@MariaMelee on 2HRadio Tonight, Plus Hotel Info for SillyBring
Tonight, 2HRadio returns with a vengeance. My guest is Maria, aka Mommy Melee. Hope you’ll be there to listen and say hi. Everyone is welcome to call in.
Showtime: 10:00 PM EST, 9PM Central, 8PM Mountain, 7PM Pacific. Chatroom opens 15 minutes before showtime.
Call-In Number: 724-444-7444, Call ID 23738
Show Link: http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/23738
List of future guests can be found here.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED: To avoid browser problems (which some people tend to have with Talkshoe), you should do the following:
1. REGISTER AT TALKSHOE BEFORE THE SHOW.
2. DOWNLOAD THE TALKSHOE CLIENT.
The Talkshoe Live client works great and (for my money, though it’s free) offers a better chatroom experience.
Look forward to seeing you all there tonight. Can’t wait to chat with Maria.
SillyBring Details
For those that are coming to Sebring for SillyBring on April 24, I’ve got a few hotels I can recommend.
We’ll probably be out and about doing stuff during the day on Saturday, then going to a watering hole for the evening.
HOTELS
They’re all within 5-10 minutes of each other (and me).
If you’re driving in, it’s pretty much a given you’re coming in on 27…that’s the main drag here. If you’re flying in (first of all, you’re nuts) then Orlando International is closest (airport code MCO). Tampa (TPA) is next closest.
Any questions? Email me (or text if you have my number). Or Twitter. Whatever, it’s easy to find me.
So far, we have 6 confirmed. If you’re coming, be sure to let me know.
Filed under 2HRadio, Local Goings On, SillyBring, Travel | Comments (8)Mom Talking Like She’s on Jersey Shore and the Return of 2HRadio
I’ve gained 7 pounds. Not sure why. I have been exercising. Isn’t that the point of moving, to LOSE weight? Or at least not gain any?
Sigh.
Waiting. I hate it. Yesterday, I waited with Mom at the doctor’s. Almost an hour. With weak Edge, at best.
Visit went well. Mom is now officially without both her leg brace and the thumb brace. We should hear from PT this week to schedule her therapy. You couldn’t pay me to be in that room when they start working her knee. I’m not ready to hear my Mom talk like Hilly.
Fucking cocksnuggling sonofaWHORE! Touch that knee again and I’ll rip off your head and shit down your neck, you festering pool of donkey piss!
Today, we went to Social Security to ask a few questions. They have a brilliant system. If you go into Social Security at, say, 15 years old…then, by the time you get to the window, you’re probably eligible for Medicare.
They also tell you to turn your cell phone off before entering. Whatever. Listen, I’m barely convinced that my cell phone is a threat on a plane 33,000 feet in the air. I’m certainly not shutting it off in the Social Security office. I did, however, mute it.
What? I’ve got to get my Moxie on.
Patience. I don’t have much of it. I quit asking God to give me patience, because it inevitably means He provides me a shitton of situations in which I HAVE to be patient. Screw that. I don’t have the patience to gain patience legitimately.
I don’t like waiting, especially when the ball is totally not in my court. I chomp at the bit, grasping at something to do while I sit around and do, well, nothing. Waiting on YOU. Ugh.
Waiting on friends. Waiting on doctors. Waiting on the assclown in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery store to pay with all coins. Waiting on my meds in the mail. Waiting on 2HT to be finished. Waiting on April to get here so I can see Shannon. Hate it all.
SecondHand Radio Returns
One thing I have been waiting for is SecondHand Radio to return. It’s been months since Mom broke her kneecap. I tried one show after that and it didn’t go over well. I needed a break while Mom healed from her break. Well, she’s walking around now – slowly, but steadily – without a splint, so that’s good.
Thursday at 10pm Eastern, 2HRadio comes back. My guest is the lovely Maria, aka Mommy Melee.
Please mark your calendars, tell your friends. We’re back. I’m returning to one show a week, though. Thursday nights. Twice a week was too much.
Live chatroom to play in while the show is on. You’re all welcome to call in and talk to Maria, say hi, ask questions, whatever. Go to the SecondHand Radio page and get all the info.
Looking forward to it. I’ve missed my show. Thankfully, the waiting for that is nearly over.
I haven’t lined up any other guests. If you know of someone you’d like to hear as a guest, let me know. Even if it’s you.
Filed under 2HRadio, Exercise, Local Goings On, Rants, YOR, iPhone | Comments (18)Two Near-Death Experiences in a Week Will Really Take it Out of You
Trust me, I’m here to tell you. It will. Mix that in with a bedridden parent who needs caretaking for at least the foreseeable future, sleep deprivation, heartache, and you’ve got a great recipe for stress and depression.
For the first time in a long time, I actually saw light at the end of the tunnel. I was finding myself in the strangest position: contentedness. No worries, folks. That shit is gone. Karl is back to Normal.
So Saturday night, while Britt was partying down with many friends to celebrate her birthday (so wish I could have gone), I was busy being a fucktard and nearly killed myself. AGAIN. That’s twice in one week, for those that are counting. Both times from diabetes, or rather, my incredibly poor handling of mine.
I was on the phone with a friend – and here’s the fucktard part – while at the same time giving myself an insulin injection. BIG MISTAKE. I was distracted. And I gave myself the long-acting insulin dose instead of the REGULAR insulin dose.
Most of you probably don’t know what the hell that means. I’ll put it simply. I gave myself 26 units of regular insulin, when I was supposed to give myself 8. That’s bad. VERY bad. I think 26 units is enough for a diabetic elephant.
I knew it before I even took my finger off the syringe plunger. “Oh fuck!” I told my friend. “I have to go. I just gave myself too much insulin.” And I hung up.
Since I had come so close to death mere days before, I knew enough to go TELL SOMEONE. As in, my mom. The bedridden nurse.
“It’s OK,” she said. “Go eat something. NOW.”
And I did. But I also had the sense to call my best bud, who thankfully only lives a few blocks away. She came over to watch me eat three fucking bowls of manicotti. And two big glasses of orange juice (with added teaspoons of sugar). And half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
All this while, I’m testing my blood sugar every 30 minutes. Normal blood sugar ranges from 80-120. At the start, mine was 245…thus, the reason for me taking insulin. Half an hour later, it was 171. Then it was 117. OhmyGodI’msofuckingfullIcan’teatanotherbite!
Then it was 71. NOT GOOD. I’m chewing glucose tablets, drinking more orange juice. That’s when Mom said, “It’s time to go to the Emergency Room.” Called another friend to come babysit Mom, and off I went to the hospital.
My bud drove down Highway 27 like she was Riggs in a car chase from “Lethal Weapon.” Riggs, by the way, is the saner of the two between him and real-life counterpart Mel Gibson, but I digress. All this while, I’m tearing up…yes, actually starting to CRY (and no, there wasn’t a Blue Moon that night). The stress, every shitty thing compounding together from the week, and I was starting to crack.
Got into the ER, my bud tells the Triage lady that I took too much insulin and I’m crashing, and the Triage lady says, “Someone will be right out.”
Apparently, “right out” translates to 20 minutes in hospital lingo. Mental Note: next time lie on the floor and start slobbering and shaking.
Finally, they walk me back – I’m fortunately not feeling “low,” with the traditional dizziness, sweats, and shaking. They put me in a bed, hook me up to monitors, draw blood. Check my sugar, it’s 96. Better. After sitting there for 45 minutes, waiting on the blood test results, they finally let me go after seeing my sugar was 116.
10:30pm I’m back home, all is ok. Physically. Our mom-sitting friends go home, I sit outside on the veranda with my bud, smoking and talking. She goes home.
And I’m once again left to my own devices. I survived again. Twice in one week, I brushed with death due to my own carelessness. I didn’t die.
I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to still be here.
Whatfuckingever.
NOTE: SecondHand Radio is on hiatus from now until further notice. Can’t do it. Don’t want to do it.
Filed under 2HRadio, Body of Mine, Depression, Diabetes, Local Goings On, Relationships, YOR | Comments (52)
