MJE has made her annual pilgrimage to the big sleazy, gotta keep those home fires burning baby…make sure the OB&C remains fat and happy. He is, as per usual, plagued by a litany of ailments, several typical of people in his demographic. i.e. aging men. Most of his distressing conditions are generally located in an area between his belly button and the upper thigh, if you get my drift. Not one to take things lying down or in his case standing up (in front of the commode) or frantically racing to get there, the OB&C was advised to do kegels. These are exercises meant to strengthen wee wee retention muscles, and are considered by some to be of benefit.
routine:
make sure your bladder is empty, then sit or lie down
tighten your pelvic floor muscles. hold tight and count to 8.
relax the muscles and count to 10.
repeat 10 times, 3 times a day (morning, afternoon, and night)
Well for chrissake, that’s as much time as he spends dashing to, and then wishing and hoping in the bathroom. I mean what’s the upside there? And despite men’s state of perpetual urinary martyrdom, older men are not the only the victims of this crippling affliction. Female hominids (as well as many other animals) are also susceptible. However, distaff members, many of whom have pushed large living, unwieldy, writhing and sometimes screeching creatures out of what is essentially a pretty small space don’t tend to complain about the little things. We’re stoics
Oh, then there is the vertigo. Well who the hell doesn’t get a bit unsteady after 5pm, or 4pm in my case? But the OB&C’s infirmity demanded an immediate appointment with an eye, ear, nose and throat specialist…however, rather than actually correcting the problem she prescribed the neck up version of the aforementioned kegels. Exercises that involve lying to one side, head at a 45 degree angle for 10 (or was it 30?) seconds, then repeat on the other side five times, ten times a day. Well who has time for that when you’re rushing to the john every 10 minutes?
But that’s not all! there’s the rash. Is there no end to this poor man’s maladies? What next??? Zika, ebola, a detached retina? I am sure it has nothing to do with his his sometimes spotty hygiene habits and aversion to changing shirts, but what do I know? I do use stinkless detergent so maybe he’s got an acute perfume deficiency. It probably doesn’t help that he takes to his skin with a bamboo back scratcher with the same fierce intensity of a starving irishman unearthing a potato during the great famine. But thanks to modern medicine he now he has acquired some insanely expensive ointment (not covered by insurance, natch) that needs to be slathered on frequently throughout the day to be effective. Probability of that: see above.
MJE is now supremely bored relating the OB&C’s numerous conditions and syndromes and I haven’t even scratched the surface, no pun intended. So onward.
Now, as we say here in the sleazy, is a bit of lagniappe. Look it up.
A story came across the local news wires the other day about a guy who tried to rob a popeye’s chicken joint. The workers couldn’t open the safe so instead of shooting every one of the hapless saps he stole a bunch of fried chicken instead. Well what the hell else was he gonna do, leave hungry, empty handed and pissed off that he hadn’t killed anyone? The major debate among the locals is whether he chose regular or spicy, and what sides did he swipe? Obviously he had to make some snap decisions and pack light since he was a man on the go… did he opt for the kick ass dirty rice, yummy red beans, creamy mashed potatoes and gravy or those insanely delicious fries? How about those delectable livers and gizzards…man, really tough choices to have to make under pressure. Sure hope he doesn’t regret them because they might be the last meal options he could have for a while. Parish prison, despite its primo downtown location, is not known for its cuisine.
my jaundiced eye 