Living Proof

WARNING: This material may be offensive to those who love and care about animals. Remember, all of the content and stories are real. All of the stories were out of 'self-defense'. If any of this offends you, I advise you to click out of this blog. Growing up in a rural town in upstate New York, my parents raised nine Great Danes and had a few cats here and there. Fifty-two acres and a big house was sufficient enough to bring in Noah’s Ark. The oldest Great Dane was bluish-black. She was beautiful. Her name was Rachel. I have no idea why they chose ‘human names’ for their dogs, but they just did. When I was born, they were worried that Rachel would get jealous and possibly hurt me. They set my crib up in their bedroom and made sure the dog was nowhere near me. God forbid something should happen to their little newborn. Well, one morning, Rachel walked into the room. I was playing with my toys on the floor. Rachel went ahead and lifted me by my shirt and brought me to her bed—wh...

Have you ever felt you’ve been hit with the bad luck streak? I’m not talking gambling-wise; I’m talking about the ‘can’t stay up on my own two feet’ type of bad luck? It’s almost as if you’re hitting puberty and your body is just way too big for your brain to function it properly. Well I had a little incident. Okay, well sort of a big incident. Well, more like an accident. I was on the phone with a buddy of mine while I was throwing back a few beers. I realized Madelene had just arrived home from work. I hung up the phone and quickly ran downstairs to prepare dinner. Now it was a pretty warm day out, so I was wearing my platform flip-flops. Yeah yeah, go ahead, call me white trash if you’d like—but they’re comfortable and well…they make me look a helluva lot taller. Joyfully skipping down the stairs, I notice one flip-flop slid off my foot and down went Deb---right on her back. To imagine what the sound effects, I will copy Mike with this one. Thuggidy thuggidy thuggidy THUMP! (And ...

Typical day in the life of Deb—doctor appointments, doctor appointments, and doctor appointments. Same ol’ hypochondriac visit as always. I had to go to the cardiologist for the fifth time to get that one more extra checkup to see why my heart was palpitating while I exercised. One cardiologist advised me it was PVC (Premature ventricular contractions.) They’re premature heartbeats originating from the ventricles of the heart. PVCs are premature because they occur before the regular heartbeat. It’s annoying when you’re trying to work out and then ---THUMP! Right in the middle of your chest, it feels as though someone was punching you …from the inside. It’s a real awkward feeling. As I walk into the office, I swear this place looked like a morgue. I can’t explain it—but the whole place looked so clinical and so eerie at the same time. I heard weird machines making the most peculiar sounds coming out of one room and people talking in foreign accents coming from another. The office wa...

It all happened so fast. I didn’t expect it at all really. She caught me by surprise. She grabbed my attention right when she walked through the door. Her hair was long and lustrous, and eyes that saw right through my soul. Her body was like a fine piece of art—that only could be admired from afar… so I thought. She started dancing and all I could do was stare in awe. Little beads of sweat were perspiring on her well-sculpted abs. Her skirt was low and her blouse was high. My rationalization of any situation I had at home disappeared, as both our eyes locked onto one another. We connected; we were tantalizing one another with eye contact. Her eyes told me that this dance wasn’t over. Her body language spoke to me, telling me she desired something other than ‘just a dance’. My eyes consented, telling her I would sign on the dotted line. I was available for the taking. As I ate my dinner and watched her dance seductively, I dropped my fork and was mesmerized by this gorgeous Latina ...

It’s just getting worse. The dilemma of avoiding germs at all costs has me in a funk. From keeping little bottles of Purell’s instant hand sanitizers in each of my coats and one in my purse--to keeping a full bottle of rubbing alochol on my desk. This has truly become either an obsession or I’ve mastered the art of battling germs. Or have I? Even with the warmer weather coming in, I still find myself wearing gloves when I go to the grocery store so I don’t have to touch those shopping carts. Maybe I should just get those long fancy gloves looking like a princess on crack. Lovely. My girlfriend kissed my hand last night. What a gentleman, huh? ...No. She kissed my hand and all I could think of was, “I need my Purell!” What’s my deal? She holds my hand, looks at me and feels me pulling away a bit. She continues to stare at me and tries to draw my hand back in. Oh no sister! You are not kissing my hand again! I have this weird thing with anyone kissing my hand. (And no Madelene, no one ...

Spring is in the air! Isn’t this the time when lovers get together? Birds are singing louder and the grass looks a whole lot greener? They say that love usually develops in the spring. What study is that? Apparently, from what I’m seeing, the most break ups happen between two people during this time. I have a slew of people I know and good friends who are either having a rocky relationship or parting. People are under the assumption that my girlfriend and I are ‘perfectly happy’. No. She gets fed up with me from time to time and we argue like any other dysfunctional couple. The occasional mango gets tossed at my head and periodically wine gets poured over hers. What are the ingredients for a ‘happy couple’? Who really knows? For me? It’s understanding and rationalizing the fact that each person in the relationship (party of two usually) are their own individual person. You do not own your partner or spouse. (Unless you paid good money for them…) It’s about respect. Sometimes I cros...

Did you ever have one of those ‘kill yourself with junk food’ weekends? Ugh. I’m sick to my stomach. Oh why oh why do I do this to myself? It’s almost the same as ‘I’ll never drink ever again’ when you’re hung over on a Sunday morning. Then what happens the weekend after that? Yep—you’re back on the saddle slugging them down like the rest of them. It all started with my father’s birthday. The family was over, and there were chips and dip laying all over every table available in the house. Great. My thighs are widening as I glance around the room. Sandwiches, potato and macaroni salad saturated in mayo with tons of other food like cheese & crackers. From fried little treats to other heart attacks on a plate were served up. The last thing I needed was to eat a slice of birthday cake. I just drank my espresso to possibly heighten my metabolism level. The healthiest thing there was all the delicious alcohol. (That’s in the category of health foods to me…just in case you’re wonderin...