LaughSum2

Reach Down To Reach Out

2008-11-21T22:27:00Z

When it comes to volunteering I’m usually the first one to stand up and volunteer… others. It’s tough to be a volunteer, mainly because a volunteer is usually asked to do a job nobody else wants to do. I mean, let’s face it, it’s rare that you ever hear, “Would anyone like to volunteer to take a week off of work and go to the Bahamas and lay on the beach?” It’s usually something like “Okay, who wants to clean the toilets today?”

Volunteering helps you think on your feet. “So, who wants to take grandma to the grocery store?” You quickly think, “I can’t. I have to… have to… go… to… the… thing… the dog show. I got… tickets… a year ago.” Many of us are afraid to volunteer. What if something better is going on… like a baseball game or shopping spree. Do you really want to give up cracker jacks or a Macy’s sale to scrub graffiti off a highway wall. Anyway, that’s modern art with a statement. The world needs to know the Crips rule and Jenny is a slut.

Why is it so hard to volunteer? Is it the commitment? Is it apathy? No, the bottom line is we’re just selfish with our time. Why build a house for the homeless when there’s probably something good on TV… like “The Flavor of Love?” Besides, this is a, “What are you going to do for me world?” There’s just no incentive to volunteer… or is there?

There are benefits to volunteering. The joy of helping someone else. The good feeling you get deep inside. And, it’s a great excuse to get away from doing household chores. “I can’t fix the garbage disposal today, honey. I volunteered to help out at the church Casino Night. You don’t, by chance, have a couple bucks on ya?” Plus, when you’re standing before God and you hand him your list of accomplishments, you better have “soup kitchen” in there somewhere, or you could be looking at some time in Hell. And don’t try to pull a fast one, believe me, He’ll know if you embellish your résumé. He knows everything, even when you fake a shoulder injury to get out of jury duty. God wants people to volunteer. It lightens His load. It gives Him a little free time to get a massage or grab a smoke.

We never think about volunteering until something bad happens to us. Then, we’re like, “a little help here. Come on, you know I’d be there for you,” is your plea. But who you fooling, when it’s your turn, the old shoulder injury acts up again. I’m telling you, you’re missing out. There is a euphoria when helping others… and it’s better than mint chocolate chip ice cream or watching someone smack into a door they were supposed to pull and not push. Remember, what goes around, comes around. Last week, I got a flat tire, and I know it’s because I cheated on my taxes in ’91.

Look I know you work hard all week and it’s tough to reach down to reach out. Volunteering should be a part of your life like… like… brushing your teeth once a week.

I mean think of all the bad things you did in your life. Teasing the chubby girl in first grade. Lying to your parents about going to the library when you really met your high school sweetheart at the mall. And let’s not forget the under-age drinking. Yeah. And I’m just scratching the surface… and now my head. Time to make amends and clear your seedy past.

We have young men and women who volunteer for the Armed Services, putting their life in jeopardy to make the world a better place. Children sell lemonade for hurricane relief. We have people giving up their Saturdays to rescue stray animals off the streets so these impressionable creatures don’t pimp out their furry bodies for biscuits or get hooked on the catnip. (It’s never pretty watching someone’s pet throw it’s life away.) Kudos to all the helpers in the world.

Will society judge you if you refuse to volunteer? Nobody should make you do what you don’t want to do – that’s a wife’s job. Only you know what’s best for you. But to answer that question, of course we’ll judge you. Judging you gets you to volunteer so we won’t judge you. Look, I volunteered to write this article, so now it’s your turn to do something. Start out simple. You can begin with washing my car.

Politically Speaking

2008-11-05T17:49:00Z

I always thought ultimate fighting was a brutal sport, that is, until I started following politics. In this game, nobody likes anybody. At least the fighters shake hands after they beat the hell out of each other. Politics is like an on-going Rosie O’Donnell and Donald Trump feud.

Why anyone would want to run for public office is beyond me. The scrutiny is relentless. One thing that would disqualify me is, well, my past. The press picks through that like a mother chimp grooming the bugs out of her baby monkey’s fur. They would find my history contains shoplifting, a bucket of gambling debts, spousal abuse where my wife kicked me to the curb, a fourth grade incident in which I lit an M-80 in the men’s room toilet, and a few nights with open-minded “ladies of the evening.” (Those evenings were not cheap.) For some reason, a night of debaucherous sex and Jell-O shooters slurped off your partner’s tummy… I just don’t think that would attract voters – at least not the women vote.

The moment I declared my intentions for running for congress, a pile of bones would pour from my closet like a rush of polluted water breaking through a New Orleans levee in a hurricane. Most of the time, a candidates downfall is the result of some seedy sex scandal. On the upside, if they would just look at my current state; they’d see that I’ve changed. I’m married, which means I have no sex life anymore. So I guess I got that going for me.

Why do people choose public office? The desire to make a difference, change the world, help the little man…, hold on, damn, now I can’t stop laughing. Why all of us wish it these noble reasons were the motivation, the truth is, it’s something more primitive. Say it ain’t so, Joe! I’m saying it. Through years of watching the news and reading the newspaper I’ve been able to contrive an Einstein-like mathematical formula to help understand the need to be a government official. It’s simply: politician equals power and greed squared.

The politician is known as a public servant, which is obviously a misnomer. The day a congressman comes over my house and weeds my flower bed, walks my dog, runs the kids to dance class, gets me a beer, feeds me grapes, and throws in a back massage then I’ll accept the label of “servant.” (Don’t get any ideas Barney Frank.)

These people are far from servants. They are rich beggars. The majority of their time isn’t spent on solving national problems like illegal immigration, healthcare, social security, alternative energy or, most importantly, getting the talent less Paris Hilton out of the limelight. No, their time is spent hobnobbing around the country on first class flights, staying in five star hotels, drinking top shelf booze and spending nights with high class hookers. Yeah, that’s right; money is all that gets raised. Instead of fixing the trade deficit, they’re sticking their corrupt-stained hands out and snatching campaign funds so they can win another term in office. Blue blood homeless bums living in great big homes… with servants. They know, without the money, they’re back to eating baby back ribs at Chili’s and being told their hour is up by some crack infested, street walker.

Yes, much time is spent on campaign financing, which might be best because it keeps them from convening and passing laws that slowly erode what minuscule rights we have left. Our government officials pick at our freedoms like a little girl at state fair pulling chunks off her fluffy wad of cotton candy. I say keep legislation out of it, if you want people to lose their rights and freedom, tell them to get married. I digress. Where was I? Oh right, politicians groveling for bucks. I say take the money out of politics and put it in my 401K.

Money is certainly important to get into office. Let’s face it, you need cash to bash. The more dollars you have the sleazier you can make your opposition look. If your opponent did cocaine when he was in college and you have a small budget you might only be able to take an ad out in a small town paper with a tiny headline that reads: “Snorting Headlines”

On the other hand, if you’ve been able to rake in some major dough from supporters, you can run sixty second TV commercials all over the country. While super imposing the head of your powdered nose paranoid opponent fumbling with a big word as an announcer with a deep, snarling voice chimes: “You want this man hoofing big fat rails in the oval office while Kim Jung IL points a missile at your city. Can we really trust a frat boy junky who so strung out he can’t even pronounce the word Hezbollah? This message approved by “Everybody who’s a Democrat.”

Could you imagine having to give speeches every day? Not me. Whenever I had to give an oral report in junior high school I was up all night throwing up and then spent the morning trying to convince my mother I couldn’t go to school because I had Polio and Scarlett Fever. It never worked and I had no choice to give my presentation while a dark, wet spot grew on the crotch of my pants in front of a giggling class.

With every politician, you know there’s always going to be some sort of sex scandal. Nothing off limits, prostitutes, teenage boys, cigars, it’s all fair game. If a politician isn’t cheating you, he’s probably cheating on his spouse, but he’s most likely doing a little of both. That’s how he spreads the wealth. But, a good sex scandal means publicity… and unlike the woman he’s with, the publicity is free.

I think my main hang-up would be taking a stance on a particular issue. The problem is; I want everyone to like me. If people were protesting something I supported, I would switch positions right then and there. I can’t stand to be hated. I hate it. I would try and flip-flop so much that nobody knew what I stood for. “I say raise taxes while were lowering them,” might be something I would put forth along with “I’m for gay marriage as long as the couple is straight.”

Something must be wrong with someone who wants to live their life under a microscope. What are you… an amoeba? No matter what you do, half the people think it’s right and the other half thinks it’s wrong and only half of these people votes. Politics, what a filthy way to spend your life. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The Romans will attest to that. Orgies were their downfall – but what a way to go. Talk about going out with a bang. Thank you folks, that’s my time. You’ve been a great audience. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses and congressman. Drive safely. (I’m talking to you Ted Kennedy.)

Badge of Honor

2008-10-24T19:54:00Z

I think it is normal to feel a little inferior about your disability. Many people who don’t have a disability have something (s) that causes them insecurity whether it be their looks, intelligence or their singing voice. Let’s face it, none of us are perfect. We all have shortcomings. However, I fear that many of us look at our disability and feel like we are not a whole person. That we’re unsure of how others may view us, especially in a negative, helpless light.

What many of us don’t realize is that a disability is a badge of honor. It shows the world that we have overcome adversity. That we don’t hide ourselves from the population. We contribute to society. Every day we out there fighting for a life -- a life that has not been easy on us. And we may not see it, but we are respected and admired by many. We set an example that life is what you make it.

Most of us probably don’t even think about our disability daily. It is what it is and we’ve learned to deal with it, making the best of our situation. And we go about our daily life overcoming obstacles but yet not imagining what an inspiration we are to others. And we are!

Do I like being disabled? No, by all means. But I am proud of the way I’ve handled the predicament. I am full of pride as I literally push through each day. And, in many places throughout my journey in life, I have given hope and inspiration to others. So, if you have a disability, hold your head high. It is a badge of honor.

Cell It Somewhere Else

2008-10-14T18:01:00Z

There must be a lot of important people in the world. I know this because everyone has a cell phone and isn’t that little device the symbol of importance? I guess when you’re out in public you always need to be doing something or you could easily be labeled a loser. Talking on the cell phone lets people know you have a life. You know someone and that someone is willing to talk to you. You’re important.

Okay, I see you on your cell phone. Aren’t you the cool one? I’m sure it’s something really important, like wishing your grandmother happy birthday or making sure your kids have put down the crack pipe and now doing their homework. But, wait. Yes, I’m eavesdropping and it doesn’t sound important. “Well, right now I’m standing in front of the deli... Okay, now I’m by my car... I’m looking up... Can you hear me now?”

It’s now impossible to sit in a movie theater, store, or restaurant and not hear a cell phone go off. Some rings are abrupt and startling. Others, have cute little ditties that resemble a famous Broadway number. But, no matter what the ring setting is, one thing’s for sure: It’s always obnoxious. Hey, turn off your ringer! You’re violating my sound space. Besides, I never liked the soundtrack to “Les Miserables,” anyway.

And when you’re in your car, chatting to your secret lover about what Motel 6 to meet at, and you swerve into my lane, don’t worry about that, I can always drive on top of the median. Who am I to tell you who you can or can’t cut off? It’s obviously your world. Oh, and when I’m behind you and the light turns green... then yellow... then red... a few times... and you still haven’t moved because you’re on the cell phone inquiring about little Jen’s soccer practice... don’t worry about me, I have no place to go... except the hospital. Besides, the doctor assured me my grandfather should be able to hold on for a few more hours.

How about when someone behind you blurts out, “So, what are you doing?” Startled, you turn around and, having no idea who this person is, you begin to answer the question. “Oh, I was just... looking around and...” Suddenly, they shoot you a strange look and walk away. It’s only then you realize they’re chatting on their cell phone. Boy, do you feel stupid -- like that time you were in a restaurant and someone you’ve never seen before waves to you. Unsure, you cautiously wave back only to realize they were waving at the person behind you. You’re waving hand slowly drops to your head as you pretend to scratch it. You cell phone people are just “sneaky.”

My all time favorite is the wannabe who walks around public places hoping someone will hear his conversation. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing tonight? Probably go out to the movies, or a play, or maybe to the Laker’s game. It all depends.” Yeah, it depends if you hit the lotto. Lower your booming voice, dude. Who you trying to fool? We know damn well what you’ll be doing tonight, big fella: Sitting in your run-down apartment, by yourself, in the dark, looking up sleazy web sites while you wait for your cell phone to ring. Case solved.

Let’s help enlighten you loud, lame talkers. Nobody cares about your plans. Keep your conversations to yourself. I always doubt there’s anyone on the other end, anyhow. Yeah, while you’re “celling it,” I’m not buying it. I’m sorry, I’m just not impressed. And the crazy thing is... I’m easily impressed. (I like those dogs that catch Frisbees.) Really, I don’t care about your “big” real estate deal you got “going down.” Nor do I believe it. If I were you, I’d quit talking on the cell phone and do something productive... like find a job, chatty boy.

Hey, come on, you don’t always have to be talking -- even if you’re a girl. Enjoy some quiet time. Take a breather. Fantasize about that person you just passed on the street. How can someone get to know you if you’re gabbing away on the phone? It’s highly unlikely I would like to know you but, somebody might, like those religious people who want you to join their church.

Okay, I understand if you’re a investment mogul, gambler, or a big-time agent, you got some calls to make and take. But the majority of us just ain’t no Warren Buffet, Pete Rose or Hollywood player. We’re just blue collar, 9 to 5 schleps living paycheck to paycheck with no health insurance. Incidentally, the average American carries $7,000.00 worth of debt. Can you say “cell phone bill?” Oh, you get free minutes? Well, good. Call your bill collectors back!

I will concede that there are times one must be on the cell phone. When you’re on the sidewalk and you see that homeless person approaching you... You damn well better hop on that phone. “Do I have any spare... what?” Your out is to point to the phone and whisper, “I can’t, I’m... on the phone right now. Long distance. It’s... Pete Rose.”

But I need it for emergencies. Yeah, right. An emergency being what? Trying to find out when the sale at Macy’s end? Trying to win Lollapalooza tickets off the radio? It’s all dribble, I say. Pure, unadulterated dribble! Well maybe, some late night, when your car breaks down on a lonely road and flesh-eating zombies are beating on your window you’ll realize what a real emergency is. You’ll grab your cell phone, dial the police, only to find your batteries dead ‘cause you spent the day talking to Cathy about what outfit to wear to the super market. By the way, you can never go wrong with teal.

The sad part of it all is, the cell phone has removed you from the world. Life is passing you by while you’re gibber-jabbering to some friend. FYI,, this friend will eventually rip you off, borrow money and never pay it back, or leave you waiting at the airport for a ride home. Trust me, a fall- out’s inevitable. (He or she will probably steal your cell phone and you won’t realize it till your stranded at the airport.) I’m telling you this cell phone is the work of the devil.

Maybe I’m just not important enough to carry a cell phone around. In reality, I think I just would rather not be contacted by anyone when I’m out squeezing produce or filling up my gas tank. “Okay, now it’s at three gallons, now four...” If you really need to talk, call me at home where I at least have a TV to distract me while you’re rattling on. “Touchdown! I’m sorry, what’d you say about your cancerous tumor?”

The Big Job Hunt

2008-09-02T23:30:00Z

I am in the process of hunting for a job. The problem is I don’t have any experience in anything useful – unless petting a kitty cat is a sought after skill. I must accept the blame for this. Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to further my education or perhaps work part-time to keep up with the times. Yes, times have changed and they are changing more rapidly with new technology. Unfortunately, I’ve been left behind. Again, totally my fault.

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t been lounging around in life I’ve been following a dream of an entertainer/writer – usually working on my craft everyday. Since I have not made the big time and bills are piling up I am left to reinvent myself and search for new direction in my life. Without years of experience in a stable career, it’s tough to get hired. Throw in a disability and things aren’t looking too peachy.

Maybe it’s me but whenever I interview for a position I get this icky, eerie sense that my prospective employer doesn’t think I can handle the mustard… or the ketchup. (I relish the thought.) And perhaps, because of my disability, I’m rendered incapable of doing what the “normal” person can do. (I thought people with disabilities were thought of as geniuses, i.e. Stephen Hawkins.) I could be wrong about the feeling I get (you know, like when your girlfriend is cheating on you) but when people can’t look you in the eye something ain’t right.

What to do in life? Maybe I can sell something. The problem is, I’m not a good liar, like my girlfriend. I guess I can’t sell my body – that’s broken. I doubt it would rake in the dough, anyway. I’ll start with the vocational rehab peps and see where that takes me and continue to go on job interviews. My fear is I’ll be stuffed in a corner stuffing envelopes with no chance of advancement. (Although, I am I good licker.) If anyone knows of a good job, please let me know. I’m willing to start at the top and quickly work my way to the bottom. I’ll leave it at that.

But It's Our Story

2008-08-25T18:24:00Z

I have a friend whose girlfriend gets jealous whenever he tells anyone his story about how he became disabled. The guy lost his leg in a car accident. (He later found it in a lost-and found box.) I kid. I wonder if a lot of people close to a disabled person get tired, annoyed or even jealous upon hearing their “story” over and over again. Personally, I’ve never encountered any negativity from people, but I do wonder if it does get old.

The thing is our story is sacred to us and everybody has a different one; The car accident. The diving blunder. Nerve damage. The head injury. The MS diagnosis. The list goes on. It is a defining point in our life, changing us forever. We are proud to tell others about out tragic experience and how we overcame adversity. We want to give inspiration, not jealousy.

In all honesty, I‘m tired of telling my story (spinal cord injury). It seems so long ago and frankly, it bores me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have pride in how far I’ve come since then, it’s just done, over with and life has gone on. However, when someone asks about it, I am more than willing to share my experiences. From the ambulance to the hospital through physical therapy all the way to independence, people are often curious about it. Hey, if it’s something that gives people hope, strength and thankfulness – all the better. We are here to fulfill each others lives by what we have encountered throughout our own journey and sharing it. Hopefully, the people around me will understand that and put up with my story of how I became disabled.

Why We Are Disabled

2008-08-15T18:49:00Z

Some years ago a woman by the name of Betty Eadie wrote a book called “Embraced By The Light” about her near-death experience where she visited heaven and met God. The book gives some wonderful insight into why we are here and the purpose of life. I urge you to read it. According to her, before coming to this world we were all deficient in certain areas of our spiritual life. To “fix” this we were sent to this world (by our Creator) and given a plan that would teach us how we needed to be -- which is perfect in every way and closer to God. As spirits, we were very excited to come here and learn as much as we could to help us grow. Everybody’s plan is different and we are given what we need to achieve our purpose. So, some of us will be given more hardship than others. Why? There is no greater teacher than adversity. Through difficult times we learn humbleness, importance, patience, strength and most of all love. Curiously enough, this woman states many spirits enthusiastically embrace the chance to be disabled in this world because you learn so much more and grow faster. They (we) happily volunteer for this great opportunity to elevate their (our) spiritual life and become closer to God. In short, we are positioned to maximize our time here on earth. I believe most of us feel that our disability is not a coincidence. Things have happened to us for a reason. We all have trials and tribulation in life, some more than others. In the end it is all about what we learned, how we grew and who we loved. If having a disability has helped us to achieve these things, all the better. Nobody said life would be easy but we all have a plan and our disability is part of that purpose. If you realize this you can look at your disability as a blessing instead of a burden. Your rewards will be waiting for you.

Are Disabled People Attractive?

2008-08-08T05:43:00Z

Wow, what a crazy question. I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but to ask it. I’ve often wondered how people see me. For the most part, I’ve been pretty lucky over the years with the whole dating thing. I can usually tell if someone is attracted to me or not. There have been times when I see a totally hot babe only to find she’s not interested in me. Of course you always wonder if it’s you she’s just not attracted to or if it’s the disability that turned her off. It’s not like she’s going to tell you. “Of course it’s not your disability, honey,” she says. “You’re just ugly.” Well thank God for that. I thought you were shallow.

I’ve also been out with my buddies and have been the one who gets the girl only to hear my friends state, “I gotta get me a wheelchair.” Yeah, I hate to say it but, the disability has also helped land me a chick or two. Not the same night, though. Maybe they think a disabled person can be trusted. Fools, I say, but I’ll take it. Use whatever you got, baby. I’ll take a sympathy date as long as she’s buying.

I’ve got to be honest with you… I’m not attracted to disabled people. I mean, come on, what if I dated another quad. Somebody’s gotta do the heavy lifting in the relationship. (I mean the moving and grooving in the sack.) It would just be too difficult to be with another quad. What would we do? Lay in bed smoking cigarettes, talking about how good it could’ve been? Bump and grind wheelchairs? Besides, by the time either of us got undressed it would be morning. I’m sorry, I think it’s best if I stay away from my own kind.

This, by no means, means that I think disabled people are unattractive. To each his or her own. I never really know how others view me. It’s probably not important. How cliché it might sound but what’s important is how I see myself. That’s who I have to live with. If I’m mean, rude or bitter I’m probably an ugly person. As for looks, we are what we are. Take it or leave it. Life will still go on.

So are disabled people attractive? Who knows? Who cares? There’s somebody for everybody out there. Yeah you might not get that hot babe or that gorgeous guy but, who knows, you might get something better; someone who loves you for who you are.

Act The Way You Want To Feel

2008-07-31T17:20:00Z

Let’s face it, we’ve changed. We are not the same people we once were before we became disabled. Our disabled circumstances have changed us from the person we used to be. A lot of times it’s for the better. We understand life more. We deal with the challenges. We learn to be more patient. We have most likely become attuned to life’s trials and tribulations.

We long for what could be but accept the here and now. We understand our limitations and do our best to move forward. However, some people move in the opposite direction. They become bitter, depressed and turn on life. The disability has hardened their soul and sucked the life out of them.

How to change. It’s difficult to change from the inside out. I mean… you just can’t tell yourself you’re going to be happy. That might work for five minutes. The best way to change your attitude is through your behavior – the outside-in approach. If you don’t feel happy, act happy. If you don’t feel loving, act loving. In short, act the way you want to feel, not the way you feel. And yes, I am saying put up a façade around others. You’d be surprise how behavior can affect your attitude. Fight for your well-being.

No, it’s not wrong to feel bad, unhappy, sad, disappointed, depressed or any other detrimental emotions. It’s all part of life. It’s feeling these things ALL the time that’s the problem. People don’t want to be around someone who’s a downer. It gets old very quickly and they probably won’t be around you too long. Be upbeat! And when these people are surrounded by your positive energy they’ll be lifted up and in return you’ll be elevated. Hopefully over time and through your actions you’ll suppress unhealthy feelings and convince yourself that you are happy. You are loving. You are good. I know this may seem radical but why take the alternative? Even with a disability, you deserve the best for yourself.

Dissing The Disabled

2008-07-25T18:09:00Z

Don’t know if this happens to a lot of disabled people but I thought I’d throw it out as a topic. Disabled people not only have to deal with physical problem but also mental attitudes… and sometimes by the people who are closest to you. If people hobbled or rolled a mile in our shoes they would most likely understand where we are coming from.

There are few things about my disability that get me angry. I’ve somehow made it through the rough stages and adjusted. But there is one thing that really gets my panties in a bunch (their flowered with butterflies) and that is when impatience rears its ugly head as a result of my disability. An example is when I’m getting ready to go out and “someone” (Oh, let’s say my spouse) is angry because it’s taken awhile for me to get ready. She releases that annoying sigh, or rolls her eyes when I say it’ll be another ten minutes. I’m about to explode because I’m doing the best that I can. And there’s nothing worse then that irritating, snappy, “Are you ready yet?” Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Somebody call COPS, there’s going to be a beating tonight.

Going to the bathroom is no day at the beach either. It takes awhile for a quad struggling to get his zipper down. It’s not like you’re about to have sex and you’re willing to rip your pants off. You tapping your foot and looking at your watch while I’m off pissing really pisses me off! Don’t disrespect the disabled. Holy Guacamole, patience, my little, antsy rabbit.

Having a disability is frustrating enough and it doesn’t help when someone makes you feel like you’re a burden. There’s people all over the world dying of hunger and herpes and you’re upset cause I can’t put my shoes on faster. How ‘bout I plant my shoe up your… I’m sorry. I digress out of frustration.

Look, my point to you impatient pigs is, just let me do what I gots to do. It may take a little time but I’m worth it. I’m a good guy with a lot of love in my belly. Take it easy. Sit back and shoot up some heroine. Like Mick Jagger once said, “You can put me out on the street but I’ll never, never, never be… your beast of burden.” I say deal with it, I have. Ain’t I crazy?

Help From My Kind

2008-07-18T16:31:00Z

So, the other day I went to lunch with a friend of mine – a crippled friend. Is he a friend because he’s handicapped? Hardly. He’s a friend because we have a lot of things in common – things like we’re both from back east, sports, relationship stories, but most importantly, our disability.

Being disabled is usually not a major topic of conversation but it does come up from time to time. We swop gimpy stories and air our grievances from leg spasm to phantom pains. Both of us try not to bitch and moan too much, instead we try and stay positive, realizing we have something good to offer the world. We feed off each others successes and plot our next goals.

John Siciliano, like me, is in the entertainment business. He’s is an actor and I am a comedian. We had met at a charity event in Hawaii. John is also a Business Development Coordinator, working for a company called Endolite. Not knowing much about his profession, it became the topic of the hour. John is an AK amputee, selling and promoting artificial legs. I give him a lot of credit, hiking around the country going to trade shows, hospitals, dealers and giving presentations for OT and PT’s. It can’t be easy on a one-legged man. More importantly, it’s always great to see one of your own making a difference in the world and it provides you with inspiration and motivation.

How boring this all may seem it does have a purpose. I have a friend who recently lost his foot to diabetes and was having trouble getting a new limb. John gave me the name of his Prosthetist, Phil Conley, from Hanger Orthopedics and my friend went there and they are currently resolving the problem. I come across this all the time in my life. I meet a disabled person. We share common interests. And, we all help each other out. In short, the disabled helping the disabled. Does it get any better than that?

Gimp Sex

2008-06-27T17:49:00Z

Well, I figured I’d write a blog on sex since that is a sure fire guarantee to get hits. You know people are curious on what it would be like to have sex with a disabled person. I’m sure they’re wondering if we can handle the mustard. (No I’m not talking about anything kinky.) Because were often viewed as different, I’m quite sure that having sex with a disabled person would be thought of a different experience. The good part is that we don’t have to do as much except lay back and enjoy the ride (hee, hee, hee). I’ll take that. I got no pride.

It’s scary when you reach that point in your relationship when it’s “go time” and “show time.” Your partner is ready to hop in the sack and you’re focused on your disability. No matter how you slice and dice it you always have a lingering doubt if your partner will enjoy you -- if your “performance” will be up to par. Nobody wants to be the lousy lay.

These feelings cause anxiety and stress. Sometimes these feelings are so overwhelming that disabled people choose to forego any involvement in a relationship. Unfortunately, this leads to a limited life and as human beings we all want to be loved with all the perks that come with it. (I’m talking ‘bout sex, hee, hee,hee.)

A lot of people ask me if sex is still the same as it was before my accident. I say, “Hell no, the prices have gone way up!” You shouldn’t let your disability affect your intimacy. Your partner is with you for a reason – most likely because they like you (unless you have a lot of money – but you probably don’t because you’re disabled.) Life is very short and, most likely shorter for us, so don’t let your disability dictate your enjoyment and fulfillment in life. Have a cocktail and tear it up, my friend. It’s kinda fun!

It's A Pain Getting Old

2008-06-23T17:13:00Z

I’ve noticed as I’m getting older I’m feeling a lot more aches and pains then I ever have in my whole life. Some of this is probably normal, coming with age, but I really think a large part is also due to having a disability. When you’re disabled you end up using muscles to do things that they were never intended to be used for. For instance, as a quad with no triceps, I depend an awful lot on my shoulders – especially transferring. And, after years of transferring, my shoulders having taken a bigger beating than the Lakers took in game six. Every time I have to transfer I hear myself saying, “Oh man, not this again.” I knew I should’ve studied levitation in college.

I’ve also been pushing a wheelchair for twenty-five years and it’s no day at the beach. (Thank God, cause it’s a bear wheeling through sand.) -- We were given legs for a reason – and not just to kicking your computer when it freezes. It’s not easy walking around on your arms all day – we’re not one of those Cirque Du Soleil freaks. Most of us don’t realize the stress we put on our muscles from pushing a wheelchair -- especially if you’re missing some psi’s in your tires. But, pushing that beast, is just a normal part of our day. I don’t want to get an electric wheelchair because they offer too much temptation to run people over. Perhaps one day a week I should hire an illegal immigrant to carry me around all day so I can give my arms a rest. What? I would pay them.

My mind still feels young but those times when I’m pushing up one of those long ass ramps I’m asking myself “Did I volunteer to be a disabled guy before being put on this earth?” Maybe God misunderstood me. “Hey Almighty, I said ‘pimp’ not ‘gimp’.” But, throughout all the aches and pains I now endure, I always keep in mind that there’s always someone worse off than me and I’m thankful that I can do things that others can’t.

Anyway, I must go. This achy forty-year-old, old man needs to go lay down for a little while -- so I’ll be well rested for my nap later.

Wheel Fun!

2008-06-16T16:58:00Z

If I were disabled and in a wheelchair, I think that I would be a menace to society. Just for fun I would race around in malls and “accidentally on purpose” run into people. They wouldn’t yell at me or hit me because, come on, you’re in a wheelchair and they would look foolish having a David-and-Goliath confrontation. Yes my friend, being in a wheelchair, gives you a license to terrorizing folks.

It’s tempting to cruise around in a wheelchair. You can rest your flabby legs. People leap out of your way. You get patted on the head. Other people in wheelchairs, who think you ought to take the stairs, don’t sneer at you in an elevator. The bathroom stalls offer well-needed elbowroom and possibly a racquetball court, if you can get up a game. Plus, the parking spots to die for. And finally, you’re always moved to the front of the line – a great way to make extra money renting yourself out at Disneyland.

Wheelchairs are fun. There’s the joy of popping wheelies, jumping trashcans, zipping between people’s legs. The exuberance of flying down ramps and letting the wind whip through your hair like you’re eating a York Peppermint Patty. I can dig that. Just get out of my way or you might just wind up in a wheelchair yourself.

If you’re in a wheelchair, you bet your boots people will cater to you. And there’s nothing wrong with that – unless you’re one of those goofy people with a conscious. When you go into a crowd in a wheelchair, the mob moves out of the way. This miracle reaction is up there with the parting of the Red Sea. People like to tell other people to watch out, there’s a guy in a wheelchair. This gives them a good feeling that they’re helping out the world. It takes away their guilt for parking in a handicap spot.

How glamorous it might sound to be in a wheelchair, there are some issues. Cracks in the sidewalk can be troublesome. Brakes failing on steep ramps are no fun as you push breaking the sound barrier. Also, for some reason, you become a magnet to others searching for a friend. “Look at the poor guy in a wheelchair. The crippled fellow is probably lonely and wants some company.” Yeah, if you’re buying the drinks. But the worst thing is that everyone has that one story about when they were in a wheelchair that you would have to listen to. It usually starts out with the line, “I know what you’re going through...” Then you’re stuck in a bored limbo, listening to their ordeal when they had an ingrown toenail and were laid up for several hours wondering how they were going to get a Keebler cookie from the top cabinet. Yeah, they understand your plight of the disabled, for sure.

The best wheelchairs are those electric scooters. Those things haul #@*! However, there is nothing more frightening than one of those all-terrain vehicles barreling down on you with some crazed old man at the wheel with a look of dementia in his eyes. Scary stuff. He’s got nothing to lose. It’s not like anyone going to sue him for his box of Depends.

Baby boomers will soon be moving into the wheelchair age. It won’t be long until the sidewalks are littered with ‘handicapped’ buggies. They’ll probably cause accidents, wheelchair pile-ups, and SigAlerts. Wheelchair rage will undoubtedly become a common term and a major problem, with elderly folks shooting at each other with enema bags. And with crime the way is there will most likely be a slew of wheelchair jackings.

Still, walking is a lot of work. It’s exercise, and let’s face it, nobody likes that stuff. Don’t get me wrong, pushing a wheelchair isn’t easy, but at least you don’t get blisters on your feet. If you can go through life sitting on your tucas, I don’t see the problem. You only have to worry about flat tires, but as long as you have Cripple A, you’re good to go. So my suggestion to you is get out there to your local wheelchair dealership and get yourself a new set of wheels. Especially with gas prices the way they are, dawg, this is the ideal form of transportation. Pimp your ride? No, I say gimp your ride.

Why Be Blogging?

2008-06-09T20:27:00Z

Being idle almost always provides an opportunity for a lot of negativity to creep into your life. When you’re doing nothing boredom sets in, causing misery. It’s no secret that when you’re disabled the amount of activities you can do is somewhat limited, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s not the quantity but the quality. The important objective is to stay busy and push forward. At the end of the day you want to be able to say you accomplished something.

Blogging is something everyone can do and it achieves several goals. One is it gets you doing something productive. You get to put you thoughts down for everyone to see. They may be informative, insightful, funny, seductive, etc. The skies the limit. Another reason to blog is that you get to bitch and whine to people you don’t even know. Every little thing that bothers you can be tossed out to the world. It’s quite cathartic. It sorts out your life and puts things into perspective. You also can help others. Maybe you have a suggestion on how to pick up a girl. And maybe it really works. I doubt it but who knows, it could help the dateless ugly guy – someone like me. You might change a life.

Blogging is not only a good hobby but it invites others into your life, creating friendships. You find people with the same interests. Also, since it is not a face-to-face encounter you are basically free to spill your guts. Go crazy! Tell the world you like to roll around naked on your carpet giggling like a school girl. Hey, nobody knows you.

As a disabled person, it’s nice to know you’re not the only one going through the day-to-day troubles we sometimes have to deal with. I know. I read the Disaboom blogs. I realize everyday we’re all fighting for our life or a life.

Why do I blog? Well, for one thing it keeps me busy and I can put my energy into being productive. I like to know at the end of day I’ve accomplished something, how small it may seem. And, who knows, maybe my words might touch someone.