Oxygen is so underrated. I’ve come to appreciate it more and more in the past month as I have lost the ability to process it. Despite being invisible and tasteless (kind of like Pauly Shore’s career status) it seems to do good things for the body. However, shortly after New Year’s, my lungs decided they had enough and didn’t want any more. From their point of view I guess it’s understandable – you can only watch Bio-Dome so many times before shooting yourself. But that doesn’t really help my cause much. I’m not quite ready to kick this habit of “living”, so something had to be done.

My family doctor retired a couple years ago, so I went to a facility called “UrgentCare”. I was somewhat concerned when at the check-in counter they asked me which combo number I wanted. The doctor was nice enough though and came up with a solid plan to heal me: one bottle of Robitussen DM and one bottle of Amoxicillian.

Sure enough, three weeks later after I had finished both bottles, I had the robust lungs of an 18 year old – particularly an 18 year old trying to get high off the tailpipe of his dad’s ’68 Mustang. I had already missed a good deal of work (“Well, can’t say I was really missing it, Bob!)which does lead to co-worker annoyal. So I went to plan B and called my allergist. I told the receptionist what I had been taking, and she laughed. Amoxicillian it turns out only kills about .0000000003% of the germs out there. Basically I had charged into to battle armed with fluffy pillow.

The allergist couldn’t see me for a couple days, but that was no reason he couldn’t start pumping me with drugs. He called my pharmacist and hooked me up with a Howitzer antibiotic called Augmentin which kills everything it comes in contact with. I’m going to miss my pharmacist.

He also put me on a steroid, called Prednisone. It said to take 8 per day. No problem, I’ll just take one an hour for 8 hours and call it good. Actually not good. Fortunately my wise girlfriend stepped in before I medicated my self out of existence. She wrote out a schedule (she’s cool like that) for taking one every three hours. So when 1:30am and 4:30 rolled around, it was a real treat for this narcoleptic.

She also made me read and learn all the side effects of the drugs I am ingesting. I can’t remember what they are, but they were probably important. I do remember my roommate’s warnings though, as he was on Prednisone last summer. He gained twenty pounds and suffered feelings of rage. One day he ripped the entire garage apart, before running out to the yard, screaming at cars to pull over, so he could pull the driver out and beat them up. Fortunately I have an advantage over my roommate in that I am not certifiably insane.

I finally did see my allergist, who decided my drug to blood content still wasn’t high enough. He added Pseudovent to my regiment. It’s a super decongestant, expectorant that someone once told me (my girlfriend?) could also make you break out it hives. And it does. But I always break out in hives anyway (have every night since 10th grade, but that’s another story). I may be itchy, but I am breathing again and have never been happier.

I was alarmed when a friend recently wrote complaining that by the end of the day, she was so overstimulated and tired that she could no longer use compound words. I am quite worried that she may not be alone and fear we may be looking a verbal epidemic.

Ironically it appears our fast paced lifestyles created by our advances in technology are actually regressing us to neanderthals. Our brains, constantly barraged with activity all day are unable to form bi-worded words, reducing us to grunt “Me want food”, “Cat go pee”, “Idol show bad”. What’s worse, if this phenomenon spreads globally, then Germany in particular will be crippled, no longer able to cram whole sentences into one word like “Damenoberkleidung”.

While there may be no hope for the Hessians, we can still take action here at home. I have compiled a list of compound words that will get one through almost any situation:

Foghorn
Dustbuster
Honeydew
Wolfman
Bellbottom
Slaphappy
Carpetbagger
Tapeworm
Moonbeam
Egghead

I would strongly suggest you keep this list on your possession at all times.

My girlfriend’s house is located back in a heavily wooded area that I suspect was once a thriving nuclear test site. It is not uncommon in the summer for spiders in her yard to grow to the size of your head. They spin unthinkably large webs to catch their favorite snack, the 1988 Chevette. There were also the giant mutant skunks we found. Of course they weren’t giant at the time because they were babies, but I’d bet they are as big as grizzly bears by now. Nothing however could prepare us for nature’s latest attack – wild turkeys!

Now you may not find turkeys to be all that intimidating, and I understand why. My cousins used to have a turkey farm – turkeys that were nice, small, complacent, and above all, dumb. I mean really dumb. They were so dumb that when it rained, my uncle would have to shoo them inside before they drowned. How does one drown in the rain? Just look up at the sky and keep your mouth open. I am not kidding. They were really that dumb

But these unholy aberrations known as “wild” turkeys are different. My girlfriend was brave enough to take a couple pictures before she was probably eaten, and the images are terrifying. Giant hulking birds everywhere, moving in a carefully strategized hunting formation. One turkey would distract you from the front until two others could sneak up behind you and spring their murderous ambush.

It’s probably already too late for me, but there still may be time to save your selves. The key is to listen for their stalking call which you can listen to here (be warned, if you have children have them leave the room immediately)

http://www.nwtf.org/special_events/turkey_calls_purr.html

If you hear this bonechilling sound, run like hell, get inside and lock the doors. Otherwise you will quickly find yourself the main course at the gobbler’s buffet. Good luck and may god help us all.

• A recent study revealed that olive oil may actually help prevent breast cancer. Tests showed that oleic acid, the main monounsaturated fatty acid in olive oil, suppressed one of the most important genes associated with breast cancer.

Several doctors have taken the study to heart, recommending women massage their breasts with olive oil several times a day. Some even claim the body best absorbs the oil in a “wrestling ring” environment.

• Researchers are now claiming that people who sleep more may actually weigh less. Dr. Robert Vorona, an assistant professor of sleep medicine at Eastern Virginia Medical School, believes that lack of sleep may set off hormonal changes that affect appetite. A full night of restful sleep will create hormonal patterns that control hunger. On the contrary, someone who sleeps little will invariably suffer cravings for human flesh.

• Several people are ushering in the new year with fitness resolutions, ranging from prostate exams and pilates to low carb diets and bleached needles. But one program in particular is sweeping the country: The 2005 Pushup Challenge. It’s quickly grown in popularity because it is simple, inexpensive and requires no equipment at all.

I decided to see what all the hype was about and put the Pushup Challenge to the test. I am now 5 days in to the challenge and am sorry to report, not only did I not lose weight, but I have actually gained over 17 pounds! The Challenge is an obvious failure, as I have eaten nothing but Pushups for the last week.

• A second case of mad cow disease was discovered in Canada on Sunday just days after the United States said it would to reopen its border to Canadian beef. The dairy cow from Alberta tested positive for bovine spongiform, the cause of the fatal and unpronounceable Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. The USDA however insists the public is not at risk and should not panic because after all “Canada doesn’t count.”

Had store credit and a new video game crying out to me (a sequel to a Star Wars game the effectively ruined my life a couple months ago) So, to justify buying it, I made a deal with myself. I will complete one writing assignment of my choice before I can play every night. Here was tonight’s:

REALLY REAL BAD OPENING LINES FOR A STORY

1. He had played drinking games before, but nothing quite prepared him for dodge the pitbull.

2. It’s not easy to follow your heart, especially when it’s in a ziplock bag somewhere across the border.

3. A cold cold wind spilled in through cracked opaque window of Jim’s wounded soul.

4. He gazed longingly into the dark smoldering eyes of the most beautiful chicken alive.

5. There once was a boy, two rabbits, a cabbage, a boiling pot and a can of lard.

6. Things were so much better back when gas was cheap and women knew their place.

7. Maybe once in a lifetime does someone experience that feeling the French probably have a name for.

8. “I challenge you to a duel,” he said, “my triangle versus your tambourine!”

9. “Well let’s see”, said Betty while looking at her watch, “yes that would work, but
should I bring grandma or leave her in the trunk?”

10. Tommy really really loved parades, but not as much as he loved peanut butter, which he loved slightly more than oatmeal cookies, but not nearly as much as he loved spankings.