I'll Take Sleep Disorders for $300 Alex!

Sleeping disorders, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. Well, I would count them if I could stay focused long enough. I had Sleep Apnea for years. Sleep Apnea is a disorder where your brain forgets to tell you to breathe during the night or there is an obstruction to keep you from breathing properly. Now I'm sure the brain doesn't do this on purpose and it's simply an over site on it's part. I'd hate to think it was an act of revenge but if it were I would imagine it would be for the times I spent watching Desperate Housewives.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I could sit down in a chair and be asleep in seconds. Nice if you're 80 years old or like to take small naps during the day, not so nice if you like to do it while say..driving a car down a freeway or while at work. The toll it took on my mental state was vast. I could not concentrate on anything. Many hours passed by with me staring into space, not really thinking about anything, just enjoying LaLa land and the carnival rides they have there.
Mistakes I made at work were plentiful, thus, why my bosses tended to yell and scream at me. It was a good thing I was riding the merry-go-round inside my head and didn't hear a thing they said. I lived in a fog so much of the time, I considered tying a flashlight to my head so ships wouldn't run into me.

I was given a CPAP machine. It's a machine of torture that has a mask you place over your face while it gently forces air into your nose and/or mouth to keep your airway open, much like placing your lips around a jet engine during takeoff. It's not that I didn't enjoy having to stuff my lungs back into my chest with a broom handle up my wazoo or anything, it just didn't work. I could not get used to it. The next step was a bit more drastic. They wanted to take my tonsils out.

Hey! The kids on TV always had all the ice cream they wanted. They always made it out to be a very simple procedure.

Lies.. all dirty, dirty lies.

Sure, you could have all the ice cream you want.. what they don't tell you is that once it goes past your mouth.. it morphs into salt encrusted razor blades with thumbtack sprinkles.
You see, the roots of your tonsils keep growing as you age. At age 40, mine had grown so long that my body had put up a fence much like they have for the lines for park rides at Six Flags.
The beginning of the operation was a nightmare. Since I had sleep apnea, they said they had to intubate me...

While.I.was.awake...

I liken the experience with having to swallow a garden hose.. and attached sprinkler head. They made me swallow disgusting things, vile tasting things. They claimed it was to deaden my throat for the operation but I was fairly certain that when the tonsils tasted this stuff, they would just get up and walk out on their own.

It was the most painful experience I had ever had. I pushed that morphine button like a Jeopardy contestant on crack, but alas, it did not help. I had to drink several glasses of water a day. It was excruciating to do so but NOT keeping the wound hydrated would make the pain worse. They also took out my adenoids in my nose. When I went back for a checkup, my doctor asked me if I had much pain in my nose and I said "no." he said "well you really do but your throat hurts so much you can't tell." Thats kinda like hitting your foot with a hammer so your focus is off your toothache. A coworker had to have her tonsils out a few months later. She told me that the pain was worse than childbirth. At least I had something to compare it with now even if it was by proxy.

All in all.. the pain finally started to go away, after three weeks. My throat healed. My sleep apnea, cured. The good thing about it is that I know what to expect if I ever give birth.

When You're About To Be Murdered.

I was in my kitchen, cooking a roast, adding spices, savoring the aromas wafting my senses when I looked out the window and saw that somebody had dumped two trash bags on my neighbors lawn. "Why do people have no concern for the property of others?" I fumed. I took another look outside and I noticed something sticking out from the trash bags...feet.

I knew I needed to go check it out but I considered that the rest of the body, and no tellin who else just might be chopped up in those trash bags. Throwing caution to the wind and turning the fire down under the pot roast, I proceeded outside to what I was pretty sure going to be somethin really yucky.
I got outside and much to my relief, there was an completely intact human laying beside the bags. Still didn't know who was in those trash bags, but it wasn't him. Heck, he may be using himself as a decoy. Some sympathetic soul leans over the see if he's breathin and "whack!..". He was partially laying in the street so I knew I had to act fast since much larger things, like cars, have been over looked and run over at that corner. If people couldn't see cars, they sure as heck wouldn't see him.

I called 911 and told them there was a mass murderer lying in my neighbors yard and could they come get him before he hopped up and started murderin.
The 911 operator asked me if I was sure he was dead and I said I was as sure as I wanted to be cause I wasn't any gettin closer to find out. I didn't want to be chopped up in those bags, I wouldn't be able to breathe.

The 911 operator was a persistent woman and wasn't gonna let me off the hook.

911: Is he breathing sir?

Me: I can't tell.. he's wearing a heavy coat. (Thus I figured the reason he was laying there in the first place since it was 100 degrees outside)

911: Ok sir.. can you give him a little kick to wake him up?
Now I don't know where this 911 operator was from but here in Texas, we civilized folk don't normally go around kickin dead people we haven't formally been introduced to. I guess I coulda leaned over and tickled him sayin' "gitchee gitchee goo" but that decoy thing kept poppin up in my head.
I gave him a little nudge with my foot and called out to him, no response. The 911 operator said she was sending paramedics out and they would be arriving shortly.

The firetruck came up blaring it's siren. I guess that loud siren was enough to scare his soul back into his body. I didn't know that could happen but it did cause sure enough, he sat up right as rain. I live across from a cemetery too.. ain't no tellin how many people are over there lookin around going "What the crud..?"

The paramedic started taking to him and asking him questions..

Medic: Sir, what is your name?

Previously Dead Man: Jaime Martinez.

Medic: Sir are you ok?

Previously Dead Man: Jaime Martinez.

Medic: Sir, Are you hurt?

PDM: Jaime Martinez.

Well, they stood ol Jaime up and he immediately stumbled into our four lane street. He was about to be killed all over again.

Well, Jaime walked off with his bags of dead people and I stood there really embarrassed that I'd called 911 for somebody that was just takin a nap.

I'm just glad the roast was ok.

Life With Father (With Apologies to Clarence Day)

Ever seen the movie "Life with Father"? It was a 1947 movie starring William Powell and Irene Dunne. It's based on a book by Clarence Day Jr. about his childhood and memories of his staunch, set-in-his-ways Father. I had read the book in elementary school and loved it. The movie is also quite good. It pops up on TCM every now and then.

I take care of my 83 year old dad. It's interesting to say the least. Old people?..well.. they do old people stuff, just like God intended. Why God intends this, I do not know. All I know is it's scary at times and other times, it's pretty dang funny. The best times are when scary and funny combine together to make you laugh while you are running for your life.

One morning I walked into the kitchen ready to go to work. I smelled gas. It wasn't from dad even though old men tend to do that...a lot. It was coming from a gas line somewhere.

Me: "Dad, I smell gas."

Dad: "I don't"

Me(opening cabinet doors under the stove top): "It's coming from the stove but I can't tell from what, it's too dark"

Watches dad take box of matches from cabinet...

Me: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!"

Dad: "I was gonna light a match under there for more light."

Combined laughing and crying to now commence...

I didn't know if he was kidding or not. I wasn't staying around to find out. When the Firemen left, I realized he couldn't stay at home alone anymore. And no, he didn't blow the place up, I discovered that when you call the gas company to report a leak, they call the fire department. I also found out that said fire department frowns on people running down the street screaming for everyone to run for their lives. Apparently neighborhood evacuations are taken seriously and you can't just whip one up willy nilly. Fine.. THEY aren't living with the geriatric UniBomber.

Now for a more calming story...

Dad has a table lamp beside his chair. It is his favorite table lamp. I know this because for the last 4 years, he has had to twist the bulb back and forth to turn it on and off. They obviously had a working relationship. The last straw was when the lampshade would not stay tilted towards his favorite chair, where he read his favorite newspaper every morning. It bugs me to no end that the lampshade stays tilted but he says he doesn't have enough light to read if it's not. In that case he really needs an amplifier next to his head but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's not so much that he's hard of hearing but that he is pretending I'm not there. However, he no longer bothers to stick his fingers in his ears when he goes "LALALALALAAA" while I am speaking. Of course, that may not have a thing to do with drowning me out. I may need to check his meds.

Well..my sister came to the rescue and bought him a new lamp for Fathers Day. He was happy but his happiness was short lived for it seemed that the wall outlet also favored the old table lamp. The outlet was pouting and would not accept the plug from the new intruding trollop of a lamp.

I told him the outlet was pining away and I'd have to fix it later. Apparently that did not register with him. I hear:


Click..Click..Click..Click

Dad (yelling to me): "Bill, this lamp won't work."

Me: "I told you the outlet needs changed."

Click..Click..Click..Click

Me: "Dad! The outlet needs changed!"

Click..Click..Click..Click...

Dad: "It still don't work.."


I tell him yet again that the outlet needs changed and I then go on to think about other things. A few hours later I go into the kitchen to grab a snack. I hear him get up off the couch cause it's his bedtime. As he casually strolls by I hear him mumble..

"...guess I won't be able to read the paper tomorrow either..."

Sigh... Obviously the project could not wait one more day, somebody would die, probably me.

Well.. thats how it goes in my house. My heart goes out to everyone who has had to become the parent and care for the elderly. To all those who's parents are still young and vibrant.. Your day is coming..

Why I Hate Shopping.

I just got back from Sam's Warehouse. If you don't have a Sam's, maybe you have a Costco or other bulk shopping stores in your area. I HATE going to Sam's...Why?.. because..I can't afford to get 20 cans of chunk white tuna or a 3 gallon Bucket-O-Salsa.
The things I could do with 5 boxes of 30 count odor reducing trash bags. Heck, I'd never have to buy underwear again. Those cellulose drawers might get a bit uncomfortable during hot summer months but what's a little nuclear heat rash compared to a man being able to float an air-biscuit whenever and wherever he wants? Dragged to a Symphony? Not a problem.. just wait till the percussion section gets going.

Man leans over to Wife: "Did you catch my rift at the end?" *giggles..

The good thing is, you'll probably never have to go with her again.

I'm a typical man, Go in, get what I need and get the heck out. I couldn't imagine having to go with a spouse. Bulk shopping is really not fair to women or marriages.

Spouse: "Honey! Look! They have 2000 plastic Army men for $5.29! Let's get it!"

Hubby: "Ummm.. why?"

Spouse: "So we could put them in the flower beds and scare the Aphids away from the Hydrangeas!"


I'm sure I could find a use for a 1500 count bottle of Flintstone vitamins.. I could give them away to people, maybe at a dinner party..

Male Guest (leans over to wife and whispers) "My mashed potatoes are looking at me.."


Sigh...there's so much I want when I enter those doors. That mouth watering case of Slim Jims, an 800 count box of Double Bubble.. but alas, they're not to be mine. Some day I'll have the money to get those little green Army men.. I'll pretend they are snipers and aim them for the neighborhood stray cats.

How To Be Extremely Popular.

I am a very popular person. The attention I get is quite overwhelming at times and I can barely stand it. It seems I get a lot of attention from undesirables, pest if you will. These pest want a piece of me. They are out for my blood. I want them out of my life. These pest?..

Mosquitoes.

I am diabetic. Mosquitoes love diabetics. Our blood is sweet. Like nectar to a hummingbird. For the mosquitoes it's like a trip to Baskin Robbins......

Child Mosquito: Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Let's go to Mr.Bill's! Let's go to Mr.Bill's! I'm gonna get a double suck with extra skin flake sprinkles!

Daddy Mosquito: Well hmmm, I don't know... you barely touched Mr. Jenkins tonight for dinner... Did you ask your mother?

Child Mosquito: She told me to come ask you... and besides, Mr. Jenkins tasted yucky.

Mama Mosquito (yelling from the kitchen): See dear, I TOLD you Mr. Jenkins started drinking again..(trembling voice)Why can't we eat outside a nice restaurant for once? YOU NEVER TAKE ME ANYWHERE!! (flys to bedroom and slams door)

Daddy Mosquito: (looks at kid) See what you started?

I cannot go outside during warm temperatures without being eaten alive. My house has been under siege for months. Silently, they wait, plotting, planning, ready to lay waste to anything in their path to get what they want, much like soccer moms in a Friday after Thanksgiving sale at Walmart.

The aftermath of an attack is another thing all together. The resulting itching is torture. It last for a good hour or more. If I were a terrorist and got captured.. they wouldn't have to waterboard me. All they would have to do is make me eat a 3 Musketeers and stick me outside for a few minutes. I'd talk... a lot, but then I'm such a chicken I'd probably talk as soon as they caught me...

Soldier: HALT! Who Goes the...

Me: (talking at the speed of light)My Names Bill and theres WMDs over at the Dairy Queen behind the Dilly Bars!!

Soldier: Very good, Capitalist Pig..(turns to platoon) Unleash the mosquitoes!

Child Mosquito: Daddy..He taste yucky!

Daddy Mosquito: Oh for the love of.....

So.. want to be popular? Go ahead and have that leftover fried chicken and apple pie when you think everyones asleep.. The Mosquitoes will be watching.. and waiting.

My Stint as a Child Star

Most people do not know that I was a child star. It was a brief flame that was snuffed out way too early. I reminisce on those times with a bit of apprehension yet would not change a minute of it. It made me who I am today.

I started my career at KTVT in Fort Worth Texas. I was about six years of age. I remember being very afraid my first day at work. Would I do well? Will I be good enough for a long run? Will they let me play with the Romper Stompers? *Stands in dramatic Superman pose with fist on hips, looking into the horizon.. Yes, I was on Romper Room.

It was a whirlwind of activities. We had an excruciating schedule of two shows a day. I was a star and I knew it. As with other child stars, my behavior became the sum of all the pampering I received. The incident that ended it all was when I crashed my cardboard car into the one in front of me and dramatically screamed while falling to the floor. It would have been fine..had it been in the script but I was being a professional actor. Aren't you SUPPOSED to scream when you are injured in a car wreck? They had to stop taping to see what the heck was wrong with me. My Mother was given a lecture by the star of the show, Miss Mary Lynn. My Mother, always the typical stage mother, got me in the car afterwards and screamed...

"How could you embarrass me like that? Don't you know that this family depends on this job? We will be homeless if you get fired! You know your Father drinks all our money!!"

The only problem with that was that we weren't getting paid and my dad didn't drink. Mother always did have a flair for the dramatic.

I was a 'has been' before I was a 'been'. I longingly look back at it now. What heights would I have soared to? Where would I have been if my illustrious career had not been stymied by my impromptu method acting? Hollywood? Broadway?

I can see myself now..a brilliant career.. money, fame..stints in Rehab smelling of whiskey and regret... I could have had it all.

I would cry that life wasn't fair but I was given a great gift. I peeked when Miss Mary Lynn told us to close our eyes.. I saw where she hid her magic mirror.

My most Memorable 4th of July

I was about 8 years old. Back in those days, fireworks in the city were still legal, before fire departments got all uppity about house fires and burned off hands. We had a farm out in what was then, an unincorporated part of the city.

We always went out there to shoot fireworks on the 4th or New Years. No houses around.. just lots of prime farmland and livestock to burn down. This particular 4th of July was like others, as tradition would dictate, we fished all day while we ate, drank, and relaxed. At dusk it was time for fireworks! As was also tradition, my older brother would throw firecrackers at my feet to watch me dance and scream. That year, he didn't take into account that I was older and able invoke revenge. He was more than a little shocked when I threw one back. He panicked, danced a jig, screamed and stepped on the firecracker to stop it from exploding. After he quit crying I made sure that every time he looked at me, I had a grin on my face. It got a bit difficult to figure out what to do to make him look at me over and over but I was out for nothing less than his soul.

Well the day passed and it got late. The mosquitos came out and my jaws were tired from grinning for 3 hours straight. We started for home. We got everything unloaded (in other words, my mom made several trips to the car) but I had one problem..I could see there were still fireworks left. Ahhh the temptation..the gravitational pull..they beckoned to me..longingly..seductively.

"Biiiiilllll.... Biiiiilllllll... we have not served our purpose in life, you must purify us with fire or we will not see the promised land..It is your destiny as the chosen one..."

I couldn't take it anymore so I waited till my mother was in bed watching TV and I quietly slivered out of the house and into the backyard with the Kings treasure.. SPARKLERS!
I was going to write my name in the air! Make circles of fire! Burn my hands in multiple places! A few seconds after I lit the infernos of death.. I heard my name being called again.. only this time it was my mother. I didn't know what to do so I threw them on the roof of the house. I had to ditch the evidence.

My mother never caught on so I breathed a little easier..but not for long. We were in her bedroom watching TV when we heard a horrendous house shaking BOOOOOOOOOOM! the bedroom windows lit up like high noon and everything in the house went dark as to welcome the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse. I immediately knew I was guilty and I stared screaming 'I'M SORRY MAMA!! I'M SORRY MAMA!!... she looked at my tear streamed face and said "huh?"
I dove head first into the most dramatic soliloquy of my young life and told her, that I had thrown lit sparklers on the roof.

She looked at me again then got up to put on her robe in a remarkably calm manner considering we were about to be homeless.

When we got outside we noticed that every light in the neighborhood was off and I started bargaining with God to take me up.. NOW. I noticed a crowd of people gathering a few house up, no doubt a lynching was in the making.

Well, what really happened was that a drunk was driving down the road at a high rate of speed and rammed a telephone pole, breaking it in half and yanking the high voltage wires from the power transformers in our front and back yards. Dante's Inferno was indeed in my backyard, but I was not guilty of starting it.

I counted myself lucky that I wasn't to blame but what was my mom going to do now that I had confessed to a heinous crime? I pretty much figured I was going to be living with a professional band of pickpockets soon and breaking into song with redheaded barmaids. To my relief, she did nothing.. strange thing was that every time I looked at her she had a big grin on her face.. and I swear my soul itched..