Okay, I know I asked for suggestions on what to write about, and although I only got one response so far, I will get to answering and writing on those subjects (not sure what to say about my chest besides I might be a single C cup or a double B now, not sure, not much to write home about there.).

However something has come up, and I’m throwing up some prayers that it isn’t in anyway serious, but it has my mind spinning a bit. 

When I was 14 years old, I was having the time of my life, playing sports, doing very well in football and baseball.  I was beginning my freshman year of high school (my goatee was growing in nicely) and football season had began.  Our (9th grade team) games were on Monday evenings, while the Varsity high school team played Friday nights.  We had been through the two-a-days, the team was somewhat starting to come together.  I was playing center on offense and was captain of the line, and bounced back and forth between nosetackle and middle linebacker on defense, depending on the scheme.  I was one of three team captains and absolutely loving flying around the field and “laying wood” (little did I know that I still love to do that, but just in a very different way!). 

So here we are the Friday before our first game on Monday, and scrimmaging the 8th grade team.  We are playing defense, I’m terrorizing my friend Chuck (their quarterback) and we are doing well.  We pop out of our 5-3 base defense to a 4-4 nickel/dime package, pulling me off the line and to Middle Linebacker.  Some how, and I’m still not exactly sure how, I ended up down the seam covering their speediest receiver (something even in my youngest days, I shouldn’t have been doing.  I have never been blessed with speed.).  I was running on a dead sprint away from the quarterback, mostly keeping pace with the receiver, turned my head to locate the ball, spot it, realize the pass was underthrown, plant and jump back  towards the quarterback.  I intercept the pass as the receiver jumps on my back to try to knock down the pass, we go down in a heap, I still have the ball, bumped/bruised from falling/being tackled (so I thought) and generally thinking in my head “F you, pay me, I got this ball, we’re on offense now!”  I plant my right foot to get up, extend up and then shift my weight to my left leg, where I promptly and instantaneously feel shooting pain in my left knee, coupled with it giving out completely and me falling flat on my face.  Grab my knee, think it has to be fine, bumps/bruises just happen, and tried to get up again with the same results.  I lay there on the field, holding my knee, tears welling in my eyes, feeling like a huge pussy, as my coach is running over telling me to just stay down.  I sat there a few minutes, talking to my coach, trying to figure out how/when I actually hurt my knee (even looking back, I’m still not sure, but if I had to put money on it, I would have to say the planting and jumping back motion, most likely).  After a while they helped me up, I put a little weight on it, then after a few steps I seemed fine.  I walked on my own off of the field, through the gate, down the hill and through the parking lot to the training room.  There the scrawny, waste of human flesh trainer performed tests on my knee, and generally came to the conclusion that I just sprained it, was a bit of a baby, and should ice it all weekend, and then I should be fine to play on Monday night.  Told me to change into shorts, strapped me up with ice, and sent me back up to watch practice.

So ice and rest happens over the weekend, I’m genuinely excited about the upcoming game tonight.  The coaches keep me off the kick-off team, and we start out on defense.  Nosetackle first play, manhandled the center, and planted the quarterback.  Sack number one of the season (I thought), off to a good start.  Next play, same 5-3, toss off tackle by the offense, perfect angle on the running back, going to level the running back on the sideline, plant with my left to hit him, knee gives out, flat on my face, excruciating pain.  I’m trying to get down the field for the extra point, when my quarterback some on the field yelling at me to get off the field because he needs someone to protect him on offense.  I finally hobble off the field against my will, sit down with the trainer, who runs the same tests, then puts his head down, and gets this look on his face that one only gets when they realize that they have made not only a mistake, but a horse’s ass of themselves.  He proceeds to tell me, “I think I was wrong about that sprain, you tore your ACL.”  I saw white, I remember just complete bewilderment, in my mind I knew exactly what that meant, I had watched a ton of sports, top athletes have this happen to them, it couldn’t really mean the same thing for me, could it? 

The next day I was in the orthopedic surgeon’s office, where they are sticking a 6 inch needle, in my knee, attached to a 5.5 inch around syringe (don’t ask how I know those measurements…;-), when I look down and the fluid coming out of my knee is a reddish-pink color.  I didn’t know what that meant, other than the fact that there is a giant fucking needle in my knee that didn’t feel pleasant, until the doctor proceded to say, “That’s not good, red means something is torn.”  One test later, he asked if I wanted the good or bad news.  I literally, just looked at him and said, “Start talking.”  He said, the bad news was that I tore my ACL for sure, but the good news is that no other ligaments were hurt, and it was completely torn, so basic walking would not be painful, unless I quickly pivoted, then it would dislocate and I’d be on my face again.  So on October 3, 1996, I had my left ACL reconstructed and spent the next 8 months in rehab to get back for every bit of the baseball season that I could get back for. 

It was hell, as much hell as I could possibly imagine in my sheltered, 14 year old life.  The only light at the end of the tunnel was that I just wanted to play baseball and football again, so I gutted out hard work to get back and play.

Fast forward, sophomore year of college, intramural basketball game, pull down a defensive rebound, guys from the opposing team on either side of me, pivot to find my point guard, release the pass, and feel my right knee “pop”.  Went down in a heap, immense pain, knowing right then and there that I had just torn my other ACL.  Crawled off the court, my teammates looking at me in shock, when I told them what happened and that I knew what it was.  Two weeks later, home on break see the doctor, he does one test, walks over to the counter, grabs the chart and says, “I could tell you what I just found, but the truth is, you already know exactly what I’m going to say.”  To which I responded, “Yep, my ACL is gone, how quickly can I have surgery?”  That May right after the semester ended (which for my swimming instruction class, I had to shave my legs just to be able to swim and pass the class without crying in the water) I had my other ACL reconstructed.  8 months in rehab, not quite as bad, I didn’t have anything competitive to get back for, so I worked hard, but the mental anguish wasn’t the same.

Fast forward again to the present.  Left ACL used to be the middle of my Patellar Tendon, Right ACL used to be a piece of my hamstring.  Randomly between hockey and insane leg workouts last week, my right knee starts to swell and I have pain in my lower quad and on the outside and the back of my knee.  Needless to say, my mind races and I absolutely dreading learning why this is, with my past experiences daunting me in my mind.  However, I know in my heart of hearts, that I need to get it looked at, if I want to continue on this path to good health and fitness.  So being blessed with becoming friends and previous coworkers with the two physical therapists that I rehabbed with before, I paid my friend Mike a visit at work, to get his opinion on whether to see the doctor or not.  He asked me the usual questions (and to be honest, I don’t know how/when this happened or started, which is both scary, but I think might mean it isn’t something as major as the ACL-knock on wood) then proceeded to do some tests.  I shit you not, if I had something to reach him with at the time, the one thing he did to my knee, I would have knocked a mutha-fucka out cold.  I almost screamed, it hurt so bad!  Mike collected himself and told me that he thought that I nicked some outside cartilage, and with NSAIDS, ice, and nothing crazy causing stress to it, that it would most likely work itself out.  It was music to my ears but I know the next 2 to 4 weeks will hold the truth, but it also means I can still workout, but can’t do anything that causes pain.  So I’m happy I may have dodged a bullet, and can still work out, but the Tubby Cubby isn’t out of the woods.

And I need to get back on here more regularly.  I always think of stuff to write, then don’t get around to it, and then have trouble getting back to my thoughts on the subject.

Does anyone have anything they want to hear about?

Okay, let’s start here:  Today is Opening Day.  That is baseball.  That makes me infinitely happy on a number of levels.  Baseball starts, great highlights, smell of the grass, dirt on your jersey, and all of that good stuff!  It means spring is around the corner, summer to follow.  It means trips out of town to watch baseball games for my sister’s bday and mine too.  Places we can both be ourselves away from this place.  It means I’ll be on golf courses in the near future, and finding any game that is on tv to watch and bullshit about over beers in the clubhouse.  I love it!

This evening I got home from work, and walk in and find my sister, my “adopted” sister, and Kirst.  My “adopted” sister is my sister’s friend (and mine) Amanda.  I adopted her as my little sister about two years ago.  Amanda and Andy have played softball together since they were 10, won a state championship together in high school, and have remained friends since.  Amanda is also a lesbian and is “engaged” to Kirsten.  They are both young, not sure where it will go, but they are happy and generally adorable together!  Generally I love hanging out with all of them, especially Amanda.   Amanda knows all about me, and genuinely cares about what is going on, cute guys I talk to, and the fun I have when going out of town.  There is never any judgement and always fun. 

This evening Amanda accompanied me to the Dungeon Dome, where we caught up on our lives, while I got a quick workout in.  There was a ton of laughing and quality entertainment.  We ended up having a few drinks and watching our favorite movie, “The Hangover”, and laughing about the first time we watched it together.  Last St. Patrick’s Day, Amanda and I started drinking at 6:30am while watching this movie.  I also was wearing a high school basketball practice jersey that was 2 sizes too small.  We never stopped laughing all day, and had a day to remember! 

Okay, albeit random, and maybe not that funny, but it is bringing more of my life to light.  I hope my 8 followers enjoy it, and if there are any questions, let me know.

Alright, I have been on hiatus for far to long from this place.  I need to get back here more often and I vow to do that.  I know that there are plenty of things that I need to address on here, such as more of my friends that I promised to tell about, my first bear event, and everything else that is going on in my life, but I want to continue with Karen and new experiences that have come from having her “fully” in my life.

Okay, so this is a two part story, the first for some comedy and background information, the second to illustrate what this gorgeous beauty has brought to my life. 

First, one random Saturday evening that I happened to be off of work, my friends and I decided that we were going to “suit up” for the evening to go out.  Now the plan was only to go to bars in our small home town, so it was basically just a for our own amusement thing.  I got on my phone and informed Karen of this development and told her to meet up with us.  I get all decked out, we decided to keep it a little casual, so I rocked nice jeans, pinstripe french cuff, clock cufflinks, and a great plaid Michael Kors tie.  Karen walks into the bar to meet us in a great strappy dress and knockout boots.  We were generally having a good time, laughing, fielding all kinds of questions of what the occasion was, when we decided to go to the other bar in town due to it’s close proximity to my friend Andre’s house, where we were planning to responsibly walk to after.  As Karen and I are walking into the other bar, we go to the bar, greet some other friends and grab a drink.  I turn around to survey the landscape of who was in the bar.  We see a group of our friends at the other end of the bar and decide to make our way down there.  I take my first step to get there, and spot two people that are friends of a previous one night stand girl, who flipped her shit afterward and made my life and Karen’s a lot more complicated than it needed to be for a few months.  I quietly say over my shoulder, “oh great, Abby’s friends are here”.  I turn and realize that Andre is standing there talking to Abby who was at the same table.  (Great, first time I’ve seen this crazy-train since said indiscretion)  I turn to Karen to say “Great, Abby is here too” quietly as I am passing her, in mid-conversation with Dre.  Meanwhile, I only get this out, “Great, Ab…..”  When I hear over the DJ system… “I just want to send out congratulations to Donkey (what all my friends call me) and Karen on their engagement.”  My immediate reaction was to think what great timing with psycho in the building, I was a little miffed to start.  Then it started to become absolutely hysterical that, there the two of us stand dressed to the nines, walking in with a group dressed the same way.  It looked the part.  Hollywood couldn’t have scripted a more perfectly funny and f-ed up way to see this psycho-twat for the first time!  The rest of the night went off without a hitch, the two of us refuting the rumor, and laughing and joking about it with all of our friends in there. 

Fast forward to the following week.  I walk into the bar to have a birthday drink with another friend, to everyone laughing and congratulating me, and generally making light of the situation.  I started affectionately referring to Karen as “The Wifey” and a good time is being had by all.  So randomly this girl who I’ve never seen before (which in this town and this bar, isn’t a routine occurrence) approaches me and asks if I am single, because her friend thinks that I am cute.  At this point I am completely flattered, especially because I don’t view myself as someone who can turn any heads.  I’m also conflicted due to the fact that I know I’m not interested in anything with an ax wound, but at the same time I’m interested to see what this friend looks like, and the caliber of woman who would be interested in me.  So vanity takes over and stupidly I say yes I am single, and start looking around for this friend.  She is out of my line of sight, so I kind of forget and move on with another conversation.  Out of no where this tall redheaded sasquatch of a woman appears and is introduced to me as said friend.  I play nice, but immediately think, what have I gotten myself into, and I wouldn’t be proud of the fact that this woman was interested.  I immediately make an excuse that I have to buy my friend’s round of shots (which was true) and got out of dodge.  Later I sit down at the corner of the bar, talking to Karen about what I got myself into, when the initial girl comes up to ask if I was interested in her friend.  Without missing a beat, Karen sticks her head in with the most fake scowl I have ever seen and says to me, “Are you fucking pretending to be single again?” Immediately sensing she was coming to my rescue, I sheepishly smile and say, “Yeah, we only got engaged last week.”  I was then promptly told by that girl that I was pathetic, which I took as my cue to get lost, to leave Karen to sit there smiling while getting a lecture from this chick about how she needed to dump me and find a good man, and stop wasting her time on someone like me.  All I could do was think, how blessed I am to have an understanding person in my life who will help me out in a mildly messed up situation.  Later when I asked Karen about sticking her neck out for me, her response was priceless.  She said the following, “I know you are all about finding yourself a linebacker, but I can’t have you wasting your time on this bitch!”

To my 8 loyal followers, I hope this wasn’t too long and drawn out, and I hope the entertainment factor comes out and it isn’t a “you had to be there” situation.

How can I be this excited to get out of town, meet new people and have brand new experiences, yet absolutely dread packing so much?  I literally haven’t even put the suitcase on the bed to put clothes in it, and I’ve been “packing” for two days.  I don’t know if it is the ADD or just laziness.  Can’t wait to go, but don’t want to pack.  Doesn’t make sense.