Raving Private Ryan

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With recent back surgery, a broken ankle, a broken foot and a broken wrist, an act like bathing can become deceptively complex -sometimes leaving me in various states of undress for up to an hour. And our bedroom -the 'Master'- is in the deepest recesses of the house, with little likelihood for random crazy crap to somehow waft up.

So what is it with Californians and busting open closed doors? At any hour of the day, I shut the door and the goddamn thing bursts open -without a knock or warning- within minutes. I’ve bitched and moaned about this for years already, but I am so frustrated at this point: is Richard Dawson hiding out somewhere downstairs making these people think it’s an episode of The Price is Right?   Please take your lovely array of kitchen appliances and Rice-a-Roni parting gifts, and leave Door Number One alone.  I’ll bet if I floated a closed horizontal door and frame in the middle of some uncharted frozen sea, hundreds of Californians would somehow drown. [Believe it or not, my stepdaughter did it as I was drafting this.]

Is a courtesy knock really too much to ask anyone? Or after all these years of complaining, wouldn’t one consider doing an act so simple -rational or not- just to avoid the inevitable subsequent spectacle? At this point, I’m starting to feel I’m just being needlessly provoked.

Do any of you adult couples -parents, specifically- have this kind of liberal “open door” policy in your homes? My [step] kids' ages range from 8, 17, and 21, and all have friends and guests that have similar mileage. Terri’s case is “I’ve never had closed doors in my family.”   Well that's nice and quaint and all, but let's be realistic Laura Ingalls: these are mostly young adults that I’ve only known for a few years.

-Wouldn’t it be creepy if I wasn't concerned about this?

Safety First

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I want to go downstairs and get another beer, but I'm utterly wasted on Percocet.

-And my test Slinky just burst into flames.

Cosmetology School CPR Dummy Stolen, Large Cash Reward Offered

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Missing device smells vaguely of nail polish, Paul
Mitchell products, and defibrillator burns.

Predator Press Mulls Purchasing Dodgers Franchise

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We love football.

-How bad could they be?

Behind the Scenes: Nyota Uhura

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Life began unspectacularly for Nyota Uhura. And after years of hard work, she was set to graduate top of her cosmetology class. But due to a typographical error, she was recruited to the starship Enterprise as Captain Kirk’s Communications Officer and Chief Exfoliator.

“Communications Officer,” however, would be a sad irony for Nyota as she was wildly dyslexic: during Romulan and Klingon attacks she would run up and down the ship screaming, “Trela Der! Trela Der!” This directly led to the destruction of Enterprises I, II, V, Va, the VIIb, the IX.2, numerous undocumented models of the Reliant, a school bus, and at least four bicycles.

Soon thereafter, her arrest at a Star Trek convention for the assault of George Lucas made the papers worldwide. She would subsequently tell police, “I kept punching [Lucas] until my knuckles could feel the inside of the back of his head.” Uhura nonetheless denied any motivation involving the hot Star Trek v Star Wars rivalry. “I just wanted [Lucas] to stop making shitty movies. Somebody should have done that in 1983.”

Now experimenting with drugs, Uhura's behavior only became increasingly erratic. According to Wikipedia, “Star Trek III: The Search for Spock sees Uhura take an assignment in the transporter room as part of a plot to steal the Enterprise. After locking a colleague in a closet, Uhura uses the transporter station to beam Kirk, Leonard McCoy and Hikaru Sulu to the Enterprise so they can use it to rescue Spock from the Genesis Planet.”

Uhura’s prosecutors found this defense preposterous, however. “She locked a guy in a closet?“ said District Attorney Jorge Sackwood. “Okay. Forget that the future doesn’t even have bathrooms … but there is a closet in the Transporter Room? Why? Is it full of red shirts? Or is it simply there for Sulu to come out of?”

Disillusioned with her military career -and now hopelessly addicted to Fuzzy Navels and a myriad of over-the-counter cold medications- Uhura’s downward spiral would lead to feelance work with Vivid Entertainment. 2011 would see the release of a poorly-produced sex tape with NFL star Bret Lockett, something Uhura’s agent disavows as her having been “heavily intoxicated and exploited.” The agent would continue on to say, “Were she fully in command of her faculties at the time it never would have happened. She thought she was making a tape with Hines Ward.”

After an embarrassing appearance on History Channel’s Pawn Stars in an attempt to sell her tricorder and phaser, Ohura finally caught a romantic break and started dating Corey "Big Hoss" Harrison. And because she never did a film with Nicolas Cage or Rob Schneider, this was the same year she was awarded two Predator Press Oscars, six Predator Press Emmys, and three Predator Press Nobel Peace Prizes.

Ohura and Harrison intend to wed this year.

-As soon as they resolve the ongoing Tribble situation.

The Envelope Pushes Back

or, "Wildfire Nightmare Intensifies as Experts Suspect Arizona Somewhere in US"

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With one of possibly two surgeries out of the way and three broken bones, I have joked that I am God’s football due to the stitches. But through perseverance, I’ve got my mobility back up to about 75% within a month.

Which is good. Maybe I can retire the crutch. And I can wear shoes on both feet now, so I don’t ruin a sock every time I wobble around the block. Consequently I can worry less about the occasional broken glass shard or poisoned ninja throwing star being launched through my vulnerable heel in the middle of an intersection. (The broken glass thing happens at least twice as many times as the ninja thing: today's ninja is just not what it used to be.)

But because I kinda look healthy (I cut my wrist cast off yesterday too), I’m confusing people: a random spasm might find me inexplicably offering counter-crossing pedestrians the look a cow gives you as you pull up to a fine steak restaurant. Cops, misinterpreting my tender pain-addled gait, circle constantly suspecting I am drunk ... or maybe tryin to protect me from a mullet-sporting vintage Camaro driver with a glove box full of Viagra, roofies, and rolls and rolls of duct tape.

Either way I'm compelled to admit I am completely toxic with pain medications. Prior to the back surgery, I shrewdly purchased a handful of used PS2 and Xbox games for my convalescing amusement. Currently I have no idea where they are.

For all I know, I might have buried them in the back yard.

Not-So-Fast Food

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Someone left a slice of Pizza Hut in the sink, neglecting to jam it down into the garbage disposal.

-This brought about the rather alarming observation that the thing is so greasy it doesn’t take on water. I mean if it wasn’t boyant, I think it would make a good cork.

Or maybe a space shuttle tile.