Monday, November 9, 2015

Toot Toot

There is an old joke that has been around for years and it tells a story about a boy who was meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time before they went out on a date.  After the young man knocks on the door he is greeted by the dad and promptly ushered to the living room where the boy sees an old English bulldog named Spot,resting on the floor beside the recliner.  The young man is quick to sit in the empty recliner in hopes of hiding his nervousness.  Soon after that the father began a relentless interrogation of the boy about his intentions with his daughter.  The boyfriend became even more nervous with each passing minute and he noticed that ole Spot was now sitting in front of him, begging to be petted.  So in an attempt to calm his nerves he began petting Spot as the father's questions continued.  The more questions that were asked the more nervous the boy became.  As the boyfriend's nervousness grew his stomach began to grumble and growl.  As his stomach continued to growl he started having gas pains.  His gas pains  got worse and worse.  The boy's stomach hurt so bad he knew he needed to get rid of some of that pressure or explode and not in a good way, so the boyfriend let out a little toot in hopes that his girlfriend's father would not notice.  After that the barrage of questions suddenly stopped for a moment and the father  quietly spoke, "Spot!" then the questions resumed.  The boyfriend soon realized that he had not tooted enough to get rid of his terrible gas pains and decided to let loose a bigger one in hopes of getting some relief.  When he did the girlfriend's father suddenly stopped all questions again and said with a slightly firmer tone "Spot!" and continued with his questions.  After the second toot the boyfriend concluded that the father was thinking Spot was the one passing gas and since he only got minor relief from toot number two the boyfriend decided to let out a big one so he could finally get some significant relief from those gas pains.  So without giving it a second thought the boyfriend went for the gold and blew off one that would make a champion chilli eater proud (no pun intended) but when he did, the father screamed out with panic in his voice "SPOT!"....."Get away from that boy before he poops on you!!!" 

I know that subject matter is a little crude and I really want to keep these stories as a G rating, especially for the younger readers, but what happened the other day with Red Dog reminded me of this boyfriend story.

It was a restful Tuesday evening, I was not on call and it was just about supper time.  Debbie was making her wonderful homemade pizza pie loaded with everything she could find in the fridge.  The aroma throughout the house was amazing.  I could not wait to tear into that freshly sliced pepperoni, Jimmy Dean sausage, yellow sweet onion, green pepper and black olive pie.  Reed was living back at home then while he awaited being shipped to basic training at Great Lakes Navel Station so the three of us grabbed our eating gear, loaded our plates with steaming hot slices of homemade pizza pie and headed to the living room to enjoy our meal while watching M*A*S*H reruns on Netflix. ( I am expecting to receive a handsome endorsement check from Netflix once this story is posted for promoting their product by the  Even Red Dog got in on the action and got his own slice of pizza heaven on this day.  Once we finished eating we all sat back to enjoy the rest of our overindulgent evening.  It was quite a sight to see as Reed and I fell into a 30 minute pizza coma while Debbie pecked away at her computer working on her blog, Texasdaisey Creations and Red Dog stretched out on the floor snoring away like some old man with sleep apnea.  Once Reed and I had regained consciousness we were all chuckling over some old M*A*S*H reruns when all of a sudden Debbie jumped to her feet and yelled "OH MY LORD WHO IN THE WORLD DID THAT"!!!  A new aroma had suddenly overtaken the room and it smelled nothing like homemade pizza, that is for sure.  When Debbie yelled out, it got our attention mucho pronto.  Out of pure instinct I began reciting apologies from the Married Husbands HandBook in an attempt to deflect any wifely punishments that might be forthcoming for marital offenses, I may or may not have committed in the past 24 hours (i.e. leaving my socks on the bedroom floor, not putting the lid down after doing my little boy business, or sleeping through one of those heart to heart marital conversations that goes on for hours just to name a few).  But I was apparently still a little pizza drunk and not immediately aware of what the "OH MY LORD" was all about.  All I can say was that my beloved son, who will be written out of my will soon, was quick to point a finger my direction saying "It was Dad, It was Dad" and I was still trying to figure out what all the yelling was about.  "Thanks for standing strong for Team Testosterone son!"  I finally got a whiff of what all the yelling was about and "WOW!" was it bad.  Fortunately for me my dear sweet loving kind hearted wife did not, I repeat, did not initially blame me for this terrible offense.  She first accused her number one son which was quite surprising given the fact that he has been her little darling the past 23 instantly denied he had anything to do with it and continued to try to throw me under the bus.  So as a good murder mystery goes, if it wasn't Reed, Debbie or myself and given the fact that we don't have a butler in a library or reading room in our Huntley Manor then the only remaining suspect in the room is Red Dog.  But the question on all of our minds is how could it be Red Dog.  He was lying there lazily watching time passing by without a care in the world showing no sign he was the guilty party.  The mystery was finally solved a few short minutes later after our attention was drawn back to the M*A*S*H reruns.  Red Dog got up from his resting place then began waltzing across the room with his tail proudly displayed high in the air and with each step we heard a TOOT......TOOT TOOT.....TOOT TOOT TOOT!!!!!!! 

Unfortunately at that point there was no doubt who was guilty of this terrible atrocity and OH MY GOODNESS it went from bad to really bad in a few short steps.  I must confess that I was relieved (no pun intended...well maybe some pun intended) that this one could not be pinned on me but as a guy I had to give ole Red Dog two thumbs up for a job well keep from getting into trouble with my bride I kept my poker face on and the snickers to myself as she marched out of the room completely grossed out.  Who knew Red Dog was part pack    

Today's take home message is never feed Red Dog homemade pizza and although somewhat gross Red Dog is still a guy and he can TOOT with the best of them.  So I guess when it is all said and done the old saying "Guys Will Always Be Guys" hold true for both man and  Until the next adventure God bless you all.     

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Shake It Off

Have you ever been under a time crunch working right up to a dead line to get a project finished and just when you think things are under control and can see the light at the end of the tunnel things begin to unravel. Well that's what happened at this year's Howard Come and Go Christmas and oh my goodness did that stink!

For the past seven years Debbie and I have hosted a Come and Go Christmas party at our house to celebrate the birth of our Savior with my hospital co-workers and have expanded it to include friends, family, church members and neighbors over the years.  We have our dear Belizean friend Jo, who is the owner/chef of Blessings Tea Room, cater the event with good old Texas dishes that have a Caribbean twist.  Her food is so good it would not only make you want to slap your mamma but knock out one whole side of the family tree. (note to readers: I don't slap my mamma lol).  She does an amazing job and many folks at my hospital start looking forward to next year's party by the end of the night.  My wife takes about 3 weeks to clean and decorate every room in the house just to make it special for those we care for so much.  It's a huge undertaking but we love to do it.  Well this year was no different than any other year with Debbie working diligently up to the very last minute preparing to entertain about 80 or so guests.  As you have read in the past I have nicknamed our little place the DMZ (Debbie's Mini Zoo).  That's because we have had goats, donkeys, chickens, ducks, dove, finches, parakeets, a cockatiel, cats and dogs (all at the same time) not to mention the wild life that wanders through the place like deer, wild hogs, pheasant, quail, dove, raccoon, opossums, bobcats, coyotes, rattle snakes, and skunks.  It's a regular Noah's Ark out here and the one who keeps it all under control with tight security is Red Dog who is the head of our home security system.  He did have an apprentice for about one year by the name of Rosie but she thought that chewing apart our house was more important than home security so she lives with a new family now. Old Red Dog is responsible for the whole place all by himself now.  

On this particular day about 30 minutes before the party is ready to  start the plan was to put Red Dog in the back garage for the evening so we didn't have to listen to that SONIC WOOF he has when guests come knocking at the door.  I thought it best to let him out in the back yard so he could take care of his personal business before hand and when I went to put him up Red Dog was no where to be found.  He's not in the back yard.  He's not on the acreage and when I go looking for him I notice the back yard gate was left open after our handy man put up the Christmas lights.  Well, I wasn't overly worried that Red Dog was MIA for a few moments because he knows who provides him with food, water, air conditioning and heating year round and I knew he wasn't far off.  So I whistled for him and I could hear him running toward the front door because each time he gets out of the yard every dog in the neighborhood starts barking as he makes his way home.  At this moment I thought everything was cool but when I opened the front door I was shocked.  He was covered from head to tail with a dark green stinky goo that smelt like the south end of a north bound Hereford bull.  Where had this guy been I thought to myself but I apparently can't think and hold the front door closed at the same time and Red Dog darted into the house with our first guests only minutes away.  At this moment I thought I was a dead man when I heard Debbie scream "OH MY LORD, RED DOG" and knew if I didn't get him out the house and NOW it was the dog house for me!!!  The aroma from all of those wonderful Caribbean dishes were becoming overwhelmed by this green gooey cow poop and Debbie was not a happy camper.  So as quickly as I could I grabbed Red Dog by the coller, which was saturated in this green glorious gunk I lead him in the back garage before folks thought they were coming to a cow lot and not a Christmas party.  Man, did he smell bad but "the party must go on" as they say.  With Red Dog securely hidden in the back garage the guests began arriving and for the next five hours we had a wonderful time giving guided tours of our home and showing off Debbie's wonderful Christmas decorations.  Mission Accomplished.  Everyone seemed to have had a wonderful time and the food was fantastic as always. The catering crew was the last to leave and then Debbie and I collapsed in our chairs completely exhausted,  Our feet hurt and our faces hurt from smiling so much.  I felt like my fat was even hurting and as we sat there reminiscing about the success of the night it dawned on me.  Stinky ole Red Dog is still in the back garage.  We started wondering how he got into that stinky mess.  Was someone trying to be dog napped and put in the back a cattle trailer?  Had he chased a coyote or bobcat back to the Brazos River and ran into some old muddy stink hole? As the old Clairol commercial used to say "Only her hair dresser knows for sure"?  But after carefully studying his stinky green colored body I came to the conclusion that old Red Dog just decided to go waller in a big pile of cow manure out in the neighbors pasture somewhere.  It was the only logical conclusion because this stuff was every where on him.  His belly, his back, his tail, his chest, it was even under his coller.  It must have been a regular cow patty slip and slide.  In my mind I could see him running and sliding across the yard just like a six year old kid sliding across a yellow piece of plastic in the summer heat but it's winter, he's a dog and that green stuff was stinky cow crap!!!!!  Debbie and I sat there looking at each other wondering who was going to volunteer to give Red Dog a bath.  I was thinking maybe a coin toss or rock, paper, scissors but no sooner than I started developing a winning strategy Debbie spoke up and volunteered.  Luckily for me I was still recovering from an appendectomy only a few shorts weeks ago so I'm sure she took pity on me.  Off to the bath tub they both went.  As fate would have it our night was still not over.  After only a few minutes of being in the tub, I heard Debbie yelling for help so I headed to the bathroom and I was not prepared to see what I was about to see.  As I walked through the door I saw Red Dog in the tub soaking wet and standing in a foot of what could only be described as fresh green sewer water.  He was cold, wet and shivering like some little chihuahua with a clogged drain.  Debbie had used every ounce of Dawn dish washing soap we had in the house and Red Dog still smelt like the south end of  that same north bound Hereford bull.  Just as I thought that the drain was the only problem I then looked toward Debbie and notice she was covered in shimmering little green dots.  They were on her face, her arms, her hair and all over her nice Christmas party clothes.  Apparently Red Dog shifted into Taylor Swift mode after the drain clogged and decided to "Shake it off, Shake it off " with the bath tub door still opened.  As I took a second look around the room, not only was Debbie covered up in these lovely little aromatic dots so was the whole entire bath room.   It was polka dot H. E. double tooth picks in there.  At this point all we needed was an accordion and a man dressed in liederhosen so we could start dancing the famous Cow Crap Polka right there in the bathroom, sore feet and all. The defeat in Debbie face was obvious so being the wonderful loving husband that I am, I put on my super husband outfit to finish bathing Red Dog and clean (i.e. clean in man speak means wiping up) the rest of the bathroom.  Once I got the bathroom "clean" the odor went away with about 2 gallons of Febreze so at that point it was time to pull the plug on the cow patty party and head to bed because we were beyond exhausted.  

I guess the take home message for today would be this.  Even though the great comedic country singer Roger Miller says that you "Can't Roller Skate In A Buffalo Herd"  but Red Dog proved that you "Can" slip and slide through a pile of green cow crap.  We learned that you can still have wonderful dinner party and a surprise hot tub party all in the same night if you let Red Dog "Shake It Off " the next adventure, God bless you all.       

Friday, January 2, 2015

Clean Up On Isle Three

Have you ever had sympathy pain for someone when they were hurt?  I have heard many stories of men having sympathy pains for their wives while in labor.  Do your eyes water when you see someone get poked in the eye and their eyes are watering?  Mine do, I'm a self proclaimed sympathetic eye waterer.  People come into the clinic all the time with very red watering eyes and within seconds the flood gates open and there I go.  Have you ever yawned after watching someone else yawn?  The answer to that question is probably yes.  Someone in a group yawns and before you know it, everyone is yawning.  Finally someone will yell out "Stop That" like it was someone's fault.  Y'all know what I am talking about.  Studies show that it's an empathy or bonding response with others that is not completely understood.  

Well besides being that guy who's eyes sympathetically water like Niagara Falls at the sight of red watery eyes I unfortunately have a second sympathetic response that is far more unpleasant than your typical red eye.  I am in fact a sympathetic gagger as well.  If you start gagging or tossing your cookies I am right there with you gagging away myself.  I have been in medicine twenty nine years and as soon as I see someone gagging in the ER I jump right on the gagging band wagon with them.  It's almost as if two of us are engaged in this at the same time then it some how speeds up the process and the mission is accomplished much quicker.  Do any of you remember what the old Double Mint chewing gum commercial once said "Double your pleasure and double the fun" so surely two gaggers are without a doubt much better than one. lol.  

The worst part about me being a sympathetic gagger is that it's not subtle.  I'm one of those loud gut wrenching toe curling guys.  If gagging was made into an Olympic sport I could be a gold medalist for sure. I know this sounds kind of gross and the reason I bring it up (no pun intended) is because this happened at my house several weeks ago but fortunately Red Dog and I weren't the participants.  It involves my wonderful wife and our ginormous house cat Mr. Buttons.

My wife Debbie prides herself at being a loving attentive wife and mother.  Over the many years of raising kids she has done every nasty smelly gross mommy job under the sun.  I have seen her clean up some of the stinkiest little rear ends on the planet and wrestle messy poopy diapers off of those same little bottoms.  She has endured white smelly baby vomit running down her chest,  washed wranglers that look and smelled like they were drug through a cow lot (which they were I might add) and watched her bathe two large stinky dogs covered in skunk spray without blinking an eye.  She is Wonder Woman, Cat Woman, Bionic Woman, and Xena the Princess Warrior all wrapped up into one when it comes to taking charge around the house but the other day I witnessed a chink in her armor and no one was more surprised than I.  It came in the form of one of the largest nastiest looking hair balls that a cat has ever produced in the history of man kind.  All compliments of Mr. Buttons our two ton lazy house cat.  I mean this thing was nasty with a capitol "N" and here is how it all went down.

It all began on a very pleasant warm Saturday morning.  We got up and headed off for our regular Saturday morning breakfast date like always. We made our usual stop to the feed store on our way home to pickup some scratch for the chickens.  Once home I sat back in my over sized comfortable recliner with a hot cup of coffee to finish my morning with a weekly deer hunt on the Outdoor Channel.  My morning was slowly winding down and the plan of hunting until lunch time was coming along quit nicely.  

I decided to make myself a sandwich and then see how much nap time I could squeeze in before supper.  (Deer hunting always makes me hungry and  My plan was working out very well until I suddenly (and loudly I might add) heard Debbie scream " No Mr. Buttons!!! No!!!"  It wasn't one of those "you are in so much trouble" type of screams that I have personally heard many times during thirty two years of marriage but this one was different.

  Out of pure instinct I sheepishly sunk deep into my big fluffy recliner just in case she was screaming at me.  I know I said she screamed out Mr. Buttons name but from past experience my wife has called me by all of my kids names, my brother in law's name and she even sometimes goes through the whole family tree before getting to my name when I am in trouble.  All you married guys out there understand what I'm talking about, right?  Well if your wife hasn't done it I know your mothers certainly have and when we heard our first, middle and last yelled out by our mamma's, we knew there was trouble in River City.  But there was something different about this particular scream.  It was more of a panic like scream but I still tried to make myself invisible just in case.  Then I heard Debbie yell out again "Oh No, Oh No" and she swiftly darted out the front door.  Since my back was to the door I couldn't see a thing and heard the door slam shut behind me.  I said to myself "self you may not be in trouble here".  But before I could muster the courage to come out of hiding I heard the front door open and suddenly slam shut again.  I also heard her yell out "Oh No" again as well.  By this time I figured out that she wasn't yelling at me so I walked out the front door to see my poor sweet wife throwing up in her flower bed in the front yard.

I must admit that my initial thought was oh crud she's pregnant again and unfortunately for me that was the first question that came running out of my mouth (there are days when my thought filter doesn't work very well and this was one of those day).  There she was on her hands and knees in our front yard violently vomiting into her poor pitiful looking flower garden that has been devastated by a four year drought and she looked up at me like I was the most ignorant man on the planet and snarled "No I'm not pregnant, I've had a hysterectomy".  Duh!  It wasn't one of my finer medical moments to say the least and that old saying about there is no such  thing as a dumb question, well,  I have news for you, there is!

  So after asking her if she was ok I cautiously asked a second question.  What made her sick.  She told me that Mr. Buttons hacked up the grossest hair ball she had ever seen on the carpet in our bedroom and when she reluctantly attempted to clean it up she started to toss her cookies so she ran outside.  Of course I had to ask the most obvious third  question which was much safer than question number one.  
Why did you run outside to get sick when the toilet was just a few feet away?  Her answer was that she did not have time to clean the toilet before she vomited.  What!!!  She wanted to clean the toilet before barfing in it.  I was very confused at this point.  Then she told me she refuses to stick her face in a place where people sat their naked bottoms (that's necked bottom if your from the south)without cleaning it first!

  I remember her telling me this in the past but just thought she was pulling my leg.  Apparently there isn't any leg pulling when it comes to the issue of vomiting in the toilet and as I thought about her clean toilet issues it began to make some sort of sense to me.  You don't sneeze on someone else's meal and we don't slobber in someone else's ice tea so I guess it's reasonable to think that we shouldn't stick our face in the toilet before it's cleaned.  I think it was Jim Croce who said you don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off the ole Long Ranger and you don't vomit in a dirty toilet or something like that. Once again I have been enlightened by my wonderful wife.  

So what is the take home message of today's adventure.  Well first, I would say never own a two ton indoor cat because bad stuff could show up on the bedroom carpet.  The second would be to never ask the wife, who has had a hysterectomy, if she is pregnant while she is barfing up her toenails because you will become the dumbest person on the planet in her eyes.  Thirdly I would say never use your toilet ever again for its intended purpose because your wife may need to vomit in the next century.  And finally, if for some reason your wife does need to go vomit in your front yard "DO NOT" remind her that barfing in the front yard on her hands and knees might have been entertaining for the entire neighborhood or you might find yourself eating bologna sandwiches for the next several days.  Until the next adventure God bless you all.