Huge Wisdom Tooth Extraction...

After putting up with a touchy wisdom tooth for several months, calming it with an occasional Vicodin, I finally went through my Medicare book looking for a dentist. Finding one with a name that I could pronounce, I called and got no answer, twice, but the message on the answering machine gave an emergency number that I dialed. After the phone ringing 3 times, it was answered with a hello! It sounded like the gentleman answering was on about the 5th hole of a Scottsdale golf course. I explained who I was and how I got his number. He replied that they should have answered, me replying, that's what I thought! He said, let me try it and have them call you back and I guarantee that we'll get you in today! I did. About 7 or 8 minutes went by and my phone rang and it was the receptionist at the dentist's office explaining that the storm knocked out their line (coffee break). She scheduled me for 2 PM and told me that she'd email me the fill out information. I explained that I didn't have a printer and she told me to be there at 1:15 in that case. Shit, 45 extra minutes of describing my sore foot from 2007! I hate this part!

I arrive right on time with my sore tooth in tow. The receptionist is cold and unaccommodating and I try to fill out the 1/4 inch think papers of questions that I know don't matter. After a long time, I'm still not finished and the dentist's assistant comes to get me and I hand over my paperwork with her reminding me to sign it eleven times for HIPPA. The dental assistant is determined to use words that are way bigger than she needs to to convince me of her intelligence and I try to keep up using words that I actually make up! She just nods and I smile internally. At some point the receptionist comes in and announces that my insurance only agrees to pay for ex-rays and an initial exam, which pisses me off because my tooth hurts and according to this lady, it's not going to be addressed. I'm wondering why I'm even there, when miss Big Words starts explaining what ex-rays are. With my mouth agape, she shoots away. Miss Big Words assures me that the dentist has petite hands and will be as gentile as humanly possible. 

In comes the dentist, a woman about 22 to 25 wearing a scull cap and scrubs, with a mask and the only thing I can see is this really huge pimple just under her eye and wonder if she can see over that thing. She says nothing, gives me an injection of numbing agent and we wait for this magic drug to take effect. I'm always afraid during an extraction that the Novocaine with not fully work that the dentist will have climb on top of me to hold me down, while I scream, but that's never happened. The following is the dentist's entire dialogue with me: "Open wide." I do and Miss Big Words announces the tooth is out! I feel absolutely nothing! My dentist vacates the room, probably to put hot compresses on that horrid pimple and I never see her again. A little confused, I show Miss Big Words the texting that I've been doing with Brad, my son and Karen, my friend. It says, "here it comes, she's got a pliers in her hand!" Brad replies, "You and your crazy weight loss ideas." I go to the desk, settle up and leave... No pain prescription or instructions besides a piece of paper saying not to smoke or spit tobacco for a week.

I'm only 10 minutes from home with a half frozen face and all I can think of is Kramer on Seinfeld and the episode of him going to the dentist, then trying to drink water and the water dripping all over his chin and chest! I burst out laughing, all alone. When I get home, I sit back in my reclining chair and fall asleep for about an hour and when I awaken the numbing agent has worn off and my face feels like I've just been shot with a 357 Magnum. Holy Shit! I take a Vicodin and thank my lucky stars I have them, then another and assume the stoned position for the rest of the evening, that can be verified my the people I spoke with, but guess what? No more wisdom tooth!

Ashley Madison Cheating Service...

With all of the hoopla about the Ashley Madison Cheating Service that's been publicized lately, it kind of reminds me of a story that happened to me personally about 8 years ago. I was totally enamoured with a woman that I'd met on Match.com. She was quite a bit younger than me and according to the information offered on the site, divorced, but that turned out to be an exaggeration, she was separated. We chatted on the phone for months before actually meeting, as she was currently occupied in that area and wanted to see what happened with her current love, that turned out to be married cowboy that lived in Wyoming. Turned out it was merely a fantasy love. Didn't really have the wings to fly. So I came rushing in like a customer in a bakery with my number in my hand, NEXT... 

I wined her and dined her and slowly was falling for her and she, I, or so I thought. We spent hours, then days together, only coming up for air when one of our respective dogs needed something. I had the Dynamic Duo and she had an old, old lab that lived her her walk-in closet. Also, it turned out that she was still going through a heart breaking divorce because she supposedly discovered her beloved husband was cheating on her and a member of Ashley Madison's. I felt sorry for her and comforted her and listened to her stories of woe. 

One day while bored, I received a piece of spam mail from the cheaters service and just out of curiosity I opened it and it advertised a dating service for the discreet. Having heard of this site only from my girlfriend, I was even more curious. I opened it and learned that the only way that I could see the members was to become one! So my plan was to join the service, then resign after I got a chance to look at slutty ladies with no character. Frankly, I didn't know what I was going to see. I signed up and now I thought I'd be required to supply a picture, so I supplied a bad picture with the intention of removing it almost immediately. Voila! I was in! I looked at members, some fat, some not, some pretty average while others were just pretty when suddenly without warning, my next click was my wonderful girlfriend! I cannot tell you the emotions that I went through, scared, jolted, shocked, sad, disappointed and disillusioned were only some of them. With a tear in my eye, I deleted all of my information I had supplied and was sorry I ever inquired about this site. At some point I casually confronted my girl about it, you knew I would! She claimed that she only filled out that stuff because she wanted to check on her husband and meant to delete it but must have forgotten. My girlfriend had a lot of trouble with telling the truth, as it turned out. Kind of like everything she ever told me was one sort of a lie or another. I learned and it only took me about 5 years!

On a brighter note, something happened last week that reinforces why I love the people of Arizona. I bought some new batteries at The Home Depot for my key fob, the gizmo you use for unlocking your car doors. As I get older, I get blinder and never bring reading glasses anywhere almost ever. So I look at the selection and decide that the 2032's are perfect in size after opened my fob and looking. I buy them for less than $6 and take them home. To my surprise and only after using my glasses, I see that the one that came out of my fob has a groove around the edge of it and my new 2032's won't fit even a little! Damn! They really didn't cost enough to bother to return them, but since I have to go back to get the right ones, 2016's, I may as well get credit for the wrong ones, but they've been opened! I felt awful. The following day, I tape the old battery's package closed again and hope no one notices. I go to the return desk and the gentleman is the most helpful he can possibly be. I gave him a full 10 stars. He wants to go with me to the battery counter to help me, but the people lined up behind me would probably frown on that. I leave him and walk towards the battery section where another helpful employee asks if I'm finding everything I need. I ask him if he knows anything about the batteries and he accepts my challenge. We walk and I briefly tell him my problem. He asks for my fob and I give it to him thankfully (This guy has young eyes). He squints and says it calls for a 2016 and he grabs one off the rack and opens it and puts it inside my compromised fob. I thank him and he says, let's go see if it works, where are you parked? I point to my car that is pretty close and we approach my vehicle. He tries it and my doors open and my lights flash. I thank him emphatically and then say, it would be easy for my to get into my car now and thank you, but under the circumstances we have to go inside because I've never paid you for these batteries and smiled. (Get ready) He says, there's no charge for these, we're sorry for all the trouble you've had and the batteries are a present from Home Depot! A tiny tear forms in my eye, just a little one and I cannot believe my ears as I thank him for his excellent service. Can you believe it??? He turns and leaves and I'm NOT arrested in the parking lot!

End of an Era and almost a Finger...

Today I had allowed for the dismantling of my not so trusty leaf blower that has aged right along with it's owner of over 23 years. I remember purchasing it at Home Depot before they were the mega giant of today. When the employees stayed there long enough for you to get to know them a little. The year was 1992 and I had just purchased my dream house in North Scottsdale and spent a small fortune on landscaping. I was obligated to maintain that landscaping, thus the purchase of my leaf blower. It was an electric one, so naturally I bought a 100 foot electric cord to go along with it and a spool for the cord. So, for 23 plus years the blower was part of the Fisher family and was used at least once a week for that period. 

At some point retirement raised it's smiling head and the leaf blower was badly in need of a rest, along with the operator. We retired to a rental house in the same general area, with way less landscaping to maintain however the backyard is loaded with fruit and nut trees that shed with every breeze. The problem was that the old leaf blower was enjoying retirement and didn't want to go back to work, even when prompted. So I took her apart and talked to her in a gentle understanding fashion and explained that it was just temporary. I'd say that this happened about 4 or 5 different times in the last 3 or 4 years. In the interim period, in order to perform my renters obligation, I borrowed my son's leaf blower, one of those gas motored fancy new jobs that I never was able to get started. He came over and started it for me and showed me how. You have to pull the cord about 20 to 30 times while adjusting the choke to the required position that has never been determined and recite a variety of swear words, all simultaneously. I suggested he take his blower home, that mine is a G rated yard.

So after all that, I decided to rake up my leaves and don't misunderstand me, there was a huge volume of leaves. Enough to completely fill the huge dumpster, so far 4 times! Plus, I'm raking leaves off of rocks and stones, so along with the leaves come the stones and today I decided to try to blow the stones back where they belong, so the project of dismantling the leaf blower became imminent.

Although I've had this puppy apart several times, this time she was pretty stubborn, like asking a debutante to go camping. She must have fused herself together. (The blower, not the debutante) Now I'm pretty handy, all things considered. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being a Chimpanzee and 10 being an accomplished handyman/plumber,I'm about a 2! I even tried prying her open after verifying that I had removed all of the 10 screws, but she snapped back and took the tip of my pinky along with her. Now I'm bleeding like a butchered hog and my priorities have changed. Clean up the blood and try to stop the bleeding, all the while thinking that the leaf blower's time has come and the very dumpster that she helped me fill with leaves, will be her final resting place. May she rest in pieces...

Rough Day at the Doctor's Office...

I seldom get into trouble with people, but sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself. I was in a bad mood to begin with. I had a 4 PM appointment with my cardiologist that I was sure, was just revenue builder for the medical organization as I had just been there 3 weeks earlier. After a 20 minute ride on the 101 in rush hour traffic, my exit at Indian School Road was closed for construction and I had to take Thomas Rd as an alternative route and the drivers on Thomas are a whole other thing. Rude cutter offers and cell phone talkers. I was literally taken aback watching some woman in a BMW cut off as many people as she could. This all builds an anxiety level to a peak. Arriving right on time, I check in and sit down. The office is almost empty with the exception of what appears to be a new patient filling out a lengthy questionnaire with his wife assisting him. Suddenly this fat woman about 60 plus years old, with bright yellow hair looks up from her work and says, Mel. Sitting about 8 feet in front of her I reply, yes. She holds up a 2 inch thick packet of papers that she wants me to fill out. I say to her, I'm not filling that out because I've been a patient here for 8 years and was just here 3 weeks ago and nothing has changed since then. She replies, "Everyone fills this out"! Again, I tell her, no, I'm not a new patient. Then she asks me who my primary care physician is. By this time I've walked over to her complaining that I had to get up for nothing. (See, she's pissed me off) I explain that I don't have a primary care physician and my insurance company doesn't require one, that I called a few weeks ago for another provider and it was verified. Then I said, apologetically, "Am I giving you a hard time?" She now yells, YES, and she doesn't appreciate it this late in the day! At the same volume I reply, ME TOO! 

Now it's been my experience that people that hold the job of receptionist are not required to hold any degrees or display a very high IQ, as displayed by my first wife, as that was her career for the 3 months after we got married until she got pregnant, then immediately retired to expectant mother, but I digress.

Just then, one of the girls from the inner office came out and motioned to me with a giant smile. I know and love this girl, she always plays with me when I'm there and legitimately seems to enjoy me, as I do her. I ask her if she can fire fat lady for me and she laughs and asks what happened. I briefly tell her, while she laughs and says I need to talk to the doctor to accomplish that. I think that by the time I left, I'd explained that I wanted fat yellow haired lady fired to everyone that worked there and they all agreed she had a bad attitude, but I'm sure nothing will be done about it because lets face it, everyone has a bad day! She's been there a long time and if I recall, she's the same lady that took care of my when I first started going there 8 years ago. I walked in and tried to check in. She asked me my name and after a couple of minutes, she looked up and said she has no record of me, do I go by another name? I said, yes, Madonna! Evidently, intelligence doesn't display itself in her family.

Does a Recliner have 9 Lives?

                                            She's Baaaack...

Some time has now gone by since my psychopathic recliner tried to take my life. It sat around my living room in it's compromised condition until Monday, when I decided to take it down to the road for trash pick up. First it was the frame that took it's last walk down the driveway to oblivion, then I returned for the leather insert. As I lifted this expensive piece of leather that has been with me since 1992 when I purchased it at an upscale Scottsdale furniture store. The price of $500 comes to mind because remembering numbers is my game. In today's money market that would equal about $900 for this lovely piece of craftsmanship. I started thinking. This beautiful chair that I'm really very fond of and I have been together for 23 years and cruised through life together for many, many, emotional miles. I've had it welded on 2 different occasions. First for $50 and then soon after for $100. Why not give it one more reprieve? Putting down my hunk of burning love (the chair), I ask Siri if she knows of a welder here in Scottsdale and she immediately blurts out an answer. Paul's Mobile Welding and then she asked me if I wanted her to dial the number for me. I said, yes! Paul answered with a casual, hello and I got the impression that he was at home watching the Dr. Phil Show. I told him of my predicament and he told me that he gets $150 minimum for coming out. Laughing I told him that in that case, Old Bessie, the recliner is going to the curb! Paul then told me of a friend of his that has a shop at 25th St. and Bell that if I'm willing to go there, he'll do it while I wait. He even gave me the phone number, 602 867-2729. I called and Tex answered, Allstate Steel with an old country boy accent. He said his minimum was $32.50 and he gets $65 an hour. I thought how much could it be to weld a 1" pipe that broke?

For me it was a straight shot up the 101, about 15 minutes total time. He was located behind the pawn shop that an old friend of mine formerly owned. I pulled in with no difficulty and Tex was just like his name suggests. Tall guy, about 6' 1" with a ten gallon hat and an accent from somewhere in Texas, maybe New Mexico. He was the owner and worked everyday of his life, or so it seemed. He operated out of an old trailer and was as friendly and warm as anyone I've ever met. He walked me outside to look for Ernesto, the welder. Only Ernesto was nowhere to be found. Tex said he must have gone home, can I leave it with him? Naturally I agreed and left him with my name and phone number. It was about 110 degrees and I was ready to get back into my air conditioned car. I left.

That night I couldn't sleep. One of the many things on my mind was the fact that I never asked Tex, how much. I pictured him telling me that it took a lot longer than he figured and it was be a full $65. Then as the clock ticked away I thought, what if he claimed it took 2 full hours and he wanted $130. I should have asked him to commit to a price, what is wrong with me? I've been around long enough to know that you just don't trust a total stranger to be honest with you. What is this 1955? I finally fell asleep with the aid of a sleeping pill. The next day I waited for them to call and tell me it was ready but that never happened and I kind of forgot about it. I already had decided that if it was more than $65 I was going to tell him to just keep it or charge me a fair price.

Now it's Wednesday afternoon when I finally call. His assistant, probably his wife answers and I tell her my name and ask if my chair is ready. She says, yes! I take a deep breath and ask how much the damage is. She says, hold on while I look. My mind is going wild now. I'm preparing my dissertation for when she tells me it is $400! She comes back to the phone and says, $15. A tear forms in my eye, as it is while I write this and all I can say is, why? She replies, it didn't take very long. I begin to argue (stupid, stupid, stupid). I was told that there was a minimum of $32.50 for any work at all. She says, you'll have to talk to Tex. Embarrassed and ashamed I drive over there to pick up my old friend, Bessie. When I get there Tex is behind the counter along with the lady. She takes out an invoice and says, $15. I give her $20 and ask her to please keep the change. Tex hears this and hands me a $5 bill and asks me to go out back and please give the money to Ernesto. I do. When I return, they have already put the chair into my car and said goodbye. I immediately called my son Brad and asked him if he had anything that needed welding. He thought for a second and said, no. I told him to go break something!

It is so refreshing in this society to find someone in business who is still honest and old school. Tex explained it to me this way. He said, I've been in business a long time, I live a good lifestyle and I have everything I need and I do it by operating like this...

Suicide by Recliner...

                                                               Mmmm......

Friday seemed like it was programmed against me. It started with a trip to the grocery story, one of my most hated tasks. I got married 3 different times, just so that I wouldn't have to do this hateful task, yet where do I wind up, just to eat? When I arrive home, I put one rack of ribs (on sale) in the freezer and leave the second one out to put on the grill. I light the grill and turn it to low and proceed to put my mouth watering rack in place and make a mental note to turn them in about 15 minutes. I remember and do it.

About 10 minutes later the phone rings and it's my friend in Chicago calling for a little FaceTime. After talking for about 30 minutes and me completely forgetting that I have ribs on the grill, the door bell rings and it's 2 pretty young girls that want to sell me Century-Link. I introduce them both to Karen on the phone and they chat briefly, when I ask if they could possibly come back later while I finish my chat with Karen. The 21 year old girls leave. Karen and I complete our conversation and about a minute later, my son Brad calls. We laugh, we cry and we talk for about 25 minutes when I realize my ribs are on the grill, (I hope). I hang up and run outside to open my grill but see an unusual light glowing in the dark and it looks like there is a small fire inside of my grill. Yep, it is a fire and it's still ablaze! My ribs are wholly engulfed in flames!!! It turns out that my ribs left this planet a long time ago, this was just the memory of the ribs aflame. All carbon. I'm thinking maybe tuna for dinner...

I wrestle up a tuna sandwich and eat it while relaxing in my trusty old reclining chair, when suddenly I find my self laying backwards on the floor, wedged into the corner of the room with my chair blocking my escape route! I immediately think of Life Alert! "I've fallen and I can't get up." I think of calling 911 but I'm laughing too hard, I've never been kidnapped by a chair before and don't have a clue about protocol.

 Somehow, while laughing like a baboon with my feet in the air, me on my back with the chair or what's left of it, blocking me into the corner, I somehow crawl out and get up to investigate how this happened. It seems that the base that the chair sits on snapped off and just dumped me in the direction of the least resistance, which was backwards. Just then there was a ding on my phone to indicate a message and it's some woman in Florida that wants to know how my day was going, Grrrr.....

She Should have Taken the Bus...

The image in my mind is as if it were yesterday. The year was 1999 and if anyone knew of the area in Phoenix, AZ referred to as Van Buren Street, you recognized it as the area for prostitution, where drugs were available 24 hours a day, in addition to the ''buy here pay here" automobile cortex. I was in the automobile business and in order for me to maintain my business license, I was required to maintain an address within certain C-3 properties in this specified area. Therefore, I introduce to you, AIRPORT ENTERPRISES. Yours truly was the president and CEO. My property included an office along with a 3 car garage that I referred to as the compound. To remain within the law, I had to maintain at least 3 cars at the location, which I did. Right down the street from me was Maaco, that was owned and operated by a friend of mine, where I also had a lot cars repainted, if they needed it? One day while waiting to pull out into traffic from Maaco, I was forced to respond to a street walker that approached me and plainly asked me if she she could perform oral sex on me? I mean I was waiting to make a left! Not knowing what to respond, I simply and briefly answered that, "No sorry, I just had some!" With a confused look on her face, I pulled away, glad to have a break in traffic.

So one day around 5 PM, I'm leaving my office, that by the way, was in a gated parking lot and I pull out past the gate into the driveway and wait to make a left turn. Now to my left is a public bus stop along with an overhang covering a bench and lots of people waiting to go home . In order to see past these people to see if traffic is coming, I'm inching forward to catch a glimpse. Just a little more and I'll be able to see. As soon as I can actually see, there is a break in traffic and I hit the gas to execute my left turn, but as soon as I hit the gas, I feel something as if I've hit something and  sure enough a lady walked in front of my car and I knocked her clear into the second lane of traffic! Fortunately, there was no one coming and she got up off of the ground, walked up to my red 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee and started pounding her 2 fists onto my hood! After doing that, she looked at me and yelled, "You should be more careful, that was close!" Meanwhile, I thinking, "CLOSE", that was a direct hit! I was already picturing her in my 3500 Square foot home in North Scottsdale and floating in my pool, with my red Corvette in the garage that she only uses on weekends, "CLOSE?" As soon as I looked into her eyes, I realized what I was dealing with. Her eyes were glazed and she was threadbare, like a homeless person. She was so thin that her legs looked like sticks coming out of the leg holes of her shorts. She was stoned out of her gourd! She continued walking down the street and exited the scene. I gave her the obligatory 10 count, 2-4-6-8-10 and split! That was  CLOSE alright! I was still shaking when I got home...