Over a year- I've moved our updates...

I haven't been updating the blog because I've been posting everything in the Facebook group. Pretty much everyone who subscribes to this blog is also on Facebook. You can still see the group if you're not in it because it is a public group.

The Official Conversations with the Disabled Guy Facebook Group

Feel free to join us there or follow or whatever the Facebook is calling it now. I apologize for the inconvenience it causes anyone, but it just makes it more convenient for me.

Concerts. CONCERTS.

In a conversation about concerts- music concerts, like Merle Haggard and such.

Disabled Guy: "I want to see that show with the guy with the animals."

Me: "What show? What animals?"

DG: "That guy who does those things with the tigers and shit."

Me: "What guy does a concert with animals?"

DG: "You know, that famous guy. John. John something."

Me: "Are you talking about the zoo guy who used to go on Johnny Carson?"

DG: "I dunno. Maybe. He does this thing with animals."

Me: "What *thing*? I have no idea what you're talking about."

DG: "He does things with animals and shit."

I am utterly confused as to what famous guy does a concert with animals. So, I said: "Jack Hanna?"

DG: "Yes! That's him."

Me: "JACK, not John. And that's not a concert."

DG: "Well, no, but I knew his name started with a C."

Me: "J. His name starts with a J."

DG: "Whatever, he has a name, doesn't he?"

Classic Cars and SCIENCE!

Not that they're related. They're absolutely not related. Those are just the two topics we were texting about today. The "SCIENCE" part is actually bragging about one of our kids.

 The Disabled Guy's favorite classic car is a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. Barring that, he'd settle for a 1957 Chevrolet sedan. Or station wagon... basically, the '57 Chevy is his favorite classic car. He holds a few Chevelles and a Nova or two as favorites as well. But that '57 is it.

Today, I saw an old Mustang. I'm not sure how old, because I'm not much of a car guy (or a "guy" at all), but I thought it was cool because you just don't see this style of Mustang much anymore. And what followed was about to turn into the same tired and stupid discussion we have whenever I think a classic car is cool enough to point out.

I only know it was a Mustang, because I read the word "Mustang" on the back.

So, I sent this and said: "Wow. Look at this old Mustang."

He replied: "Okay. Why?"

Me: "I thought it was cool. You don't see too many like this nowadays." (I said that twice, yes. Once to you, and then again. Because it's true!)

DG: "That's because the weather is rough for winter. Most of the classics are kept down South. No salt on the roads."

*sigh* That's what he always says no matter where we are or what the context is in seeing a classic car. Always the same argument. If you point out to him that there are classic cars all over the world, not just in the South, he reiterates that he said "Most" and not "all". So, if you point out that there's a classic car show every single year in the very town you live in, he doesn't care. That's a show. You don't see them on the road (which is not true- there are collectors everywhere who only drive their classics onto a trailer, off the trailer at the show, and then back onto it for the drive home).

So, this was my long text reply that probably got sent to his phone in three separate texts:

"Oh, God. No. I am not having THIS discussion again. 'BLAR! Salt on roads!'... 'Blerg! Salt in the air from the ocean!'... 'Classic cars in the South!'... 'Classic cars all over the country!' Blah, blah, blah! You're pretty, I'm pretty. Let's just say classic cars are cool and move on!"

And his reply to that was: "Did you just call me 'pretty'?"

Me: "Yes. We're both pretty. We don't need to argue about classic cars and the weather!" and I sent him a photo of our dog, Bruno, because he's adorable.

A couple hours later, I let him know our oldest daughter is graduating from college this month. I explained that she's not going to the ceremony (she has two jobs) and she never ordered the cap and gown, so it isn't like she can just change her mind and show up. Because I knew he was telling his parents about it, I texted her so I could tell him her exact graduate title. She's graduating with a "Bachelor of Science in Genetics". I asked her what her job title would be, in a general sense and told her I was texting her dad, who was in turn, telling the grandparents.

So, our daughter, Kathy, is a molecular biologist. Or, just simply- a scientist. And, in her words: "Overqualified for this bullshit job". (at the moment, she works in retail. One job is slightly connected to her science background, but still in retail- a pharmacy).

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a molecular biologist looks like.



And this... this is what she looks like too.

St. Patrick's Day Conversation...

Normally, when we text, I'll screen-cap the shit out of our convo and share it. You'd think that'd be less work than typing it out, but it really isn't. Well, in this case, I'm going to type it out because the Disabled Guy's texts were full of misspellings and in between our discussion, we had a few random things and I just don't feel like editing out those random things. But, the conversation that follows is the actual conversation with his misspellings and text-speak corrected because even though it's great that he can text, his text-speak annoys the hell out of me. (actually, anybody's text speak annoys me).

This all started with him sending me a text, wishing me a Happy St. Patrick's Day. And if you know him, you know he doesn't even like the real holidays- like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, family birthdays, our anniversary.

DG: "Have a good Saint Patrick Day."

Me: "I don't drink. Or have anything green to wear. DEAR GOD! I'M GONNA DIE IF I GO OUTSIDE!! Saint Pats celebrators are like zombies. "Green. GREEEEN!"..."

DG: "I don't have a green shirt either. Of course, I don't have brains either."

Me: "You have a green t-shirt. I can see it from here. And St Pat's people don't want your brains. THEY WANT YOUR GREENS!"

DG: "Well, I don't have it here. But you can wear it."

Me: "I wear 3XL, I can't wear it."

DG: "Ok."

Me: "We're gonna die! St Pats are coming to get us!"

DG: "Not me."

Me: "Oh, they'll find you. THEY ALWAYS FIND YOU!"

DG: "But I'm blessed."

Me: "No one is! SAINT Patrick's Day. We're all gonna die!"

DG: "You're so negative."

Me: "No, I'm just realistic about the green zombies."

DG: "Yes, you so are."

Me: "GREEN ZOMBIE!!" and I sent that with this picture (I Googled "green zombie" on my phone).

DG: "Good God. You are going to die!"

Me: "He's on his way there. I gave him directions to your parents' house. It'll take a few weeks, he bought a ticket on Greyhound."

DG: "Good to know."

Then he sent me a photo of himself, wearing a towel, and said: "Watch out. The one-eyed monster will get you."

Me: "Not here. I'm safer from that than you are from the zombie."

DG: "Ok, but it's out there."

Me: "Not any that are interested in me. Those don't exist anymore."

DG: "You keep thinking that way and then it's going to eat you up."

Me: "Are you talking about zombies or your dick?"

DG: "Both."

Me: "Well, your dick is too far away and the green zombie is on a Greyhound bus."

His reply to that was a photo of him wearing a "Bazinga!" T-shirt with green lettering on it. He said: "I'm saved!"

I sent him a photo of a closeup of my eye and said that I have green flecks in my eye. He then informed me that I might be saved.

And just as quickly as the story escalated, it ended.

Textually Speaking 2015

I'm sorry I haven't updated in quite a while. It isn't because we haven't had conversations. We have, but they're not always memorable or sometimes I just plain old forget them. The new pain meds for my fibro sort of scatter my brain cells into different realms and if I don't write something down, I'll forget it.

I have posted a few things in the Facebook Group. It's a public group, so you don't really even have to be a member of it to see the posts.

I've been meaning to post this conversation for a couple days, but I kept procrastinating myself out of it. Well, here it is- Textually Speaking 2015 edition. (he's yellow, I'm blue; in case you didn't know)

This is just as random as it seems. We were talking about something related to finances just about an hour and a half before this (as you can see in the time-stamp above his first text). So I was literally cooking dinner when he just texted that word to me. And this happened.

A story, but it's about the Disabled Guy- and a convo at the end...

This story was brought on by this article about epilepsy on Cracked-dot-com. I started to share the link on Facebook, but the story about the Disabled Guy became kind of long and I thought, "Hey, dumbass, why don't you update his blog because you suck at that lately..." so, I did...

The Disabled Guy doesn't have epilepsy, but he's had (at least) two seizures related to his stroke. (he's very well-maintained on daily seizure meds). I've witnessed two of his seizures, one in our home in the middle of the night and the other in the ER. The first was very movie-worthy with all the flailing and noises. The second was in the middle of the day and I'd called an ambulance because the way he was behaving pre-seizure made me think he was having another stroke.

At the ER, he was both combative and incoherent. I had to leave his side to call in to work and let them know I couldn't go in that night (I was a night shift security guard, and to complicate things- it was a holiday weekend and I was a shift supervisor). When I got back, he was shouting and grasping at the door frame and swearing at the nurses because they were trying to take him for a cat scan. I grabbed his hand and said: "What the hell are you doing?" (or something similar) and he replied: "Where the hell have you been!?" Before I could reply, he started seizing. I immediately let go of his hand and took three giant steps away from his bedside as the doctor and nurses swooped in. They were getting ready to sedate him and the doctor told the nurse to go ahead with it.

So, that second seizure wasn't quite as violent. After they took him to run the tests, the doctor told me that was the first time he'd seen any family member react "so perfectly" to a seizure. "You let go, you got out of the way..." sort of thing. I just shrugged and said something along the lines of: "You guys deal with this thing, I was just trying to get out of the way", except not nearly as clever, I'm sure.

And a few months ago, he decided to say "fuck you" to reason and cut his seizure meds in half.

But, if you read that article, it talks about the driving restrictions and such. In Georgia, he had to wait a full year, so he never actually got his license back in Georgia. In Wisconsin, it was six months. Since he's been seizure-free for so long, he doesn't even have to have followups related to his license. It's been since 1997, so my memory is fuzzy on the followups, but I seem to recall having to go in every few months to make sure things were all fine and dandy.

Anyway, go on and read that article. It was funny and informative. And here's a little conversation we had last night, shortly before I gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed. I went to bed at 1030 PM, DG came to bed around midnight and I was still wide freakin' awake. (I wrote a blog post about it on my fibro blog).

So, first a little explanation- we don't really have "a favorite movie" because, as you may know, DG is a bit of a collector. (we have well over a thousand DVDs). But, we do have movies we love and will watch over and over. The list is long and it changes from time to time. Right now, one of my favorites is a ridiculous and silly action flick called "The Baytown Outlaws" starring Clayne Crawford, Travis Fimmel (from "Vikings"), and Daniel Cudmore (he played "Felix" in the Twilight flicks, apparently). In smaller roles- there's one of the Evas (Longoria) and Billy Bob Thornton. Now, I love me some Billy Bob and the fact that Clayne Crawford was in it too? Well, I knew I'd enjoy this flick. The movie is hilarious and violent and ridiculous and Crawford is awesome and Billy Bob is at his evil drug-lord best. And it is one of the few movies I will watch when I catch it on cable (plus, of course, I own the DVD).

Last night, when DG came to bed to find me wide-ass awake, it was on TV. Crawford's character is named "Brick" and as I was getting out of bed, I said: "Who the hell names their son 'Brick'?"

DG said: "Block did. That's his last name." (it isn't, by the way, not in the movie).

I asked: "Did you say Block?"

DG started giggling. "Block. They had a neighbor named Cement. Brick Block and Asphalt Cement dated in high school." (he pronounced "Asphalt" as "Azz-fault"). He continued to giggle.

So I said: "But what? It didn't work out because they were from two different worlds?"

Through his giggling, he stated: "One is for buildings. The other is for roads. They were doomed. DOOMED!" and then his giggle-fit turned into a full-blown laugh-out where he had to "ooh" to catch his breath.

But if you like action-y flicks that are ridiculous on their action level, check it out. I know I enjoy it.

OH- and completely unrelated- DG said he'd pose with me for another photo, so we can update from this one. (I no longer dye my hair black). So, that'll be cool... maybe this time, he'll cooperate and it'll take fewer attempts to get a shot.

From 2012- (click on the photo if you'd like to see the details)



Edited to add- the new photo!

So many missed conversations...

I am so sorry for not updating this blog more often. I really am. I have no excuse other than I've been forgetting details of our conversations too quickly. I usually write little notes with key details so I can remember them later, but I haven't been doing that very much. (sometimes, like today, I will text to my email the entire conversation as it happens, so I can go back to it and write it up).

Anyway, where to start? So many conversations are just *poof* gone now. And there are a few updates in The Official Conversations with the Disabled Guy Facebook Group. I'm sure I could have put a few of those into a blog post, but I've been so lazy about things lately (even my fibro blog went a month or so without updates). It was partly due to the fibro. In the last six months, I've gone through two medication changes (because they weren't working for me). That sorta Swiss-cheeses the brain for short-term memory. I'll link to the short updates, so you don't have to scroll through everything on that page.

October 28th- Setting things on Fire

November 3rd- Teslacon and Thee Bluebeard

November 15th- "Welp, it's snowing."

November 28th- "Falmunctioning Angel"

December 6th- Thee Bluebeard and Santa

But... here I am! And today, I texted a conversation to myself.

Firstly, I was invited to an event in January. There's a fee. And it happens ON the Disabled Guy's birthday. I was fully expecting him to say something about it, like he didn't want me to go or the fee (which is $30) was the killer. But this is the conversation that took place...

Me: "I was invited to a thing on Janu-"

DG: "Okay."

Me: "-ary 11th."

DG: "I said okay."

Me: "But that's your birthday."

DG: "So? Just a day. Go to your thing. Go."

Me: "You're totally cool with spending the whole day by yourself?"

DG: "Have fun."

Me: "Alright... gonna be $30."

DG: "I *SAID* 'okay'!"

I suspect that there is either something NASCAR related happening on TV (because his birthday is about a month before the Daytona 500) or he's got some train building thing already planned and doesn't care if I'm around. (also, he hates it when anyone makes a big deal about his birthday. I bake him a cake, that's about all he can handle. If I get him a present, I don't even wrap it).

Today, we were at the store and in the checkout line, I noticed there was a bit of cobweb from our basement ceiling on his baseball cap. So, I pulled it off and said: "You had cobweb on your hat."

He exclaimed: "Hey! I was savin' that!"

Me: "For what?"

DG: "For one of those days. You know, when I'm out there and I have it on my hat and I can just [swooshing sound with hand gesture] throw it out there and crawl across it."

Me: "And then what?"

DG: "And then I get away. Didn't you read the script?"

Me: "I didn't know they were making this into a movie."

DG: "Psh, don't you know? They make everything into a movie."

Me: "Even disabled guys and cobwebs?"

DG: "Yeah. Because that's a good story there."