Olympic-sized Physical

Today I venture into the doctor's office for the annual physical. This appointment is daunting, and is nothing like the routine physical of the young Olympic athlete. I must bring my checkbook. And my nerve.
In the annual physical the older male is subjected to a series of pokes, prods, and needle-jabs--all designed to insure him that he is ageing as God intended and will die at the appropriate 78.5 years allotted him. Among the various indicators of his health include:

Blood Pressure Check--which is conducted in handcuffs by a beautiful nurse who, afterwards, asks him to disrobe. Naturally, this sends his blood pressure sky high and the doctor immediately administers medication to offset these "excited palpitations".

Cholesterol Jab--here a large needle, roughly the size of Wyoming, is inserted into the older man's arm and a quart of blood is siphoned into a Styrofoam cup. The blood is sent to a lab in Indonesia where it is subjected to a series of picklings, boilings, and consistency tests. The results are sent back over the internet to the doctor's office, along with a menu of lunch options, where a nursing staff interprets the results and determines that the older male is a high-health risk and must immediately be dropped by his insurer. Naturally, there is laughter, but after drawing straws the losing nurse calls the older male and informs him that his cholesterol level is higher than Mount Everest and that, statistically, he should have died four years ago when he last ate at Denny's. Options are offered, including giving up the donuts, cutting out the ice cream, or nixing the butter. The older male rolls the dice of fate and continues to enjoy them all.

HDL--this is the "good cholesterol" which the older male should have in abundance. Naturally, he has little of it, and also tests for low levels of testosterone, libido, and will-power. The doctor tells him to eat more nuts, but the older male is already eating forty pounds of almonds per day and rarely has a banana. Again, the prognosis is not pretty and the doctor, at this point, usually throws up his hands and says, "I can't work like this!"

Eye and Ear Check--here a bright light is shined into the eyes and the older male is asked to read an eye chart containing words like "GYBRZNIK" and "XTUBLUMP", which he cannot pronounce. Afterwards, a sharp instrument is inserted into the ears and the doctor yells, "Can you hear me now!?"

Prostate Exam--enough for today. We shall save this for another time.

Salon.com

In response to the growing popularity of this Manopause blog, you can now visit my insanity on Salon.com.

Just go to the Open Salon icon and find me (Todd Outcalt) or the blog (Manopause) and enjoy a laugh.

Thanks for reading.

Travelin' Man

As a man ages, he becomes adept at packing for a trip.  His plans consist of five pair of underwear which, if he doesn't sweat too heavily, could easily last for five weeks.  He also packs two shirts, one pair of Bermuda shorts (which he plans to wear for the entire trip), and a couple of pair of socks.  He also packs one pair of dress pants in case his wife wakes up one morning and announces, "Let's go to the theatre."  The remainder of his packing is completed by his wife, who removes the five pair of underwear, the shirts, and the shorts and inserts entirely new offerings that she believes will be more consistent with her own wardrobe selection and color scheme.

The traveling man, upon arrival at the hotel, is flabbergasted to find a completely different attire than he packed himself.  But he is grateful for the help and agrees to buy his wife some nacho chips or a big pretzel from one of those street vendors who specialize in botulism and certain types of bubonic plague. 

When the older man travels he also comes prepared with charts and maps.  These he has drawn up himself on small slips of paper, having planned the entire trip late at night during Conan reruns.  When he arrives at his destination he scraps these charts when his wife says, "Let's just wing it."

The traveling man also prides himself on being able to hail a cab--especially if the driver is from a Far Eastern nation or has a twelve-inch scar running diagonally across his face that is still oozing puss.  An older man is not put-off by these idiosyncrasies, but, in fact, embraces them as part of the melting-pot diversity of America.  He wishes that his own name had forty-seven consonants and no vowels.

In time the traveling man settles into his new surroundings and wishes that he and his wife had not brought along the eighteen-year-old college freshman.  They wonder if they should have left him in Queens instead of watching David Letterman and wondering, "Could we have been sitting in the Letterman audience tonight if we had joined the stand-by line?"

Rather, the traveling man comforts himself with cold showers each morning and ventures out onto the street to find a cup of coffee strong enough to strip veneer off a piano bench.  He says "Good morning" to complete strangers and stares up into a facade of skyscrapers so tall that some of them have their own zip codes.  He does not try to hide the fact that he is a tourist, but embraces his own nerdiness, not ashamed of the fact that he has wondered onto the street without shoes.  But he is at home among the derelicts and drops a few dimes.

Later, when he greets his wife, he offers her a morning newspaper and his undying gratitude.  That, of course, is something he can take home.  But he realizes it only when he is on vacation.   

Ode to Andy

While watching late-night TV in a hotel room in New York, I learned about the death of Andy Griffith.  Griffith was 86 and certainly one of my favorite actors.  I was, after all, born the week (October 12, 1960) that The Andy Griffith Show premiered on CBS (October 8, 1960).  I grew up with Opie, Aunt Bee, Gomer, Goober, Floyd, Barney and good ol' Andy.

I don't remember the Griffith Show in first run, but the show has never been off the air since it premiered, and the AGS reruns were a huge part of my early memories and television entertainment.  At one time (long before the 8 seasons were produced in DVD format for sale), I had video-taped all of the episodes (249 total) by hand on VHS format over the course of several years.  I have led many AGS "Bible Studies" as well, and these were some of the best-attended studies I've conducted over the years.  I know most of the episodes by heart and can recite many line-for-line.

Many folks also don't understand how versatile an actor Griffith was.  He got his start in the movie, A Face in the Crowd, which was quite dramatic, and went on to become a gospel recording star (a Grammy-winner) and the star of a second successful show: Matlock.

I'll miss Andy (but I have most of his movies, TV shows, and CD's on my shelves).  Nevertheless, I've got to write a bit about him.  How about an Ode?  (And I have no idea what an ode is.)

Ode to Andy

Some people might balk at a sheriff
Who never carried a gun,
But you never seemed to care if
You had enough laughter and fun.

You had a son named Opie
But no wife or an ex
And though your show was hokey
You must have once had sex.

Of course the town was simple,
Though in its own way, wise.
And you dished out a heart-full
Like Aunt Bee dished out pies.

We loved your sidekick, Barney,
And Otis and the rest.
And though the show was corny
We felt that we were blessed.

We'll miss you, Andy Taylor,
And hope you rest in peace,
Though many still may pray for
More episodes like these:

That we'll dodge Barney's bullet
And laugh until we die
And meet you some day yonder
In that jailhouse in the sky.

Yes, Butt . . . .

Most men like to think that they are working their butts off.  This is a man's prerogative.  And it's difficult to do.

Working your butt off requires complete dedication and long hours.  A man might start with lots of butt, but if he's dedicated, he can work his butt off in a few years.  In fact, others might notice that he's working his butt off long before he does.  Usually it's other men who say, "Man, you're really working your butt off!" or "You worked your butt off on that project."

Once a man works his butt off, however, he will want to keep it off.  And the only way to keep it off is to continue working his butt off.  He will want to work weekends, holidays, overtime.  Whatever it takes.  If he has a family he will want to inform them that, while he is sorry if they feel neglected or abandoned, it is imperative that he work his butt off.  After all, his family should be supporting him while he is working his butt off.  He will show love for his family by working his butt off. 

Men who work their butts off are assets to their communities, too.  People all over town will notice and say, "No one works his butt off like this guy!"  Or if the man is involved in athletics, the coach will take note and say, "He's really working his butt off out there!"  A baseball manager will note: "He's coming around this season and starting to work his butt off!"  Sometimes the boss will give a man a bonus and say, "This is for working your butt off."

Men who have worked their butts off are easy to identify.  They have, after all, worked their butts off.  They are rather one-dimensional. 

Men, however, should never tell a woman, "Gosh, you've worked your butt off!"  This would not be appropriate and could get him into trouble.  Even if his wife were to ask, "Does this dress make my butt look big?", he can't respond by saying, "Are you kidding me?  You've worked your butt off!"  She would never believe that she's worked her butt off, even if she's taking care of seventeen children and has spent an entire week painting the house in ninety-degree heat . . . she would never say, "I worked my butt off this week."  Women don't like to admit that they have worked their butts off.  Women are concerned about their butts, of course, but they don't want anyone to think they have worked their butts off.  This would be drawing attention to their butts, which women don't like to do.  But in private they might actually think, "Geewhiz, I wish I could work my butt off!"

Men have a penchant for working their butts off.  They like to think that they are working their butts off, even if they are not working their butts off.  But they would never look in the mirror and say, "Holy Cow!  I've worked my butt off!"  However, they might say to another guy, "You may not realize this . . . but you are working your butt off!"

Of course, one good thing a man can say about working his butt off is that he's actually accomplished something.  It may be the only thing he ever achieves in his lifetime. 

Butt . . . if he keeps working . . . . 

Home Repair

Sooner or later every older man decides that he will save lots of money by doing his own home repairs.  Plumbing, painting, electrical . . . he will become the handyman his wife has always dreamed about. 

Toward that end, we offer here a few tips that will make these home repairs both enjoyable and rewarding.  In fact, a man might even get sex as a reward, so long as he doesn't electrocute himself or paint his face blue.

So, let's begin . . .

First, as for plumbing.  A man should make sure that he has the appropriate tools.  This may require that he spend upwards of two thousand dollars on a full set of pipe wrenches, cutters, vice grips, sockets, and a soldering gun.  If he can afford these, he can do his own plumbing repairs and can also be assured that he will never need any of these tools. All he will need is a ball peen hammer and a full slate of curse words.  A drip bucket also comes in handy after a man breaks the pipe in half and, during the winter, the bucket can also be used as a spare toilet next to the bed in case his children need to puke.  In addition, it always comes in handy to know where the "shut-off" valves are in the basement, so that the water supply can be cut off entirely for two months while his wife works evenings and weekends to locate a plumber named "Delicious Dave".

Now, on to painting. Every man believes he can paint.  And well.  In fact, most men will say--when they are standing in front of a Picasso--"Hell, I coulda painted that!"  His wife will point out, however, that Picasso was both a genius and a great lover--both attributes that he lacks--and that her husband could scarcely complete a canvas of the ocean in a paint-by-number set designed for Kindergartners.  Nevertheless, every older man will attempt to paint the living room at least once, and the basement twice before his wife slaps his forehead with a wet paint stick and says, "I'm calling a painter!"  But if the man insists on painting a room, here is how it should be done.

Step one:  cover the carpeting with fourteen layers of newspaper and drop cloths.  

Step two: Spill the first gallon of paint off the high ladder and get this out of the way.  (The man should tell his wife, "See, I did this early in the procedure so you can stop bitching.  And can you hand me another gallon?")

Step three: Using a roller saturated with two pounds of "Methane Blue" or "Eggshell White", jump off the top rung of the step ladder, yell "Heeeyaaaa!", and lacquer an entire wall from ceiling to floor in one fell swoop, thus saving enormous amounts of time by having to apply a second coat.

Steps four-through-seven:  repeat this procedure for all four walls.

Now, on to electrical . . .     

As simple as this sounds, many men forget to turn off the electricity before they begin an electrical repair project. But these two things are related, and that is why many men are electrocuted when they attempt to repair a George Foreman grill.  (These grills, however, cannot be repaired . . . just remove the hamburgers.)

Electricity, it should be pointed out, can be dangerous, and ranks right up there among the reasons for domestic death right alongside 1. falling asleep in the shower and drowning 2. eating cat food by mistake 3. getting stuck in the chimney and becoming a smoked ham 4. and being asphyxiated by pulling open the teenage son's sock drawer. 

However, if a man is going to undertake an electrical home repair he should first get a permit from the city.  This will take months, during which time the wife will forget about the light fixture all together and will get used to cooking over a kerosene stove by candle light.  This is not really all that dangerous (not as dangerous as the man fixing the electrical) and will actually serve to bond husband and wife together, making them feel that they are defeating the forces of nature and getting back to their roots on Little House on the Prairie.  The man, however, should take note that low light can lead to romance, which can lead to hanky-panky, which can lead to children.

Better fix the light.

Discounted

As a male ages, he begins to note the discounts that are often available to "senior citizens".  He is not sure that he wants to take advantage of these . . . as he will have to reveal his true age, and say to the cute blonde behind the counter at Hertz car rental:  "Can't you see that I am past my prime and have earned a discount, if not your undying respect and admiration?" 

Older men who don't care, however, can often produce their AARP card or Driver's License with the aplomb and panache of a quick-draw artist pulling a Colt-45 from a holster.  "How about them apples?" he might say as he slaps the card on the counter at Lowe's and demands an additional 5% off.  Or he might tell the pimply-faced punk at Applebees:  "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up!  I've got a senior citizens discount coupon in my pocket, but don't make me use it, punk.  Just bring me a steak, take 20% off the total, and there will be no trouble!"

To the older man, a discount is like having an Ace up the sleeve.  He's playing poker with society but he knows most people aren't going to call his bluff.  But if they do, good Lord he's going to show his cards and take the pot.  He would prefer, however, if the managers and retail outlets would just fold and say, "Yeah, we can tell you are fifty-five and we don't need to see your ID.  Just take the package of pull-up, extra absorbent underpants and be on your way.  We know these aren't for you and we're not going to ask questions."

The older man can, of course, be embarrassed by his age.  And there are times when he's not going to call attention to a discount.  If a single oldster is standing in a long line at Steinmart, for example, he's not going to call attention to his age if a woman has just asked for his phone number.  He's going to say something like, "Yeah, Friday night is open on my calendar and I drive a Lexus with a fold down back seat."  Under no circumstances will he tell the truth and say, "I'm sorry, but Friday doesn't work for me.  That's when I do my laundry at the retirement village--you can't believe how difficult it is to reserve a washing machine for a soft-spin cycle!--and my shuffleboard team needs me.  But perhaps we could get together on Saturday to discuss Super Poly-Grip.  And I can get you a discount at CVS in case you need a refill of your hormone-replacement pills."

Most older men chose their spots when requesting a discount, but you can bet they will always want one at the hardware store.  When a man can save ten cents on a handfull of wing-nuts and a couple of 2 3/8 inch bolts, he's going to take it.  And if he can get a couple of car keys cut (he's lost his other ones and can't find them anywhere) he's going to toss those into the mix also and maybe replace the cracked toilet seat, too.

Discounts do vary, of course.  And they should.  A fifty-five year old male should never get the same percentage of discount as, say, a man who is a hundred and seven and walks on a peg leg while wearing an eye patch.  Retired pirates deserve more respect and there should be more barbers willing to trim their beards or tweeze the birdnests from their ears.  Retired pirates should never have to show ID, not even for beer or muskatoon purchases.  They've earned their rewards, and when they die, we can bury them at sea for little to no cost.

Naturally, older men would rather be younger men.  But as they age, they do feel that the discounts they enjoy somewhat make up for the fact that they frequently soil themselves if they laugh too hard.  But if they are married, their wives more than make up the difference.