Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Choice Hotels

So my ad today from "Choice Hotels" says that

Spring Break Is Closer Than I Think

Fuck spring break, just give me a couple of college aged men and the will and energy to "Try" to keep up.


Saturday, February 18, 2012

Big Fig and Irony

So I am actually quite cautious in scaring people without a warning.  With this blog you've seen a couple of pictures and read some others.  But to throw these pix onto Facebook isn't my style.  And on my blog I get to really explain, something I can not do on 140 charax of Twitter.  haha

So for a few I did drop them a brief note saying I had a "boo-boo" or some sort of non-sense.  Cola can tell you that my two messages left at the hotel were Doris Day bright and shiny.  :)

So when I told Big Fig he responded with I hope you "are being very careful not to allow scars to settle in. And please don't allow the incident to interfere with the sporty you, which suits you so well."  Some things are said so simply but with such conviction.  Fig is RIGHT.  I am being careful not to allow ANY scars to settle in.  Not the road rash, the Why Me or any other scars.  This is LIFE.  It happens!  Tons of Good and Great and some other stuff, but mostly Good and Great.  And the Sporty does suit me.  I am often in the last 5% of the finishers in any Half Marathon I've been in.  But after 16, I know I can do 13.1 miles without a hitch.  So now I've only to adjust the future ones to accomplish what I need to do for myself. 

'Cause I Ain't Done!!!

Now onto Irony

AmEx sent me a letter telling me that they would gladLy sell me Travel Insurance to handle my "Emergencies."  This arrived on Thursday.  Just 5 days too fucking late!
Aids Life Cycle sent me an invitation on Friday to join their cycle from San Fran to LA.  Just NOW, I think Sporty Spice will WAIT on his next bike ride.  That's a long way to ride and since I only made less than 2 miles on Saturday, I would need a little more practice.  haha



That's The Way It (Read I) Went Down - Part 4

So I waited until Saturday.  I have not had an easy time weening myself off of the pain killers.  I have been 2 days with only 1/2 of a pill.  And I am beginning to understand more.  But this I will come to later.

Just before I left the hospital, I was nearly ready to scream in desperation.  That darned neck brace was hurting like hell.  But the Doc wanted one more CT scan of my face to see that I didn't have any facial fractures.  So I went for another scan and that too came back with no detected fractures or internal bleeding.  Thank heavens!  On being wheeled back toward my pod (4 bays with sheet enclosures) I was stopped in the hall and lined up on the wall.  Nurse Angel came by.  She said "we needed to put you here...." I interrupted by saying "Oh yeah, a paying customer has arrived.  Yay...."  To which she answered, "Well yes, but I thought you'd particularly like a view."  Wait for it....

Earlier Nurse Angel heard me softly giggling.  Upon asking why was "Dan" giggling now, I replied, "Do you think I have time to make the Mac counter at Macy's before closing time?"  She assured me that Mac would have to wait.  Foretelling of how bad I was.  (But Nurse Angel knew me a little better.)

SO, when they did roll in the next patient, whose Mom had full insurance, they brought to me, ME mind you, a perfect specimen on college aged wrestler.  Seems poor baby had been dropped on his head and wasn't moving.  But Lordy was he hubba-bubba.  5'10", 190, bleached blond and nearly hairless.  I needed more oxygen.  Nurse Angel told me I could NOT help him with a sponge bath.  I try, honestly, I try to help!  ha ha

Soon afterwards, Nurse Angel and Sister Jetson set about to get Dan "liberated."  We can't reach Cola at the Hotel, so they work within the hospital to secure me $10 cash and a cab that will take me back to the Hotel for that amount.  They help me up, find me the least stylish top to wear (hell it was free, sorta) and they help me up to walk around a little while the bean counters get together the necessary forms to release me.  Finally Nurse Angel comes and gets me and walks me out to the front entrance.

The next portion is a reminder of how God shows up in my life.  Nurse Angel assembled ALL of my paperwork, including my prescription, gathered me enough ointment to last until Easter for my face and arms and knees and then she walks me out to show me where to wait for the cab.  Then she HUGS me.  A real hug.  And tells me that she's there until 7 and again on Sunday and if there is ANYTHING I need, to come see her personally.  One Million dollars would not have made me any happier.  (HAPPY, but Not Happier!)

The cab took me back to the Hotel, the front desk clerk remembered me and gave me another key withOUT a question.  (She also sent up a bottle of wine as a "Get Better Soon" gift.)

So I go in the room and COLA is laid out like the Queen of Fucking Sheba waiting for the slaves to fan her.  And hasn't even listened to the message.  BASTARD!!!!   ha ha

Truthfully, he had just gotten in and assumed the message was from house-keeping.  They usually leave a "want more towels....." message.  So I gave Cola a rash of shit and then we set off to "git 'er done." 

Some things take a minute.  Some things fall into place without a hitch.  All in all the rest of the entire experience was quick and mostly painless for me.  (Especially once I got the script filled. ha ha)

Cola did a great job on his 55 mile bike ride (which became 65) and on his Half Marathon too.  He did go home with a BRICK.  I however, went home with a LUMP.  There are bright sides......

So here I am today.  One week later.  Not 100% but a damned site closer.


Thursday, February 16, 2012

That's The Way It (Read I) Went Down - Part 3

Now where was our hero?  (Or at least my hero.  I only have me.  The knight on the white horse was incontinent and the fucking horse dumped on my lawn....)

A little more back story....  This isn't Sporty Spice's first time at the "oh jeepers not this" rodeo....  At my first Half in San Francisco, the Queen (real girl) and I took a cab to the start line.  Upon exiting, I sliced my knee open on a stray piece of plastic on the door handle.  Oh lucky ME.  Fortunately, the Queen had a bandage and all was made right.  In Buffalo (Half # 7 or 8), I moved to the grass behind other participants and quickly stepped in a hole and fell flat of my face.  With a loud squeal, I mean Umppphfff.  Either way, "Ho Down".   I picked me-self up, dusted me-self off and started all over again.  (From Pick Myself Up).  So Sporty Spice had been down before....

So once ensconced into the ER my handsome male suitors (you know they wanted ME) passed me off to Nurse Jesus.  Or Jessica.  She is/was/will always be MY Angel.  This woman came to me and from that moment on, I feared NOTHING.  I wasn't really scared once.   Even though I knew where I was and why, the "unknown" can be troublesome.  But NOT with my Jessica.  I asked her why my "men in uniform" were leaving me and she assured me it was to slay other dragons and to rescue other pretty lads.  Ahhhh.  She knows me!  I am VAIN and I do not lie about this.  (I didn't say I don't lie.  I said not about this!)

My wonderful family gives me such prose to work with.  And sometimes drivel and sometimes brilliance.  I was raised with:

"I wouldn't Lie to you, Unless it would HELP me."  ,,,,, No explanation necessary!

So, Jessica and I were best buds for the next 3+ hours.  Now I shall insert a photo to show you what she was able to accomplish.  This is me 4 hours after arriving.  I can tell you it was far worse before.

So my Angel, gently scrubbed and massaged and tended to me.  But most of all, She so soothed and comforted my spirit.  I never want to get into an accident again (and I never want you to either) but if you or I or we do, I pray to God it's in Palm Springs.  So here's the next 3 hours in a nutshell...

I had my shirt cut-off (read my fucking nipples were rock hard from that) and my face cleaned and then Scott took me for my first 2 CT scans.  I purred, I hope I was supposed to.  Then poor Jim tired to check me in.  I felt sorry for him.  He was the ping-pong ball.  Then Jessica told me about the double GSW.  (I hope you all know this is a Gun Shot Wound.  If not, you fail Law and Order class.)  That was interesting.  Then I went back with Frank for a Face CT to make sure of no facial fractures.  (And they know I'm uninsured.  But Jessica tells me they are more interested in ME than insurance.  And I believe her.  And I still do.  I only work to afford the things I want.  And I want a pretty face and NO fractures.)

Finally without the other mundane reporting, I tell Jess that my neck hurts and I beg her to remove the neck brace.  But we have to wait for Dr. B.  They finally get the OK from Dr B and they set me free sorta. 

ASIDE #2.  I tell Jessica not long after arriving that they should skip the hard stuff, I'm uninsured.  And that I'm SOOOOOO sure I will be doing the Half Marathon on Sunday.  (Seems I might be a boy after all.  hafuckingha)  She gently strokes my arm and says "Honey I don't think you will be walking further than the toilet and probably not so happy about that.  My Angel was right.  5 days later and I still hurt like hell and I ain't doing much.  I need to do more, but that's for the weekend.  My wounds hurts so little.  My bones and muscles ache like hell.  But I must remove myself from Percocet.  I only have two more. 

IRONY TIME:  I never leave home without money.  (Sometimes the AE, but Cash is King for any Queen.)  I had $65 in cash, my ID and my iPhone in a pouch under the seat of my bike.)  Remember the officer (Honey, Ms Kennedy) took it with her.  So when Angel asked me if I want to call someone I said, "Yes, but I don't have my phone.)

Short and long, I leave 2 separate messages for Cola.  And since he didn't pick up on the second call, I worry if he's in the hospital too.  Finally Sister Jetson, brings me in 2 small containers of Apple Juice and a Turkey Sandwich.  (This is where I fucking HATE bringing of British descent.)  I gingerly open one of the Apple Juices and am ashamed I drink half of the container.  And I do mean embarrassed.  What do I have to offer?  Some wonder what it's like be white and of European descent?  That's it.  Fucking embarrassed that I drank MORE than 2 ounces.  And I can't afford that.  I have NO money, no phone and NOW I realize I wasn't even capable of walking back to the hotel even if I had wanted to.  (I assure you that this is better being a BLOG and not a VLOG.  I cry pretty-ly, but prefer you not to see.)

So the animal kicks in....That half a container of Apple Juice was manna from heaven.  I finished the container and eager tore into the second one and drained it dry.  The sandwich was 2 fold.  50/50.  I was embarrassed to eat it, but also my mouth was nearly shut because of dried blood.  So eating was very difficult.  I took it knowing they would never give it to another patient.  But I never ate it.  And yes, I fucking felt guilty.  But it was too late, I'd already taken it with me.

This is where I will end Part 3.  There is a Part 4 (and maybe 5 now), but those will have to wait for tomorrow or Saturday.  (I will lay odds on tomorrow. I need this.)

Thanks for riding.  And I do love you!  (Conditionally. See I am British.  haha)


That's The Way It (Read I) Went Down - Part 2


So, yes I've been praying for a good blow job.  One that might just blow my socks off.  But obviously I wasn't "clear" enough.  I got a BIG blow job, but that wind-bag nearly knocked my block off, not my socks.

Part 3 To Follow

Advisory: Part 3 will have graphic "tough" pictures.

That's The Way It (Read I) Went Down - Part 1

I have been looking for a reason to pick up on my blogging and this past weekend presented me with the perfect Foil: ME.  (BTW, the names have been changed so I can torture the innocent in private.)

COLA and I planned a weekend in Palm Springs so that he and Sporty Spice (that's me) could complete a "Brick" weekend.  Cola would ride in a 55 mile bike ride on Saturday while I was signed up to do a 25 miler.  We were both scheduled to do a Half Marathon on Sunday.  This was to be my 17th Half. 

The 122 mile drive out to PS from Sherman Oaks takes about 2 to 2.5 hours.  But not last Friday.  No, four solid hours of unrelenting traffic greeted us with an ugly slap in the face.  We arrived just in time to secure our wristbands for the Saturday morning bike ride.  On the trip out I had already determined to shorten my ride.  (Exactly how short was to be determined later.)  So we deposited our bikes and gear and headed over to The Alibi to meet Yellow Hat and Technicolor. 

The quartet of us had a most delicious dinner and wonderful drinks.  Afterwards we sauntered down to Streetbar and then onto Hunters searching for a good "Old Fashioned".  None were as good as The Alibi, but there is only so much night and so much time to try bad drinks before giving up.  And with the long car ride out and the long bike ride ahead of us, Cola and I decided to retire to prepare for Saturday. 

So then Saturday arrived.  (It typically does arrive after Friday, and this week was no different.)  Cola got up earlier than I, and left for his ride.  I finally got up, got ready and took a picture of "before" the helmet, and ambled down to the start line.

This is Sporty Spice pre-helmet and pre-bike ride.  (For the record I work black shorts, a charcoal tee shirt, red wrap-around sport sunglasses and a white on white helmet.  My first ever bike helmet.  I HATE helmets.)

The start line was a-buzz with loads of riders.  There were 100, 55, 25, 10 and 5 mile bike rides scheduled.  I arrived in time to do the 25 but was no more inclined on Saturday than I was on Friday.  So I let the multitude of 25-ers pass as I patiently waited for the 10.  And finally our time came.  We gathered towards the start line; and inch by inch, we finally made it out onto the road.  (That long unforgiving and cruel road.)

We started by going north for a Indian Canyon.  The headwinds were fierce.  It was like pulling a tailor full of bricks behind me.  Finally we turned east on Vista Chino.  We had gone a little more than one mile.  And no more headwinds.  Yay! I was onto smooth sailing.  Or so I thought.  However, my headwinds were wing-winds.  And guess who wasn't prepared for wing-winds?  ME.  So long and short of it is, I kissed the pavement.  And kissed it Hard.

I can only imagine the beauty of seeing my XL ass fly through the air (or barely skim across the handlebars), whichever the sight.  Fortunately, I have no real recollection of falling, skidding or winding up where and/or how I did. 

My first memory was of being moved ever so slightly.  I remember my neck being in a foreign object and being asked to be very still.  Occasionally, a face would appear in my blurred vision asking me questions.  I knew my name.  I knew my birth date.  (Hopefully, as I hone in on 49 these are questions I should have mastered by now.)  ha ha

My first hurdle, Q: Do you know where you are?  Answer:  No.  Not really.  Q: Any Ideas?  A: Maybe Palm Springs.  But I don't know why I think PS.  Q: You don't? A: No, and that worries me.  This leads to some whispering.  And not on my part.  In my "infinite wisdom" I asked, "Was I drinking?"  More than one face enters my vision.  We don't know, where you?  To my credit, my humor will never leave me.  I looked around at the sky and replied, "Nope, I'm sure I wasn't.  It's too bright out here.  I usually drink at Happy Hour."  Yay, my first laugh.  And with a captivated audience.

By now I do remember that I am definitely in Palm Springs and I say so.  Clearly this makes them happy, or at least a bit happier.  They ask me why?  Here I can only remember that perhaps I'm in PS for a Half Marathon, but something seems off.  They know I'm fishing.  So they ask me who I'm there with.  I remember Yellow Hat first.  But then I know he's not a runner so I scramble to think why I'm there with him and it makes no sense.  Then I remember Technicolor is there too.  But now all of this is confusing.  How in the hay did I get to PS and why am I there or here or somewhere?

The firetruck captain recognizes a southern accent, on my of course, and we strike up a conversation about both of us being from NC.  This little bit of conversation is just enough to bring me to reality, or what part of it I can grasp at the time.  I now remember that I'm in PS with Cola to do the Brick and that it's Saturday and I'm now Not on my bike.  I still don't know exactly where I am but I do realize that all of these people are caring for me.  Now I see a police woman in my vision who tells me she's written a report and that she's taking my bike and that I will go with the EMS.  To which I reply "Thanks Honey."  As soon as I say it I realize that I've just called her Honey but no one else.  So I call to her and apologize.  She isn't offended. 

Now the real reality sinks in.  I am one of the 38 - 100 million uninsured Americans.  I don't waste any time confessing to such and letting them know they can just leave me where I am.  "Clean me up and leave me right here.  I am make it home."  (Oh the stupidity, I mean humanity!)  I get another nice, but nervous, round of laughter.  I am assured I WILL be accompanying the nice uniformed men.  (YUM.)  And about this time, I decided I should make my play.  I was very serious when I informed all who "needed" to know that "fortunately I'm single if anyone needs to know."  And further assured them that I usually looked a lot better.  To this they let me know they had so noted my chart.  (I don't think I was their type.  Probably too sporty!)

The EMTs rolled me back and forth on the ground to get a backboard under me.  Then they prepare to hoist me onto a gurney.  At this point I asked how many are they, and they replied "2."  I asked if they didn't want help getting all this beauty off the ground.  They assured me they could do it.  I "feebly and coyly" asked them not to drop me back on the ground. I'd seen enough of it for one day.  They laugh and hoist me onto the gurney and then into the "Meat Wagon."  (I have loved this term since I was a child and NOW I was the meat in the wagon.  Yay meat!)

They put me in and asked how I am.  And if I was beginning to remember more.  I express my thankfulness for being able to remember some things more and not being able to remember the more painful things.  I also share how frightening it is to awake and have no real memory.  They assure me this is normal with accidents.  And they gently convey that I was in a "bad accident" so it was only natural.  I told them it made me feel as if I had died.  And that was very scary for me.  Once strapped in and plied with oxygen which I sorted liked, A LOT, we start for the Hospital.  And enough oxygen cures the nerves or at least helps.

I asked them to turn on the lights and siren.  They told me they didn't want to scare people.  I then asked if seeing a Two Hundred and PLENTY pound man lying on the street covered in blood hadn't scared the other riders I doubted the siren would.  (But I guess the siren costs extra and the uninsured don't get all the perks, so no siren.)  But boy did I like the Oxygen.  Just before we arrived at the hospital I saw a sign on my tray that said


And I can assure you a tear was shed.  It seems I sorta like living....
Part 2 to follow!