eventually sent to San Diego is actually having a worse year than Adrian. But that has to change. I'm sure the guy in your league that drafted Teixeira (probably in the 1st round) is very bitter right now and may not be willing to deal in hopes he'll turn it around. If that's not the case, move in now. Teixeira will likely do some work during the break to turn those doubles (30!!) into homeruns.

And there you have it, my second half Fantasy predictions. Take it or leave it, but don't say I didn't give you a chance to catch me in the standings.

Living Through the Wire

Well, surgery was a sucess on Monday night and I am now back living without the assistance of my family in my own home again. The last few days have been very odd and I'm sure the next 8 weeks are going to be very difficult and annoying. So, here's a quick recap of how things went down.

I went to the oral surgeon's office on Monday morning to have another set of X-rays taken of my jaw so that he could make his final diagnosis. Unfortunately, all of the X-rays were in paper form so I never got a CD-Rom copy so that I could post it for you guys, so you'll just have to deal with this artist's rendering of the skull and my red additions showing the locations of the breaks.

After seeing the breaks, the surgeon was pretty sure that he would need to cut open the bottom of my chin and attach a metal brace to the bone to help support it in place, since it had shifted out of place so badly. This is the first time during the whole process when I became geniunely scared. He also mentioned that there is a nerve in that portion of the face that if it is damaged could cause constant numbness or a tingle there on my face. Now, I'm not wanting to look like the guy from Braveheart, with a scar across my face, or old JR from WWE with a numb face, so I'm starting to freak out inside. Before he says he'll do this, he's going to wire the jaw shut and see how things go back into place...so hopefully, it will not be necessary. I'm not optimistic at this point, and I'm just hoping that women aren't as shallow as men when it comes to facial issues when all is said and done and I'm trying to find the new J-woman. But I digress.

Action needs to be taken quickly, so I am scheduled for surgery later that day back at old Shady Grove Hospital. Now, I'm not gonna start bashing on the hospital again, but let me just say that they once again shat the bed on making me wait and even the nurses were wondering what took me so long to get there, as they were expected me at 4 PM (I arrived at 3:45) and I didn't make it up to the room until 5:15. Luckily, I was very early for surgery and was really only called in that early since they wanted to give me some IV fluids, since I hadn't eaten anything all day...per their requirements. Surgery wasn't set til close to 8 PM, so I sat bare ass in my gown in a bed for the next 3 hours, thinking about how life is going to be with my new hardened Scarface look.

The moment arrived soon enough and it was off to the operating room. I have never had a surgery before, so as they wheeled me into the stark room, I was less than impressed with the overall appearance. The walls were covered in cream colored 3 X 3 tiles, there were no colors anywhere, the walls were lined with metal tables on wheels, and steel refridgerator looking things, and at the center of the room sat a long bed under to large lights, resembling a UFO, one with 5 lights, one with 10. Two nurses were there and helped me onto the operating bed, before stretching me out in a Jesus pose with all sorts of devices attached to each arm. My legs were then strapped into some other type of warm wrapping as the anesthesiologist arrived. It was July 4th weekend, so he pleasantly introduced himself as my bartender and within moments I'm out of it.

I awoke to the feeling of a nurse wiping vasoline off my eyes (they put it on during the surgery to help them from drying out) and quickly discovered the new addition to my mouth, as I unsuccesfully tried to open it to grab some air. After giving the nurse the thumbs up that I understood her, I gave her the thumbs down that my mouth hurt, so she gave me some morphine and it's on to morning time.

I slowly awoke in a bed in the hospital, and gathered my bearings quickly. I was still attached to all the IVs and still had some vasoline on my eyes, which I rubbed at. Dozing in and out of sleep for the next few hours, I discovered that they brought me some food to eat. I vaguely remember the surgeon coming in and checking things out and a nurse showing me how the bed worked and telling me to eat when I could, since it had been over 24 hours since I'd last eaten.

Here's where things become a little weird. Like a small child, I reached at the food and utensils, unsure how to get this food into my stomach. Before me sat, a cup of water with a straw, hot water in a mug, broth in a bowl, apple juice, lemon italian ice, jello, tea bags, and a packet of lemon and honey, plus two spoons.

The water was easy. I took a few sips and all was good. I have no interest in tea, so the hot water is of no use to me. Broth, eh? Let's give this a try. I use the spoon to bring a spoonful of broth to me, but it's likely too hot. I have no way of blowing on the spoon with my mouth, so I exhale through my nose onto the broth, spilling some on my blankets. There's still some left as I bring it up to my lips and tip it back towards my teeth. It pours in through the gaps in my teeth and I get the flavor of something other than water or milky Ensure for the first time in 3 days. I want more, but this process grows tiresome quickly and I maybe make it through 10 spoonfuls before I move on to the apple juice. You don't even wanna know how my attempt at the jello turned out...and I was smart enough to avoid the italian ice after the jello incident. Once the soup cooled even more, the idea crossed my mind to use the water straw to finish it up. Hell, a guy's gotta eat.

So, I did just that, and a new method for eating has been learned, and soon to be perfected.

By mid-afternoon I'm at my parents' house and I'm learning my new routines. Three days have now passed, I've come to master the use of the twisty straw and now have my new regimen to deal with for the next two months.

• Wake up
• Rinse mouth with salt water (repeat this every 2 hours)
• Take 2 teaspoons of antibiotic through straw (repeat twice more each day)
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from antibiotic
• Drink 8 oz of Ensure or some other liquid food (repeat 4-5 more times each day)
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from Ensure
• Drink water through straw, just because I'm thirsty
• Brush teeth with baby toothbrush with pictures of sheep and bunnies on it...you got a problem with that?!
• Rinse mouth with mouthwash since I can't brush the inside of my mouth
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from mouthwash
• Put tons of chapstick on my lips
• Take 2-3 teaspoons of painkiller every 4 hours or whenever needed (this stuff tastes like shit)
• Don't talk too much, because there's a good chance you're cutting your lips on the wires when you move them around, requiring you to rinse with saltwater and take painkiller more often

Yep, that's my life now. A few new routines that I'd gladly do without, but they say you build character through adversity. It's just weird because these routines are like those I encounter when I'm sick, but I feel perfectly fine, so I'm confused with what to do. Regardless, I can't work outside (per the doctor) and I can't really make it through a full day since I'm living off of 32 oz of liquid each day and I've already lost 7 lbs since Friday night. Can't say I'm gonna complain about sitting around most of the day watching movies or playing video games...that's just how it's gonna be for a little while I guess. I'll keep you posted.

You Never Know

You wake up every day and go through your everyday routine. Hell, I've even written about the monotany associated with all the routines I've established in my life and how I just seem to follow them, waiting for the next new routine to be added. But sometimes, you don't get a routine added. Sometimes, your entire routine structure is shot to hell and you're left to try and figure out how you'll cope with the hand you've been dealt and establish your new routines, regardless of whether they were your choice or not. In my case, the choice was not mine.

I woke up Friday morning like any other weekday, made my way to work and handed out the daily schedules for all my crews. It was slightly different today since my brother had left early for a 4th of July vacation and two of my employees had requested to start 2 hours early so they could take a break in the middle of the day to watch the Argentina game. These little adjustments I can deal with. I had known about this stuff in advance, and had planned and altered the schedules accordingly. As the day came to the end, I grabbed myself some Popeye's fried chicken (one of my other employees had gotten some and it smelt good), took my dog for a quick walk and headed off to my Friday night football game.

I had made plans to meet up with my buddy Dave later that night and had a wedding I was scheduled to go to on Monday night, so I was looking forward to a nice vacation of relaxing and having a good time with my friends.

The game began and we went down quickly, 6-0. Their team consisted of about 8 - 220 lb.+ black guys and 3 really shifty fast black guys, so they played to their strength and simply ran the ball at us. I got pancaked, our linemen were non-existent, and our other DBs couldn't catch up to this guy's speed, so it didn't look good for us.

Our first drive, however, things are looking positive. The DB covering me is biting on all my double moves and I get wide open on a stop and go only to have the ball thrown behind me. Probably could have caught it, but I'll get the next one thrown my way. Their safety noticed this and shifted over to my side, allowing our other receiver to beat his man 1-on-1 on the next play for a great TD catch, and after the 2-point conversion, we're up 8-6.

I'm on the ensuing kickoff team and the ball lands between their two rows of receivers and bounces back towards mid-field. I've recovered two kickoffs before and no one seems to be around as I lunge to cover the ball.

And then it's black.

I'm dizzy. I'm not sure what happened. I try to open my eyes, but there is still a haze in the top 3/4 of my vision. I stumble around on all fours, unaware of what is going on, and taste blood in my mouth. My jaw begins to throb and I'm beginning to get some bearings as I search the inside of my mouth with my tongue. My tongue is numb but I definitely feel the side of my bottom front teeth and unmistakenly know that some teeth are not where they need to be.

For years, I have had a recurring nightmare where one of my teeth becomes loose and falls out and then as my tongue moves to push it out, another comes loose, and then another until I am spitting out all my teeth and wake up in a sweaty mess.

Was I living this dream now. In my half conscious state, I couldn't be sure. I tried to get to my feet but the haze had not lifted and I stumbled back to the ground. I yelled that my teeth were missing and scrambled on all fours with other teammates and opponents looking for them, but to no avail. I guess I had swallowed them. In either case, I needed to get to the hospital. One of our players assisted me to the sidelines to grab my stuff and I stopped at the bathroom to examine the seriousness of my condition. I had not really opened my mouth since the event, for fear of spitting my teeth out or doing more damage to myself, and as I stood in front of the mirror and opened my mouth, a pool of blood flowed into the sink revealing my lower jaw. My teeth had not fallen out as originally thought, they were about a half inch lower than my other teeth as the jaw bone between them had cracked.

That was all I could see as my mouth quickly refilled with blood and the mess I made in the Sportsplex was already looking like that of a horror movie. My parents, thankfully, had come to this game, and drove me to Shady Grove Hospital to address this issue.

You would expect that when you walk into an emergency room spewing blood from your mouth and explaining that your jaw is likely broken, that they would see you very rapidly. Not the case. After standing in line for 10 minutes, I (my dad) filled out some paper work and we sat in the waiting room for them to call my name. After waiting an additional 30 minutes, in which time I begin to shake, become dizzy, shiver (which is really bad when your jaw hurts), and think my tongue is cut and I'm about to swallow it, and my father is begging the coffee lady for ice and the Staff for rubber gloves to put it in, they finally called my name. In disgust, I spit about a pint of blood on their waiting room floor for making me sit. I was tired of drinking blood anyway.

When the triage nurse finally asked me to open my mouth, you'd swear I'd just shown her a crime scene photo, as she shuddered back and quickly ran to grab a doctor. I told you they should have seen me immediately. A doctor comes out and has a hurried tone as she requests they get me in the back quickly for antibiotics because I have split my jaw all the way through.

Two hours later, 7 X-rays, and a visual inspection by a different doctor on staff and I am left with this glorious diagnosis.

You have broken your jaw in two places. One from the center of your mouth back at an angle to the right side of your jaw. The other on the left side where the jaw connects to the rest of your skull. You're definitely going to need to have your jaw wired shut and it'll probably be like that for 6-8 weeks, so I hope you like milkshakes. Unfortunately, it is Friday, June 30 at 11 PM and no oral surgeon is available to see you until Monday. Here's a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics and the phone number for the surgeon for you to get in touch with.

Fuck you. Fuck you very much Shady Grove Hospital. Fuck you for making me sit for 40 minutes doing nothing, then another 2 hours while you filled out paper work to give me some drugs and nothing else. And fuck you for expecting me to live with my face like this for the next 48 hours minimum. Yep, Fuck You.

So, it was off to the all-night CVS to pick up my drugs and my Ensure for dizzert so that I could live in a drug-induced commotose state on my parents' couch until Monday. And the light at the end of the tunnel is a new set of routines that involve an inability to talk normally, the necessity to eat only liquids through a straw, and the discomfort of permanently clinching your teeth together for 8 weeks.

And if you were wondering, an email from a teammate of mine confirmed that the player on their team who missed the ball as it bounced over his head towards me, kicked me in the face as I dove down, jolting my head back until it could not bend back anymore, before my jaw cracked under the force. I dropped the ball when I fell unconscious.

And the day started off so normal. You never know.