So, there really is a reason why I haven't been able to blog for a day or so.....
First, let's review some details of life as we know it:
FINAL FOUR: Congrats to UNC (had to root for the ACC!!), but I'm not a UNC fan; only rooted for the region. I picked Illinois to win it all, so that would have been okay, too. Two thoughts: Sean May is a force, and Augustine is a walking foul, if you believed last night's officiating crew.
POPE JOHN PAUL II: As a media wonk, this is the kind of story that has me on the TV for hours. No, NOT for watching someone die; just for the development of the story, especially with its foundation in religion (that doesn't happen often, unless the letters "PTL" are involved). I actually watched more Pope coverage Saturday night than the Final Four. I mourn for my Catholic friends who lose an important figure and do stand impressed by his deft politicism.
At the same time, if he did say that conversion was not necessary for salvation, we have discovered one more step to that one-world religion that'll pop up in the last days. Sorry, folks; if he believed that, that's scary.
24 (10pm--11pm):
1) Paul will probably be paralyzed at the end of the show (duh!); so Audrey doesn't walk. She's with him (but I still think she's bad, but time's beginning to run out)
2) That darn CD-ROM of the boring hourly reports, for Edgar's sake, better suddenly disppear between two other CD jewels, say, the best of New Edition, and the 3rd Boston album. It won't be pretty if (when) that piece of evidence rears its ugly head.
3) How can you not love Chloe?
4) Does Secretary Heller get back in the game next hour w/the President likely scattered over Southern California?
5) Sorry, but, did you really think that President could fight terror? And his vice president looks like the scared nerd who works in the corner cubicle in the I.T. department who wears a bow tie. WE'RE DONE FOR!!!!!!!
6) The "faux Agent Drake" deftly played by former Days of Our Lives Billie! One episode gig, though, gets the obligatory "shot to death" send-off.
7) Nice piece of driving into the building! When that happens around here at a McDonalds, people sue when their coffee falls in their lap, the police arrest the drunken driver, and some wacko groups applauds all the Big Mac Special Sauce wasted when it fell on the floor. Then again, did they scrape it up and....oh, never mind.
8) Admit it; we didn't quite expect the ending. So, is he dead? Is the veep actually going to have to take the oath? Is it too soon to find land in, say, ah, oh shoot, there's no other country worth living in, even if we're under President Floyd the Barber.
9) MICHELLE: I thought you had better taste. He's so Joe Normal Middle-Age bleh! You should've come seen me!
And now, it's 11pm.....and we'll see how former President Palmer winds his way into things by 1am.
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NOW THE HEADLINE:
So, lately, I've developed a penchant for doing things in dreams I've never done; like scream out loud, flail arms and hit certain wife in head, etc.
Monday morning changed everything.
Here's the setup: I'm dreaming about lying in a living room (not ours, but someone's) and there are animals all around; pet animals. The kids went to Natural Bridge Zoo while on vacation w/Mom last week and had to show me ALL the pictures when they returned, so there's the subconscious reasoning for that part.
Bonnie walks in behind me, carrying a new pet; a little yellow chickie (no, not a Easter Peep). The pet rooster gets excited, the chickie is happy to meet the rooster, and they begin a moment of playful "chase each other" around the living room. Eventually the chickie goes somewhere and the rooster stops in between my legs. I was not pleased.
I was attacked/pecked by a rooster when young, so I wasn't likin' my current state. So, I called Bonnie. "Honey, come get the rooster!". I asked her three times. She never came to get the rooster. So, how do I escape the rooster before he, well, attacks? Well, here's my plan:
1) Turn over
2) At the same time place my hands on the floor to use them to push up. That way once my right leg passes over the rooster it is one act and up on our feet to walk away.
Well, I did step one.
Really, I did step one.
I MEAN IT. I did step one.
Only, in the bed, when I flipped to my left to push myself up.....
My head landed on the sleep apnea machine, its humidifier, and the nightstand itself. My head pops it all real good, and I wake up on the floor next to the bed.
The missus (who never retrieved the rooster, I might add) awakes and discovers....blood!!! Yeah!! Great job Rob! I have two gashes; one right beside my left eye, and one on my left eyelid.
So, the compress applied, I lay back down; Bonnie gets the kids ready, we get 'em to school and head to Patient First.
The Doc there won't touch me; doesn't feel qualified. Go to ER, he says.
"Oh great", I exclaim with the excitement of Ben Stein.
Next stop, Henrico Doctors Hospital, compress still on head, hoping no one will recognize me from that horrible B-Film, "I Impaled Myself On A Nightstand Scurrying From A Farm Animal".....
We sit. We sit. We sit some more.
Finally, it's back we go. This doctor doesn't exactly inspire confidence with the following two statements:
1) They (Patient First) didn't refer you to an opthamologist?
2) I've done a few of these...ah...I've done lots of these, and....
Okay. Now what do we do? I got it! Denture adhesive!!!
No, it's actually something like "Dura-Bond", or "Glue for Guys with Nightstand Problems" or "This'll Pass As Caulk". Anyway, he used it to avoid the stitches in the ol' eyelid, which, from what I understand, is only surpassed on the glee scale by having to live with James Carville. (Right Mary??)
So, the eyelid cut is smooth, making it eligible for Dura-Bond Tax Credits. Some glue there, and a realization that the side gash will just have to heal itself, and we're on the way out of HDH. Minus $150, that is. Crap, it only cost us $100 in 1992 to get Robbie out of hoc, I mean, out of Bonnie's womb.
So, glue on, eye closed, gauze on, eye patch on, and I look like the 1970's Pittsburgh Pirate emblem.
I walk into work, and the place was already abuzz. Thanks to Bonnie. Remember, they had a huge laugh last June about how graceful I was (NOT!) in busting my shoulder to pieces, so, I knew this story would make quick headlines. Bonnie didn't explain it well in her voice mail to Rodney, so he told everyone it "had something to do with Rob running from a chicken or something...".
Gina couldn't control herself. Sharing THIS story 12 to 15 times is, well, a humbling experience itself. But, you know me, nothing can be cut and dried. It's gotta be cut, rooster, nightstand, bleed, ER, adhesive, and dry.
So, the patch stays on 'til the weekend; I hope to have it off in time for next Monday morning. No driving (obviously, no depth perception), and of course this happens the week half my staff departs for New York (tomorrow PM).
Timing could've been worse, though. It could've happened last week when I was home alone.
On a totally SERIOUS note: I know how close I was to really hurting my eye, and I am very, very thankful to God that, in spite of the craziness that surrounded this story, He saw beyond it and protected my eye and my sight.
So, last night, with patch and sleep apnea mask on, I put a pillow between me and the nightstand, and a comforter overtop the pillow, and create a "sleep crater" of sorts.
Hey; a guy's gotta protect himself.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a rooster to kill.
Bonnie, don't get the rooster. I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT.....HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!
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