Allergy Shots and Tequila Shots

HELLO!!! I am trying to keep up with everything, and have in turn neglected my stories. That's okay though. Why? Because I have this (!) story to share. Actually, it is a series of stories. Will it take a full post? Will it take ten posts? Who knows?! I know I don't!

SO as you may or may not know, I have been taking allergy shots. Why? Because allergies suck dick and I don't like them. As you may or may not also know, I work a metric fuck-tonne each day. Here's a schedule: 4 AM wake up, 5 AM workout, 7 AM work (balancing four jobs), 4 PM kiddo, 6 PM dinner for kiddo, 7 PM put kiddo to bed, 8 PM coaching/training, 9 PM shower, 10 PM cry myself to sleep, 11 PM go to bed.

Okay, I lied about the crying part. But the rest of the schedule is fairly well accurate. Doing this five days per week, and then adding in the extra shit that I do on weekends, I get fairly tired. Why do I mention this? Because I take 15 minute naps.

Now I know what you are thinking: "Why did he start with talking about allergy shots, and then break down his schedule."

Well, it's simple. After getting my shot, I typically have to wait 15 minutes. Why? To insure that I don't have a severe reaction and die. I even carry epinephrine, just in case. And guess what I like to do during that 15-minute wait? That's right, take a nap. Now why does that matter?

Last week, when I took the shot, I chose to sleep through my wait period. As I am pleasantly dozing, a nurse came up and touched my arm, asking if I was alright. I said I was fine, with a puzzled look on my face. She then explained that she wanted to make sure I was not having a reaction, and asked if they needed my epi-pen. I kindly smiled to the nurse and explained that I needed a nap. Evidently that was the wrong answer, because she walked off in a huff.

That was the kick-off to what would end up being an intense weekend. The next day, I hosted a webinar. It may surprise you to learn this, but I am a phenomenal reviewer/editor. What do I mean? I mean that I have gotten thousands of students into college, or gotten them scholarships. Last year, my students earned a combined total of over $7 million in scholarships. SO when it came time to do a webinar on essay writing, I was a natural choice.

As I got ready for the webinar, I set up my PowerPoint. The title discussed "Why College Essays Matter". One cocky little shit said, "Because colleges read them, duh! Who doesn't know that?! Stupid." I chuckled and explained that the webinar was to discuss why the essays matter, in context for the rest of the application, and that I would then be explaining how the student could keep from ruining their application. I was met with an apology.

I then proceeded to make sure the camera was shut off, and then swigged some coffee and shot some tequila. Yes, that's right, I had a drink. I honestly do not know the last time I gave a presentation without alcohol in my system. Does that make me an alcoholic? No. It DOES make me a relaxed speaker. And boy does tequila make me happy. I finished the webinar and it evidently did really well.

Moral of the Story: If you get an allergy shot, don't take a nap. Otherwise, you may wake up with a shot in your leg. Also, don't be a cocky little shit. Irony is that I will likely be the one reviewing that kid's essays, and I am likely to need tequila to get through those, too. Fucking teenagers.

Baby Daddy 48: Preschool

YAAAAAASSSSS!!! I know I keep saying I'll post more, and I keep posting once a month. What can I say, life's busy. Running companies, consulting for other companies, day jobs, and kids and shit gets in the way. With that said, I am STILL HERE!!!

I want to take a moment to shout out to my family up north, eh! Talking about Canada hitting my shit UP! I got to thank y'all, too! I don't know how I would feel about an American blog, if I was Canadian. That's a lie. I'd likely think it is a way to see if all the Americans are as fucked up as the Cheeto and Chief.

(I think this is fake, but it's hard to tell anymore...)

BUT!!! That's not why I am writing. I'm here to talk about the fact that my kid is in PRESCHOOL!!! That's right! He is 17-months old and already learning! Do you know what he did his first day? He played with markers, ate a fuck-tonne of toast, played with different blocks and toys, Of course, that was after he balled and screamed his head off at being abandoned by his parents.

What did my wife and I do? We poured a shot of tequila (Don Julio) and toasted the start of a new era! My son also chose to celebrate, by going poopoo four times. At the same time, he also waited until he got home -- you know, because we needed the reminder of who was boss.

Since my son has started preschool, however, he has evolved. Just this past week, my wife and I discovered that my son can now climb up any chair (and stools, soon) to get onto a table or counter. You can imagine our surprise when we were standing in the kitchen, noshing on some munchies, and look over to see our son -- standing on the dinning room table, with a mouth full of animal crackers.

I'm pretty sure my wife and I simultaneously said, "Oh....shit."

As I walked over, my son got a big grin on his face and raised his hand for a high five. You could tell he was proud as hell to be up there. I couldn't leave him hanging, of course, so I high fived my kid and put him on the ground. Since that time, we have learned that the only way to keep my son from climbing shit is to lay all the chairs down on their side. If you were to walk into our house right now, you would think someone broke in and had and tried to do a stupid-ass, fucked up little joke. Or that we were robbed. Well I assure you, nobody is stealing shit from us. Even if we had shit to steal, they could never find it in the mess. So the jokes on you, robber-man!!

Speaking of theft, my son is one. He also has a tendency to steal toys from the other kids. Now, when I asked about kids stealing from each other, I expected them to say that kids were stealing from my son. As soon as I heard that it was my son taking things, my first thoughts was, "Good, my son. Good. Make sure you let motherfuckers know." Can you imagine how hard it was to hide the grin on my face? Of course, my son isn't doing anything mean-spirited, and I have zero desire or tolerance for my son being a bully. But goddamn it I was proud that he didn't let the others take his shit. Beyond that, my son loves the school. The teacher says that his ability to express opinions at his age is fairly advanced.

Moral of the Story: My son is in preschool and I think it was the equivalent of giving an athlete steroids. He's advancing rapidly, and my wife and I are drinking our way through parenthood.

Nasal Surgery (Not a Nose Job)

HELLO!!!! I know, I know, I know, I KNOW! It's been WAY too long since my last past. Over a month, in fact! What can I say? Life happened. I spent a lot of fucking time writing on a book. Did he just say book?! You bet your sweet ass I did! I actually am working on two books. One is for my company. The other is for new fathers: Baby Daddy Vol. 1: What the Shit. The title is a work in progress. BUT! That is not the only thing that has happened. The other thing is that....

I got SURGERY! I know, it sounds serious. And let me tell, it wasn't. Well, it may have been? As it turns out, I had a deviated septum in my nose. What does that mean? It means that I was only getting 20% of my respiratory capacity on the left side, and that my right side would collapse in during a deep inhale. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to take a deep breath through your nose, and suddenly the right side collapses in? Do you have any idea how much more it sucks when you are doing that during a hard, 2k meter row? You go from breathing hard to fucking suffocation in an instant!

So what did I do? I got surgery to fix it. Now let me tell you, I did NOT know what I was getting myself into. The day before the surgery, I had a massive tension headache. I think it likely had to do with the fact that my previous surgical experiences were related to being stabbed a few times. That sucked. It also set a tremendously unrealistic expectation of what the surgery would entail. Turns out that surgery is far less shitty, when you are not getting your internal organs checked for injury...who knew?

Anyways, the lead-up for the surgery was unexciting. I did learn that my resting heart-rate was down around 43 beats per minute. That's exciting, as it was an all-time low. Not bad for someone who had to take a month off from training! After that, they pumped me full of drugs and they fixed my nose. Note: THIS WAS NOT A NOSE JOB. Shit was internal and designed to help me breathe.

Now, have you ever had instant regret? You know, like when you take that 20th shot at the bar, and you immediately know that you just went past your limit? Well imagine that, but worse. When I woke up from the surgery, I had double vision and was dizzy. It was like being drunk, but without the blackout effect. I got home, started treating my nose (saline solution, hydrogen peroxide for cleaning, pain meds).

In the first moment of cleaning, I saw myself in the mirror, felt the pain in my nose, and thought, "This was a stupid fucking idea." I mean, seriously. It was one of those moments where you have instant regret. But unlike that 20th shot, where you can easily puke or swear off alcohol, there was no quick recovery from this. Talk about needing to harden the fuck up. It was like having a child. You do it because it seems like a great idea in the moment, and then you realize that you signed up for way more than you were prepared for.

So what did I do? I hardened the fuck up. I treated my nose and popped pain pills. Everything worked well for about two days. I had the surgery on a Tuesday morning, and it was okay until Thursday. Then it all went to shit. Why? First, I was not able to go to work. And as it turns out, Thursday was the day that the BIG boss started asking questions of my boss. And my boss had to call me to get answers. I spent a solid 3-4 hours, answering questions, while high as a fucking kite, about shit that was nowhere near critical. I think I may have even spoken to some government folks that were involved? Like, it was sketchy. And when I say, "I think", I mean that I legitimately don't remember. I remember walking around the house on the phone, but that's about it.

The other part is that my wife needed a break from the kiddo. Now don't get me wrong, I love my son with all my heart. My wife does, too. At the same time, the kid just fucking goes. Unless he is asleep, he does not stop. And normally, I take care of the kid when I get home. That allows my wife to focus on her work, running an engineering empire. But for two days, I could not do anything. On that third day though, I took care of the kid. And on that third day, he hauled off and punched me in the nose. We then proceeded to cry together - me for getting punched in the nose, and him because I put him down to cry over getting punched in the nose.

With all of that said, the surgery was well worth it. There was only one other unpleasant experience, which was when they pulled out the stints. You see, they had to put these tubes in my nose to insure that everything healed in the right place. That makes sense. What I did not realize, however, was that these tubes were large fucking tubes. I thought they were small little rings, designed to keep everything open. Instead, they were these big ass pipes, gaping my nose. My nostrils were gaped worse than the tushy of (insert pornstar name here).

When they pulled those tubes out, it was a sumbitch. They grabbed on, said, "We are going to go fast. Like a band-aid. One, two-" *yank*

I tried to keep calm, as I growled, "Son of a...guuunnn." There was a woman in the room and I wanted to be less vulgar. The doctor said to go ahead and say what I wanted, so I growled, "fuuuuuuck."

The doctor then said that the first is easier, because, "The patient doesn't know what to expect. Now that you do know what to expect-" *yank* and he pulled the other side. I calmly said, "OOOOHHHHH that's ticklish." Boy, that took the doctor out. He laughed for a solid minute, before he told me to keep rinsing my nose and come back in three weeks.

Moral of the Story: Fixing my deviated septum was a shitty experience, but it was well worth it. I can breathe better than ever, and my nose doesn't look like I got repeatedly punched in the face. Also, my nose is slowly returning to normal. I just don't understand how pornstars able to deal with it.