I've had a week of off work which is pretty exciting. I had everything planned out. Set up some lunches, recorded a few movies on the trusty ol' DVR and turned off the alarm in my bedroom. I figured I'd catch up with some old friends, catch up on some crappy 80's era action flicks and catch up on sleep. Of course, the only thing I caught was a cold.
I'm a pretty lucky guy because I don't get sick very often. Maybe once or twice a year, I'll get a little cold that lasts a day or two. No big deal. My immune system is pretty spectacular since my lifestyle isn't one you would necessary call healthy. I stay up late, wake up early, drink alcohol and rarely work out. If it wasn't for my 10 step voyage to the makeshift bar in the dining room to fill up my wine 3-4 times a night, I'd never get any exercise.
You'd think that with my lifestyle, I'd be sick about twice a week but that isn't the case. It's nice that I don't have to worry about my health. I can do pretty much anything I want without fear of it taking me down for a week. In life, my parents blessed me with good genes. In 4th grade, I wished they would've blessed me with Guess jeans but my dad wouldn't spend the money.
I have friends that freak out constantly about possibly getting sick. They won't shake people's hands, touch doorknobs without wrapping their hand in a paper towel or shirt or even do something as innocent as share toothbrushes. I never concern myself with such nonsense. I shake hands with anyone, well, excluding lepers. I'll touch a doorknob without using a paper towel or my shirt as a hand condom and I share my toothpaste with anyone who wants it. Oh, it appears I misspelled toothpaste earlier in this paragraph.
Those are the best parts about rarely feeling under the weather. The worse part is when I do feel sick, I'm the biggest baby there is. I mope around the house in a ratty, old, yellow bathrobe that used to be white. I lay around on the couch, blow my nose on some Puff's Plus w/ lotion and then throw the used facial tissue on the ground because, "I'm too sick to throw it away in the trash." I drink a gallon of Orange Juice and after every sip complain about how much I don't like orange juice unless there's champagne in it. I sniffle obnoxiously loud whenever my girlfriend asks me to hand her the remote control so she can, "turn off this dreadful Sylvester Stallone movie and watch Bachelor in Paradise."
Another thing about me when I'm feeling ill is that I'll sneeze about 12 times a minute. Actually, when I'm not sick, I'll go on some sneezing tangents every now and then but when I have a semi-cold, I'm sneezing like one of Snow White's seven dwarfs in a pepper factory. I can't remember the name of the dwarf I'm referring to that sneezes all the time. You know, he has allergies, a sad face and a big nose. Jewey the dwarf? That must be it. People say that sneezing is very close to having an orgasm. If that's the case, then I'm close to getting gangbanged by the seven dwarves right now. Let me tell you something, behind closed doors, Bashful ain't so bashful.
Since I'm feeling so crappy the only thing left to do is make a big pot of matzoh ball soup, grab another gallon of OJ and settle on the couch for a marathon session of Rambo movies. This is actually such a good idea, I hope I'm sick again next week. Better go lick a few doorknobs.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Blood Pressure Check
I live a pretty stress-free life. Things are great and I have no issues to speak of. I have a sweet and beautiful girlfriend, two cute and loving canine companions and a DVR filled with 1990's era movies that I forgot to watch twenty years ago. I stay in shape, eat relatively well and only drink on days whose first letter belongs in the 2nd half of the alphabet... with the exception of Monday and Friday. I have great friends, a working central A/C unit and a job that is walking distance to Chick-fil-A. I also have a family that has blessed me with full love and support. They've also blessed me with high blood pressure.
My family history is very typically Jewish. We eat with each other, talk to each other and complain about each other. A very Jewish upbringing means you're with family a lot. Holidays, weddings, Bar/Bat mitzvahs, Sunday dinners and especially the opening of a new bagel place. This are all parts of my genetic make-up that I have embraced about my Jewish heritage. The genetic trait I dislike the most is the passing down of high blood pressure. Well, that and the nose size.
I went to the doctor a month ago and was informed that I was "at risk" for high blood pressure. My BP was not too worrisome but with my family history, I would have to keep an eye on it. I was told to work out regularly and be mindful of what I was eating. That seemed like two very reasonable things. Work out regularly, like, a couple times a month. Be mindful of what I eat, like, don't eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that fell on the floor of a movie theater unless you were able to pick it up within 13 seconds.
My doctor actually meant that I should work out more than twice a month. He went as far as to say I should work out 3-5 times a week. Hey Doc, I'm just trying to lower my blood pressure, not join the Marines. He also said my eating habits should go beyond not just stopping myself from eating a tasty treat off the floor of the stale popcorn stained concrete of a popular movie theater chain and actually paying attention to what I'm ingesting into my body. Not too much red meat, not too much fried food and not too much beer. I don't think that's going to happen - I may be Jewish, but I'm also Texan.
The best part about modern medicine is that the doctor can lecture you on how to live your life but he can also prescribe to you a magic little pill that helps you out without having to listen to the quack. I don't have to work out or watch what I eat. Instead, I swallow an unjagged little pill as I woof down my second plate of bacon.
I feel great, I look great and my life doesn't have to change at all. I like these small blue tablets I take daily. They're easy to digest and affordable to buy. Everything is alright in the world. Now, if I can only figure out how to get rid of this constant erection...
My family history is very typically Jewish. We eat with each other, talk to each other and complain about each other. A very Jewish upbringing means you're with family a lot. Holidays, weddings, Bar/Bat mitzvahs, Sunday dinners and especially the opening of a new bagel place. This are all parts of my genetic make-up that I have embraced about my Jewish heritage. The genetic trait I dislike the most is the passing down of high blood pressure. Well, that and the nose size.
I went to the doctor a month ago and was informed that I was "at risk" for high blood pressure. My BP was not too worrisome but with my family history, I would have to keep an eye on it. I was told to work out regularly and be mindful of what I was eating. That seemed like two very reasonable things. Work out regularly, like, a couple times a month. Be mindful of what I eat, like, don't eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that fell on the floor of a movie theater unless you were able to pick it up within 13 seconds.
My doctor actually meant that I should work out more than twice a month. He went as far as to say I should work out 3-5 times a week. Hey Doc, I'm just trying to lower my blood pressure, not join the Marines. He also said my eating habits should go beyond not just stopping myself from eating a tasty treat off the floor of the stale popcorn stained concrete of a popular movie theater chain and actually paying attention to what I'm ingesting into my body. Not too much red meat, not too much fried food and not too much beer. I don't think that's going to happen - I may be Jewish, but I'm also Texan.
The best part about modern medicine is that the doctor can lecture you on how to live your life but he can also prescribe to you a magic little pill that helps you out without having to listen to the quack. I don't have to work out or watch what I eat. Instead, I swallow an unjagged little pill as I woof down my second plate of bacon.
I feel great, I look great and my life doesn't have to change at all. I like these small blue tablets I take daily. They're easy to digest and affordable to buy. Everything is alright in the world. Now, if I can only figure out how to get rid of this constant erection...
Friday, August 1, 2014
August
Today is August 1st. It's not necessarily a great day or a bad day. There's no history that I know of that happened on August 1st. August 1st is not celebrated the way you would for July 4th or a loved one's birthday and it's not a date that you would shudder at the way you would for September 11th or last Saturday when we found out that 5 Seconds of Summer's album knocked "Weird Al" Yankovic's album off the number one spot.
August 1st is a day that, as a kid, kind of sucked because it was the last month of Summer. You go to Target on July 31st and in their seasonal department is lawn chairs and barbecue grills. You go on August 1st and it's backpacks and notebook paper. That's a shitty day as a kid. As an adult, it's kind of cool because it means that football season is a month away. It also means that the blazing heat outside will start fading. It also means, and this might make me sound a tad bit old, that the kids will get the hell off my lawn.
I live in a pretty urban area of Los Angeles. Lots of apartments, restaurants, bars, and because this is LA, yoga studios. Of all the apartment complexes on our street, we're the only one with a lawn. This is great because, hey, it's a grassy lawn in front of our apartment. This is bad because, hey look everyone, come enjoy the only lawn on the block. It's not like we're having BBQ's or birthday parties on the grassy knoll in front of our place. It's just that people like sitting there. Seems crazy to me, because you can just sit on a beach 10 miles away.
What are people doing while sitting there, you ask? I'll tell you... nothing. That's right, they don't bring books, they don't bring dogs, they don't bring flaming batons to throw around. They literally do nothing. Just sit on the grass patch and stare into the oblivion. In this case, oblivion is a rundown apartment across the street.
Living here is very different than the area where I grew up. In the suburbs of Dallas, Texas it seemed that everyone had big yards and swimming pools. Well, everyone but us. No swimming pool for the Schwartz household. We had a backyard with 2 swingsets though. One that was nice and new and one that was rusty and old. When we upgraded to our brand spanking new swingset, complete with monkey bars and slide, we never got rid of the old one. We just had 2 vastly different eyesores invading our space where a fucking pool should have been.
We did have access to a few pools though. Summertime in Texas, you kind of need a pool. The sprinklers just don't cut it. 100 degrees plus everyday warrants a dip in the pool. Otherwise, you'd have to spend time indoors like a chump. Sometimes, you could run through the sprinklers or even better, you can hook up the ol' Willy the Waterbug and become the envy of the block.
Willy the Waterbug was some sort of weird plastic caterpillar looking thing that you hooked your hose into. It had about 6 beaded, little "water veins" that would thrash about and squirt water. As a kid, it was pretty awesome. We'd play a game where you got a running start and tried to jump over Willy without getting hit by one of his nasty little water arms. As an adult looking back, it was terrifying because those hard, beaded, unpredictable little water arteries of Willy would hit you in the, well, the willy constantly.
Back in that day, we didn't use protection from the sun. Didn't need sunscreen or lotion. Actually, the girls I knew greased up with baby oil and sat in the sun for hours on end. We'd get in our bathing sutis, walk outside in the blazing Texas sun and run around the yard for hours with no sunscreen in sight. The only protection we needed was our hands covering our peckers as we tried to jump over Willy.
August 1st is a day that, as a kid, kind of sucked because it was the last month of Summer. You go to Target on July 31st and in their seasonal department is lawn chairs and barbecue grills. You go on August 1st and it's backpacks and notebook paper. That's a shitty day as a kid. As an adult, it's kind of cool because it means that football season is a month away. It also means that the blazing heat outside will start fading. It also means, and this might make me sound a tad bit old, that the kids will get the hell off my lawn.
I live in a pretty urban area of Los Angeles. Lots of apartments, restaurants, bars, and because this is LA, yoga studios. Of all the apartment complexes on our street, we're the only one with a lawn. This is great because, hey, it's a grassy lawn in front of our apartment. This is bad because, hey look everyone, come enjoy the only lawn on the block. It's not like we're having BBQ's or birthday parties on the grassy knoll in front of our place. It's just that people like sitting there. Seems crazy to me, because you can just sit on a beach 10 miles away.
What are people doing while sitting there, you ask? I'll tell you... nothing. That's right, they don't bring books, they don't bring dogs, they don't bring flaming batons to throw around. They literally do nothing. Just sit on the grass patch and stare into the oblivion. In this case, oblivion is a rundown apartment across the street.
Living here is very different than the area where I grew up. In the suburbs of Dallas, Texas it seemed that everyone had big yards and swimming pools. Well, everyone but us. No swimming pool for the Schwartz household. We had a backyard with 2 swingsets though. One that was nice and new and one that was rusty and old. When we upgraded to our brand spanking new swingset, complete with monkey bars and slide, we never got rid of the old one. We just had 2 vastly different eyesores invading our space where a fucking pool should have been.
We did have access to a few pools though. Summertime in Texas, you kind of need a pool. The sprinklers just don't cut it. 100 degrees plus everyday warrants a dip in the pool. Otherwise, you'd have to spend time indoors like a chump. Sometimes, you could run through the sprinklers or even better, you can hook up the ol' Willy the Waterbug and become the envy of the block.
Willy the Waterbug was some sort of weird plastic caterpillar looking thing that you hooked your hose into. It had about 6 beaded, little "water veins" that would thrash about and squirt water. As a kid, it was pretty awesome. We'd play a game where you got a running start and tried to jump over Willy without getting hit by one of his nasty little water arms. As an adult looking back, it was terrifying because those hard, beaded, unpredictable little water arteries of Willy would hit you in the, well, the willy constantly.
Back in that day, we didn't use protection from the sun. Didn't need sunscreen or lotion. Actually, the girls I knew greased up with baby oil and sat in the sun for hours on end. We'd get in our bathing sutis, walk outside in the blazing Texas sun and run around the yard for hours with no sunscreen in sight. The only protection we needed was our hands covering our peckers as we tried to jump over Willy.
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