Banned From Blowjobs

I'm about to tell a tale of woe. Some of y'all who know me may have heard it before. If so, you have my permission to tune out right now.

It's the TMJ story.

TMJ stands for temporomandibular joint. It refers to the jaw joint. Since it's the most complicated joint in the body, attached to the second-strongest muscle in the body (I don't know what the top one is...maybe the anal sphincter? I know a lot of people who must have really strong ones, in order to contain those large crustaceans they have shoved up there.)

Anyway, being complicated and necessary for Things That Are Important To Humans, like "eating," it's also easy for things to go wrong with the TMJ. This used to be called TMJ Syndrome, but now it's an actual Disease.

If you really want to know about it, read about it in Wikipedia.

What's this got to do with me? Here's the short version:

I was diagnosed as a teenager with TMJD. Part of my treatment was surgery to remove the little disc that is inside the TMJ, and replace it with an artificial disc that was made of proplast and coated with Teflon©.

Yep, Teflon©

You know what happens to your Teflon©-coated cookware when you scrape it with a metal spatula? How it flakes off? That happened inside my jaw joint.

This was a Bad Thing. So in 1991, the disc was recalled by the FDA and the company that manufactured it--Vitek--went bankrupt.

At the time I was uninsured, and the asshole doctor* who did the original surgery, told me I was "fine." Oh, and he also told me I wasn't hearing those grinding noises in my jaw. If he'd stayed in the examination room longer, I'm sure he also would have told I wasn't having headaches, ringing ears, dizziness, sore teeth, and a lot of pain--but that last part's speculation.

*Fuck you, Dr. Gary Lindemoen.

So when I had another surgeon take the disc out, they also found...let me quote this from the pathology report directly:

"4 irregular pieces of red-grey rubbery tissue measuring 2.7 x 2.5 x 1.0 cm in aggregate with the largest piece measuring 2.6 x 1.2 x 1.0 cm."

In other words, a big gob of tumor, along with the totally ruptured and ripped artificial disc. Under a microscope, they found:

"intense foreign body granuloma reaction [containing] refractile foreign material. Scattered chronic inflammatory cells" were also present.

In other words, little tiny bits of teflon that my body was building a tumor around so they wouldn't do more damage.

The first time I read that, I puked. They took that crap out of my jaw. Ew.

Anyhow, I got physical therapy, got my teeth equillibrated (several times), got a night guard, learned biofeedback, and got better.

Go, me!

The only thing I had really noticed the last ten years in regard to my jaw "handicap" was that I can't open my mouth very far. Hence, the title of this piece.

However, recently and suddenly...like, about 6 weeks ago my headaches came back and I can hear noise in that joint again. Even though there's not anything left in there to make noise.

So I've been to the doctor, I had another MRI, and now I'm waiting for results. Meanwhile they put me on a prednisone derivative and I'm bouncing off the walls. Argh.

I'm guessing I'll be going back to the oral surgeon, who will once again give me pain management advice.

There aren't many alternatives here.

Maybe now's a good time to get addicted to Vicodin.

BeerPup's reading recommendations

In response to Nick's latest post, here be a list of my favorite books.

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson: I can't decide if this book is a computer programmer's encryption manual with a story woven in, or a story with programming elements, but I like it. It's slightly absurd, mostly realistic, and only slows down when it's all about the programming. Also recommended by this author: Zodiac and The Diamond Age. I haven't read his others because...well, I get really sick of him going into detail about the programming.

The essential story: the protagonist, named Hiro Protagonist (yes, really) must save the world's human population from having their brains de-programmed (snow crash) with the help of a teenage skateboard courier, his ex-girlfriend, and the Pizza Mafia.

Good Omens: The Nice And Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett: The funniest book about Armageddon you will ever read.

The Deal by Peter Lefcourt: Hollywood insanity. This was written before the movie The Player and has a different plot, but similar, um, essence. Oh, and its a lot funnier.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman: The ultimate introspection book. A man named Shadow gets out of prison and is given a job by an American god (Mr. Wednesday), who intends to rally the old gods--Anansi, Kali, etc.--in a war against the new gods of Media, Town, and other such ilk. It slows down in the middle, so I'll warn you: it's intentional. Read through it anyway. It starts as a book you sort of like, then you'll get bored, then you'll love it.

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon: It's a time travel-historical fiction-fantasy-romance book. It's what Librarian Jane wishes to catalog as EVERYTHING-FICTION. Okay, it leaves out Western, but it has horses. And cows.

A former World War II nurse gets thrown back in time to 18th century Scotland. There's blood, guts, gore, intrigue, kilts, witchcraft, sex, primitive medicine, imprisonment, rape, and cows. Oh, and it's funny. And once you finish this 850 page book, there are five more books (so far) that continue the story.

The World According to Garp by John Irving: I don't remember why I love this book, but it was the first book I ever stayed up all night reading.

Preparations

I'll get up before the ass crack of dawn. I'll drive in the more mundane of my two vehicles, and park in short-term at the airport.

I'll go through security. Only in my dreams will there be a body cavity search.

I'll shop for the birthday present I should have found today. Then I'll get on the plane.

They'll serve me a flat muffin and weak coffee. Which will be better than the bag of peanuts and even weaker coffee they would have served me, had I been flying on American.

I'll knit stuff. My seatmates will watch me and pretend not to. If I finish what I'm knitting, I'll give it to one of them. My iPhone will supply the soundtrack.

Rental car secured, I'll go see Breastless Beth, and maybe a couple of other friends.

Then on to Duluth, where SkyDog has promised me my Kick Ass Cup of Coffee.

And then the birthday party...and stuff. There will be joy and sorrow, and it will be surreal. Because the guest of honor is always surreal. I think he bends electromagnetic waves in his vicinity. He's just like that.

Dunno what I'm doing on Sunday besides getting on a plane in the evening. That's the fun part!

It might involve Perkins and the Buttermilk Five(TM), though. I'll let you know. Stay tuned.

If Ever I Decide I Should Go Have a Kick-ass Cup of Coffee in Duluth and it Won't Be a Dream

'K. I'm gonna do it. Go to Duluth. This weekend. For NO REASON WHATSOEVER.

Well, that's definitely not true. I have reasons. None justifiable in and of themselves, but add them all together, multiply that by my various neruosis, and take the square root of that, and it will absolutely equal the monetary outflow divided by the pi of my family's forbearance in the matter.

Which means, fuckitall, I'm just going.

Thanks to my wonderful cousin Lisa at Carlson Wagonlit Travel Travel (no that's NOT a typo) in Fargo, my ever lovin' Jesus of Cheese, my welcoming Bosom Buddy Beth, and my gracious hosts SkyDog and Barbie, PerryDog and Sam.

Except, Barbie and PerryDog don't know yet they'll be hosting me. SHHHHHHH! IT'S A SECRET!

What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding

My friend Mary died last Friday. Her husband Mark, who was one of my college roommates, was seriously injured.



Here's the news report.

Two Harbors veterinarian and author dies
Patrick Garmoe
Duluth News Tribune
Published Monday, August 13, 2007

A Two Harbors author, artist and small-animal veterinarian died in a Pine County car crash Friday night. Her husband, the town’s fire chief, was seriously injured.

Mary K. Schlangen, 35, of Two Harbors, who worked at Grand Avenue Veterinary Clinic in West Duluth, died in the accident. Her husband, Mark P. Schlangen, 35, a science teacher at Two Harbors High School, was seriously injured. Their two children, Kaija M. Schlangen, 7, and Eli J. Schlangen, 4, were taken to Kanabec Hospital in Mora with minor injuries.

The family moved to Two Harbors five years ago from Alexandria, Minn.

“To me, it was amazing how a young couple could become so immersed in a community in five years,” Two Harbors High School Principal Robert Nyberg said.

Mark Schlangen teaches ninth-grade physical science and human and animals systems.

Mary Schlangen was a writer and artist who, in 2005, won a Northeastern Minnesota Book award for writing and illustrating “Zoe’s Good-bye,” a book to help children cope with the loss of a pet.

She told the Duluth News Tribune in 2005 that she wrote the book in hopes of helping people cope with the loss of a pet that needs to be euthanized because she saw it so often as a veterinarian.

“It’s one of those things, you think you’d get used to, but you don’t,” she said at the time. “Sometimes I cry with the owners.”

In addition to writing the story, she also painted the book’s 32 illustrations. The book’s Northland setting came from Schlangen’s love of the region and what she saw while volunteering as veterinarian at the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon.

At school, her husband Mark knew how to keep his class entertained while learning.

“Mark has just done an outstanding job in the classroom with his science classes,” Nyberg said.

A brief look at his Web site shows a schedule packed with all sorts of projects, from building rockets to explaining how light is refracted.

On his own time, he would take some of his students on outdoor adventures, like climbing frozen waterfalls at Gooseberry Falls State Park.

He was never one to brag, Nyberg said.

“He just has that connection with kids,” Nyberg said.

The accident occurred at 9:30 p.m. Friday, according to a Minnesota State Patrol accident report.

Mary Schlangen was riding west on Minnesota Highway 23 with her family in a 1997 Saturn station wagon when it collided with a 2002 Dodge Durango driven by Ann M. Brodman, 53, of Cambridge, Minn.

At this point officials aren’t clear which vehicle caused the wreck, but continue to investigate the accident.

Brodman was driving south on Pine County Road 13 when the cars collided at the intersection with Highway 23.

Though Brodman received no injuries, Mary Schlangen died at the scene despite wearing a seat belt at the time.

Her husband, Mark, who was driving the Saturn at the time of the accident and was wearing a seat belt, remained in serious condition Sunday at North Memorial Medical Center in suburban Robbinsdale.

Both cars were totaled in the accident.

He's also known as PerryDog.

Today's PeeWee's 40th birthday. That's him up there with his wife Sam. I believe it's their wedding picture. I chose it because it's the only photo I have of him in which he doesn't have a mullet.

However, I hope the gotee is long gone, since even that picture is from 1999.

Addendum: As of today, he does have the gotee. Bummer.

Sure Could Use a Kick-Ass Cup of Coffee

I'm really missing Minnesota.

My dream I just had, I was in Duluth and...oh, nevermind the details. It took place in Duluth and it was happy.

I'm sure I had the dream because this weekend is the Bayfront Blues Festival, something I used to fly to Duluth for...and I'm not there. Next weekend is a party my ex, PeeWee, is having to say goodbye to his house, and all the old gang will be there. Except for me.

I'll be in Minnesota in September, though. A family friend is getting married. The Jesus of Cheese and the kids won't be coming along for several reasons, so it's just gonna be me. Things to like about this trip:

1) I'll get to see BeerHound, DuffMan, The Boy, and Little Deb-y.

2) I'm very happy for the people getting married. I'm giving them a crock pot. That's what the groom gave me when I got married. Not the same crock pot, though. And sorry, Eddie, if I spoiled the surprise for you.

Um, that's it.

Things not to like about this trip:

1) I haven't seen most of the people who'll be attending the wedding in years...and I like it that way.

2) That issue about me being really pissed off at my father.

3) That issue about me being really pissed off at my mother.

4) The whole thing's taking place NOWHERE NEAR DULUTH.

A couple of months ago, I suggested to the Jesus of Cheese that we move to Minnesota. Being he works from home, he can do it anywhere, right? Well, he didn't take me seriously.

That doesn't mean I won't get what I want. Eventually.

BTW, Ewan and Charley have finished their journey, The Long Way Down.

Friends Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman have finished their second epic motorcycle journey.



Way cool. That feels like a warm fuzzy to me.

And his wedding anniversary is 02/20, BTW

I was just messing around on the Birthday Calculator and committed a Freudian slip.

After reading my own info, I thought I'd check out the Jesus of Cheese's info. While perusing, I thought, "Hm. We have the same Life Path number. I don't remember that from when I was on this page before..."

So I went back and checked. I had entered 05/21/1971. The Jesus of Cheese was born on 05/05/1971.

However, DoorKey was born on 05/21/1965. And I haven't dated him since my hair was fluffy (and red), I wore makeup every day, I thought marijuana was an evil, bad, sinful thing, and MTV actually played videos.

Freudian slip.

Hey, at least I didn't enter 08/13/1967 (PeeWee), or 01/27/1966 (DrumHedz AND Tommy).

But I can't remember Rob's, Mike's, Tim's, Mark's, or John's birthday. Okay, maybe Mark doesn't count because he was still secretly engaged to his ex-girlfriend while he and I were, um, keeping company. And Rob was a guido. Mike was a pathological liar who later became a stalker.

Tim and John, though, I should feel guilty about. I really should remember their birthdays. But they'll never know, now, will they?

Anyway, now that I think about it, DoorKey's birthday might be the 22nd. Whatever.

If Ever You Decide You Should Go

I went to college in a beautiful town. Not just a gorgeous place, the people are really cool, too.

Today, reading the newspaper of my college town (though it is NOT a "college town" per se; its the World's Largest Inland Port, or used to be 50 years ago), there was a report on the conditions of the bridges in town.

I'll summarize for you. There are a LOT of bridges in the town. Two deficient bridges are no longer used, another deficient one was already undergoing repair.

And there are three that are "functionally obsolete." All three are on Seven Bridges Road.

Functionally obsolete just means that they're too narrow for two cars to pass on the bridge. And no one cares about that.

In college, the thing to do was get a car-full of people, each armed with 7 beers. Then you drove Seven Bridges Road, attempting to finish one beer for each bridge.

At the eighth bridge, which doesn't match the other seven--and yes, Seven Bridges Road actually has eight bridges, plus two more that are no longer allowed to be driven on, and no, I don't know why it's named that, other than it's a cool name, because it was a cool song--we'd usually have to pee.

But during daylight hours, Seven Bridges Road is just the best way to get to The Deeps. Did I say "best?" I meant "only." (If DoorKey reads this, he'd call me on that one.)

So if you ever decide you should go, bring 7 beers, toilet paper, maybe a swimsuit and towel. And some bug spray.

H2O

On the recent trip North, my mom commented on the fact that my kids are fascinated with the idea of drinking water that comes from the sink.

"Well, their water either comes from the door of the fridge, or a bottle. They've never had sink water before."

And just to piss off my mom, I didn't tell her why. I'll just let her think that I'm teaching my children to be Conspicuous Consumers, and isn't it just horrible the way kids are today? Not knowing water comes from the sink? Honestly. They probably think horses are pink and blue, and that bunnies cluck! Well.

Here's my reply. Mom. Even though you'll never read this. Mom.

Mother, you should understand this better than anyone, being the daughter of a plumber. Then again, considering how long it took grandpa to plumb his own house (and I won't mention what a crappy job he did), maybe not.

It's a matter of plumbing and geography. Ya see, in Minnesota the water pipes have to be buried down below the frost line...somewhere between 32" and 36". I don't remember the actual number. And chances are, that water has come from deep in the ground...where it's about 40 fahrenheit. Even if the water came from a water tower and a treatment center before that, it came from a well before that. It's probably going to be pretty cool once it travels underground for a while. Add to that, the temperature outside is only really "warm" or "hot" about 100 days a year.

Compare this to Texas. The pipes don't have to be buried below any stinkin' frost line, because there IS no frost line. And the water came from a reservoir (AKA dammed up river), which then went through treatment, which went to the water tower that stands in "hot" weather for, oh, 200 days a year. Even so, the temperature only drops below freezing a few days a year here.

Odds are, the water suffered an algae bloom (from too much sun) or decline in purity due to excessive rain (as in, May through July of this year) and tastes...well, like a rain puddle with an algae bloom in it.

And on top of that, it comes out of the sink warm. Lower than body temperature, but not by much.

So...I can spend a little money on a refrigerator with a chilled water filtration system in it, and also give my kids bottles of water so they don't try to drink out of that filthy fountain on the playground--the one that's covered in bird shit.

I'd never stop my kids from drinking from the garden hose, nor trying to catch raindrops or snow in their mouths, but let's put it this way, Mother:

I wouldn't serve my kids water I that I would prefer not to drink myself. And I don't want to drink the algae puddle that comes out of my kitchen faucet.

Put that in your grandma pipe and stuff it.

PS: My children DO know that real horses are not pink or blue, and they also know that while bunnies do NOT cluck, they sure to scream when you step on them.

In a strange land

Just a couple of weeks ago, I referred to myself as a Texan. Then I realized what I said and I was both proud and horrified.

I left Minnesota in November of 1993. I've been in Texas now for 13 years, 9 months.

There's a lot about Minnesota to miss. Mostly, it's the smell. Really. Minnesota is the best-smelling state in the nation. The smell of heat and dirt and wheat in August, of pine after a rainstorm in June, boat motors and lakes in May, the Chinook in March, the first blizzard in December, or November, or October. The fireplaces in September, the wet ground and new grass in April. And the thawing sugar beet dumps...eew. But still a sense-memory, and still something I miss.

Oh, and allmyfriendsandfamily. Them too. Yeah, I miss 'em.

Hope to see you soon, Minnesota. Until then, FRUSTRA LABORANT QUOTQUOT SE CALCULATIONIBUS FATIGANT PRO INVENTIONE QUADRATURAE CIRCULI.

Hearts out to MSP

Hearts and prayers out to the people of Minneapolis, St. Paul, and my ever-lovin' Twin Cities area.

I don't know how y'all feel, but I know it's beyond words.