Last night I accompanied my roommates John and Hagen to Austin to look at a motorcycle we were thinking about working on as a project bike. The following is our story:
We set off at around 6 o'clock in the evening to go see this bike, putting the address into the handy dandy Google Maps so we'd be sure to have no problems finding the right place.
Google led us around all reputable parts of Austin and then right into the armpit. In. To. The. Armpit. We passed block after block of shabby yards in front of broken down houses as we wound our way deeper into what seemed a lugubrious warren of broken dreams. I speak of course about Little Mexico. Shoddy yards, shabby houses, souped up cars in garish colors and outrageous rims parked in front of every fifth or sixth house, low riders filling the driveways in between. Brown children played soccer in the streets while older siblings and cousins sat around the yards watching out. Watching out for what became evident later.
As we made our way through the maze of disconsolates I noticed, amidst the scattered detritus, several other motorcycles that were either being used for parts or had been wantonly and haphazardly stolen from. Later on the latter became the evident truth.
We pull up to our destination and I note that it is comparatively a nice house; set back from the road, large size, well kempt and newly sodded yard, ubiquitous flashy car.
We Parked across the road and walked up the respectable, yet not overly long, driveway and rapped on the door. Nothing happens except a hurried yet subdued sound of people shuffling about. I look around a bit and notice a window on the upper floor overlooking the front porch is open. John glimpses and whispers 'there are cameras in the corners.' A quick glance shows that indeed there are security cameras overlooking the front of the and sides of the house. Were there more? I can't say, but at this point my hackles raised and I started to get a lot more scared. After a minute or two a woman pokes her head out an upper door and inquired as to how she could help us. John stated we were there about a motorcycle and she disappears back into the house.
Several moments after that a rather large and shirtless Hispanic man with a name tattooed across his chest and a skull with roses tatted on his hand comes out the door as seemingly out of nowhere 4 more hombres saunter up to the house, give as a look over, and go inside. He asks if we're the guys from Marble Falls, and upon our confirmation of this opens the garage and produces the bike. He informs us that it had been stolen and stripped for parts. Several previous images begin to make sense. The bike is missing the tank and much of the body, but still starts up. The forks are bent and the wiring to the lights has been cut. It's obviously been laid on it's side at least once though he says it wasn't wrecked. He tries to push a sale by mentioning several other people are coming over with money for it.
After politely stating we'll let him know what we decide we walk nonchalantly albeit apprehensively back to our car where we note that there are already several young Hispanics looking it over. I should state here that John drives a '98 Cadillac. As we near the car the young men saunter next door to where their father/uncle/cousin is and start talking lowly to him. We drive off with no further adieu, not interested to stay around this uncomfortable establishment. We casually meander back through the neighborhoods and finally out onto the open road where we release a collective sigh of relief and some nervous laughter.
Teasingly we jibe each other about how scared we actually were yet wouldn't give face too and after several miles of nerve relieving road are behind us we decide that as we are in Austin we should stop and eat and not make a total waste of a trip.
Once we were securely inside the brightly lit and comfortably located Buffalo Wild Wings the last vestiges of apprehension fall off our shoulders and our conversation turns to other topics while we enjoyed our mango lemonades and medley of wings. All is right in the world.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Everybody's working for the weekend.
During the week I'm lucky to have one or two appointments as of late, however this past friday and saturday I had 6 and 8 appointments respectively. That's awesome at 40 bucks an appointment. HOWEVER with my back hurt and having spasms it was pretty horrible.
I shouldn't complain, I have the money to pay my phone and rent now. I just want a new back.
I shouldn't complain, I have the money to pay my phone and rent now. I just want a new back.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Thank you so bloody much!
Who says the universe doesn't have a sense of humor. I got over the gout about 4 days ago, and then yesterday I destroyed my back. It's kind of a funny story though...
I had a client I was doing a deep tissue massage on and (not too uncommon like) he fell asleep. At the spa I work at we drape the feet with hot towels when we're done massaging them because a) it feels good, and b) it cleans the oil/cream/ lotion off of their feet so they don't slip slide around in their sandals.
So I drape his foot in the hot towel and startle him into awakeness and cause his leg to kick out at me. So as not to get kicked in the face I turned and jumped out of the way tweaking several vertebra in my lower back in the process.
Knowing as I do all the muscles and bones in the body and their interactions with one another; I could tell by my posture, the way I felt, and limitations on my movement exactly what happened and what needed to be done to fix it. My thoracolumbar hinge (t-11 through l-2) was misaligned from the rest of my back and twisted to the left. Being a massage therapist, having been in school for physical therapy, and knowing several chiropractors I knew that I had to get the erector muscles to relax and needed the 3 vertebra put back into proper alignment. HOWEVER, I couldn't just go do that because as it happened at work I had to go to the workers comp doctor and get his diagnosis. Apparently self diagnosing is a no no even if you have a ridiculous knowledge base.
So I go to the minor emergency center and have to sit in a hard chair in the waiting room for an hour. Not great seeing as how I couldn't twist at all and my left shoulder was being pulled by those erectors downward towards my hip. So I couldn't shift positions at all, and any motion whatsoever caused pain to shoot up and down my spine. Finally I go in to see a nurse who takes my temperature and blood pressure then takes me to a treatment room. Total time with nurse - 5 minutes and 27 seconds. There's a stopwatch function on my stopwatch, I was bored/curious (quite different from bi/curious thank you). I wated quite uncomfortably in the treatment room under the assurance that "the doctor will be in in a minute". The treatment room for the record had miniature furniture and pictures from Disney animated features on the wall. Not a good room for a 6'5" patient if you ask me.
Exactly 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 37 seconds later (there's an app for that) the doctor comes in. He asks me whats wrong and I tell him how this happened and then state "I have no problems with lateral flexion of the spine but any flexion, extension or twisting causes pain originating in my thoracolumbar hinge to shoot up into my cervicals". He blinked at me a few times and asks if I have pain shooting down my leg. I know that he's asking about sciatica type pain (stupid as the sciatic nerve outlets from l-4 [sometimes, not often, as high as l-3] through s-3) and tell him that no my pelvis and legs don't have any pain at all.
Apparently this answer doesn't satisfy him because he next did reflex tests and resistance tests on my legs and feet to see if they are affected. They're not, like I just informed him. I then point out that my shoulder is being pulled down meaning the erectors have seized on my left hand side, further meaning that there must be a spinal problem the muscles are protecting there. He blinks at me again. He then tells me that all he can do is give me some muscle relaxers and pain meds to ease my discomfort and suggests I go to 6 weeks of physical therapy and come back to see if I have made any progress. I ask if he would recommend seeing a chiropractor. He tells me that workers comp won't cover it. I inform him that workers comp will cover it if he recommends/prescribes it. He blinks AGAIN! "well, I don't think they can help you, I really think you need a regimen of physical therapy."
Annoying stupid uneducated man. I tell him I was in school for physical therapy and know exactly what they will have me do then I ask if I can just do that at home on my own. He thinks this a spiffing idea and gives his approval. He wrote me my prescription and left. Time with doctor: 9 minutes and 17 seconds. I have now been at the emergency roomy thingy for 2 and a half hours and spent nearly 15 minutes with the staff.
I went to walmart and got my pills because I had to be able to work today and would not have been able to do that without the drugs.
On monday I am going to go see a chiropractor and pay him out of my own pocket rather than do 6 weeks of physical therapy. On tuesday I will be 100% better. Stupid western medicine and idiotic worthless physicians.
I had a client I was doing a deep tissue massage on and (not too uncommon like) he fell asleep. At the spa I work at we drape the feet with hot towels when we're done massaging them because a) it feels good, and b) it cleans the oil/cream/ lotion off of their feet so they don't slip slide around in their sandals.
So I drape his foot in the hot towel and startle him into awakeness and cause his leg to kick out at me. So as not to get kicked in the face I turned and jumped out of the way tweaking several vertebra in my lower back in the process.
Knowing as I do all the muscles and bones in the body and their interactions with one another; I could tell by my posture, the way I felt, and limitations on my movement exactly what happened and what needed to be done to fix it. My thoracolumbar hinge (t-11 through l-2) was misaligned from the rest of my back and twisted to the left. Being a massage therapist, having been in school for physical therapy, and knowing several chiropractors I knew that I had to get the erector muscles to relax and needed the 3 vertebra put back into proper alignment. HOWEVER, I couldn't just go do that because as it happened at work I had to go to the workers comp doctor and get his diagnosis. Apparently self diagnosing is a no no even if you have a ridiculous knowledge base.
So I go to the minor emergency center and have to sit in a hard chair in the waiting room for an hour. Not great seeing as how I couldn't twist at all and my left shoulder was being pulled by those erectors downward towards my hip. So I couldn't shift positions at all, and any motion whatsoever caused pain to shoot up and down my spine. Finally I go in to see a nurse who takes my temperature and blood pressure then takes me to a treatment room. Total time with nurse - 5 minutes and 27 seconds. There's a stopwatch function on my stopwatch, I was bored/curious (quite different from bi/curious thank you). I wated quite uncomfortably in the treatment room under the assurance that "the doctor will be in in a minute". The treatment room for the record had miniature furniture and pictures from Disney animated features on the wall. Not a good room for a 6'5" patient if you ask me.
Exactly 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 37 seconds later (there's an app for that) the doctor comes in. He asks me whats wrong and I tell him how this happened and then state "I have no problems with lateral flexion of the spine but any flexion, extension or twisting causes pain originating in my thoracolumbar hinge to shoot up into my cervicals". He blinked at me a few times and asks if I have pain shooting down my leg. I know that he's asking about sciatica type pain (stupid as the sciatic nerve outlets from l-4 [sometimes, not often, as high as l-3] through s-3) and tell him that no my pelvis and legs don't have any pain at all.
Apparently this answer doesn't satisfy him because he next did reflex tests and resistance tests on my legs and feet to see if they are affected. They're not, like I just informed him. I then point out that my shoulder is being pulled down meaning the erectors have seized on my left hand side, further meaning that there must be a spinal problem the muscles are protecting there. He blinks at me again. He then tells me that all he can do is give me some muscle relaxers and pain meds to ease my discomfort and suggests I go to 6 weeks of physical therapy and come back to see if I have made any progress. I ask if he would recommend seeing a chiropractor. He tells me that workers comp won't cover it. I inform him that workers comp will cover it if he recommends/prescribes it. He blinks AGAIN! "well, I don't think they can help you, I really think you need a regimen of physical therapy."
Annoying stupid uneducated man. I tell him I was in school for physical therapy and know exactly what they will have me do then I ask if I can just do that at home on my own. He thinks this a spiffing idea and gives his approval. He wrote me my prescription and left. Time with doctor: 9 minutes and 17 seconds. I have now been at the emergency roomy thingy for 2 and a half hours and spent nearly 15 minutes with the staff.
I went to walmart and got my pills because I had to be able to work today and would not have been able to do that without the drugs.
On monday I am going to go see a chiropractor and pay him out of my own pocket rather than do 6 weeks of physical therapy. On tuesday I will be 100% better. Stupid western medicine and idiotic worthless physicians.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
I only use my power for good. Or for awesome.
I have recently become den leader for the cub scout pack in my ward. I've only been there a few times so far, but it's fun. THe question is do I use my powers for good? Or for evil...
Meh, probably for good. I like to think diabolically, but seldom follow through. Last week was fun though, I was teaching the cubbies how to use tools. Hilarious. Watching a diminutive human holding a hammer in both hands trying to hit a nail while poking his tongue out the side of his mouth is, as alluded to, hilarious.
Not too sure yet what we'll be doing in weeks to come, but I've got some fun ideas I'll probably talk about on here. Tonight we're doing physical fitness stuff. This might be because I want to see little domes smack into the floor with the sound of so many coconuts, or it might be because its an easy achievement to check off in the book and I really want my little cubbies to do well. You decide.
Meh, probably for good. I like to think diabolically, but seldom follow through. Last week was fun though, I was teaching the cubbies how to use tools. Hilarious. Watching a diminutive human holding a hammer in both hands trying to hit a nail while poking his tongue out the side of his mouth is, as alluded to, hilarious.
Not too sure yet what we'll be doing in weeks to come, but I've got some fun ideas I'll probably talk about on here. Tonight we're doing physical fitness stuff. This might be because I want to see little domes smack into the floor with the sound of so many coconuts, or it might be because its an easy achievement to check off in the book and I really want my little cubbies to do well. You decide.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
First you pick it up, put it in the bag.
I'm a slob. No idea why. My house is a mess, and while it sometimes frustrates me to the point that I deep clean everything, I usually just sit apathetically in my slovenly surroundings. My clothes are all over the floor in my room in a clean pile and a dirty heap.
I only mention this because in every other aspect I am obsessed with order. My work space is immaculate. I can't play cards without wanting to straighten the piles. It's a really odd double standardy thingy I have going on.
Anyway, this has been my musing of the night as I sat here counting socks and tupperware stuffed under the coffee table and I have come to this conclusion. I need a neatknick roommate. I am a tremendous cook and all sorts of fun as a person. So, I will feed and entertain you if you clean and do laundry. Deal?
I only mention this because in every other aspect I am obsessed with order. My work space is immaculate. I can't play cards without wanting to straighten the piles. It's a really odd double standardy thingy I have going on.
Anyway, this has been my musing of the night as I sat here counting socks and tupperware stuffed under the coffee table and I have come to this conclusion. I need a neatknick roommate. I am a tremendous cook and all sorts of fun as a person. So, I will feed and entertain you if you clean and do laundry. Deal?
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Ol' George has the gout, I see.
Please somebody know that reference.
So, after doing well on my diet and walking for exercise, the ironically sense of humored universe kicked me in the butt with a bout of gout.
If you don't know what that is let me enlighten you. Gout is caused by the kidney being unable to process the protein strains of red meats and shellfish and so depositing crystallized uric acid in the joints of the foot. For me it starts as a sharp ache in the big toe and then moves into the ankle causing swelling and a constant sharp pain. Any motion increases the pain a hundredfold. I can't put any weight on the foot, and there's really nothing that I can do to alleviate it.
Luckily this time I had some pain killers that I popped like candy and I was able to hobble about that way. The gout is waning now, so in a few days I should be back to normal and back on my routine. I haven't weighed myself in the week and a half this has been going on because I don't want to be disappointed in what the scale will say. Anywho, once I'm back able to exercise and diet again I'll be back on the weight loss wagon.
So, after doing well on my diet and walking for exercise, the ironically sense of humored universe kicked me in the butt with a bout of gout.
If you don't know what that is let me enlighten you. Gout is caused by the kidney being unable to process the protein strains of red meats and shellfish and so depositing crystallized uric acid in the joints of the foot. For me it starts as a sharp ache in the big toe and then moves into the ankle causing swelling and a constant sharp pain. Any motion increases the pain a hundredfold. I can't put any weight on the foot, and there's really nothing that I can do to alleviate it.
Luckily this time I had some pain killers that I popped like candy and I was able to hobble about that way. The gout is waning now, so in a few days I should be back to normal and back on my routine. I haven't weighed myself in the week and a half this has been going on because I don't want to be disappointed in what the scale will say. Anywho, once I'm back able to exercise and diet again I'll be back on the weight loss wagon.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Harry! You have a gun!
Recently my best friend announced his wife was pregnant. I told him if it was a girl then I would buy her a pink .22 not thinking that were was such a thing but determined to find one nonetheless. Well, today, I found one! A cute little pink .22 made specifically for children.
So I bought it. I don't know if this is everywhere or just at Wal-Mart, but it's a long process to buy a kids gun. I filled out a form with full name (NO INITIALS), my current address, my criminal background (seriously, who is gonna click 'yes' on 'are you a fugitive from justice'), my place of birth (city and state gets complicated to the employee when told I was born in England. Hilarious), and my SSN for proof of citizenship.
Anyway I fill out the form and the employee goes to verify my info with my license. "Your address doesn't match your license on the form." 'It asked for my current address, not the address my license was issued to.' " Well, They have to match or I can't sell it. You'll have to go get your address changed on your license." 'Can I just change my address on the form so I don't have to spend 30 bucks?' "Uh..." 'You don't ship it or anything, it just has to match yeah?" "Yeah..." 'K, give here I'll fix it.' A few minutes later, "Uh, I don't think England is a state...is it?" 'No. But I was born there.' "I can't sell a gun to immigrants without a green card." 'I'm an American citizen buddy' (reference anyone). "Oh, uh, you have your Social on here?" 'Yes, that's the 9 digit number in the next box.' "Oh yeah, I see now. Alright, I have to call a manager to verify all this and walk you out."
SO the manager comes over takes 30 seconds, the salesman took 45 minutes, and went to walk out with the gun. I had to let him know I wasn't done shopping yet so he put the gun back in the lock up and told me to call him when I was ready. 10 minutes later after completing my shopping I went back to get it. The manager then walked me out to the front of the building and handed me the gun. I asked what the point was and he told me that it was a measure to make sure some wacko doesn't just buy a gun and shoot up the place. I then informed him that as I was 5 feet in front of the building I could still turn around and shoot up the place if I wanted. He looked a little awkward and foolish and bid me a good day.
So anyway, Now I kept my word to Jon and had an awesome adventure for all around a hundred dollars. Yea for Wally.
So I bought it. I don't know if this is everywhere or just at Wal-Mart, but it's a long process to buy a kids gun. I filled out a form with full name (NO INITIALS), my current address, my criminal background (seriously, who is gonna click 'yes' on 'are you a fugitive from justice'), my place of birth (city and state gets complicated to the employee when told I was born in England. Hilarious), and my SSN for proof of citizenship.
Anyway I fill out the form and the employee goes to verify my info with my license. "Your address doesn't match your license on the form." 'It asked for my current address, not the address my license was issued to.' " Well, They have to match or I can't sell it. You'll have to go get your address changed on your license." 'Can I just change my address on the form so I don't have to spend 30 bucks?' "Uh..." 'You don't ship it or anything, it just has to match yeah?" "Yeah..." 'K, give here I'll fix it.' A few minutes later, "Uh, I don't think England is a state...is it?" 'No. But I was born there.' "I can't sell a gun to immigrants without a green card." 'I'm an American citizen buddy' (reference anyone). "Oh, uh, you have your Social on here?" 'Yes, that's the 9 digit number in the next box.' "Oh yeah, I see now. Alright, I have to call a manager to verify all this and walk you out."
SO the manager comes over takes 30 seconds, the salesman took 45 minutes, and went to walk out with the gun. I had to let him know I wasn't done shopping yet so he put the gun back in the lock up and told me to call him when I was ready. 10 minutes later after completing my shopping I went back to get it. The manager then walked me out to the front of the building and handed me the gun. I asked what the point was and he told me that it was a measure to make sure some wacko doesn't just buy a gun and shoot up the place. I then informed him that as I was 5 feet in front of the building I could still turn around and shoot up the place if I wanted. He looked a little awkward and foolish and bid me a good day.
So anyway, Now I kept my word to Jon and had an awesome adventure for all around a hundred dollars. Yea for Wally.
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