Doctor. Doctor. Give me the news. 

Ever since the health screening lady at work a few weeks ago told me I was in the high risk zone of cholesterol, I've been kind of freaking out. Not drastically changing anything, mind you, but freaking out nonetheless. 

I cut back on soda, switched to reduced fat milk and ate more almonds. And, oh yeah, made my first doctor's appointment since a physical to play soccer senior year of high school. That was 2001. 

I arrived on time (no small feat for me) but, of course, I was not summoned to the doctor on time. In the waiting room, I got to listen to an old couple and another lady discuss the finer things in life: Asian art and Netflix. 

The two ladies were actually doing most of the talking until the old man said he prefers to watch golf or baseball. His wife: I like watching to cheer against that Tiger Woods. He left his family. He's such a bastard. Asked about the difference between Woods and Bill Clinton, she said: I can forgive him. He's a sweetheart. 

Another man was signing in.

Nurse: would you like to list a religious preference?

Man: Jesus. 

Thirty minutes after my appointment, I was called in for the nurse to do some tests. Blood pressure was good, but the nurse didn't tell me that. I just knew the numbers. 

The doctor came in next. He asked me if I had any pains. No. Any discomfort. No. Any medical problems to address. No. Any past problems. No. Any medications. No. Anything at all. No. Then he shot me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here look. 

Me: cholesterol. The health screening lady ... 

Doc (waving his hand): Those things are such bullshit. 

After he was done with me, I peed in a cup and then had to go pick up a red phone in the hallway. No dialing. Just picked up a red phone. I half expected Neo to answer. 

Another nurse came out to take my blood. As she was rubbing my vein, I said: That's where the heroin usually goes. She hesitantly laughed. Hope that doesn't go in my file. 

On my way out of the facility, I went the wrong way twice. First, I took the wrong elevator to get to my car. I looked out the window and could see my car. However, my only option was to enter an office. So back down the elevator I went. I then found the right elevator. 

On the way out of the parking garage, I followed the exit signs, but on the first floor I ended up driving down a dead end of sorts. Almost hit a dumpster. I was barely able to turn around to go back up a ramp. I mean just barely. Almost was forced to go back up the down ramp in reverse. 

So I had to re-enter the garage to the third floor before exiting again. When I got back to the first floor exit, there is actually two arrows, one for the real exit and one pointed toward the non-exit I originally followed. So you can see my confusion. Or I'm just a moron. 

The Tina cursing corner

My mom looks at her grass. "Look how high it is. It's been one fucking week."

The neighbors were making all kinds of racket, as usual. Mom does not like this. She hears hammer meeting nail. "Maybe he's sound proofing the motherfucker."

Mom is worried about legal action being taken against her for an incident the other day. "Fucking old man. He's going to haunt me the rest of my fucking life."

You didn't know that

I'm often being told that at work. It's always a good time when someone never heard of something you thought everyone knew. It happens both ways to me. 

Two from the other day. Paul didn't know the theme to SportsCenter. You know, da da da danna da da. Been there for all our lives. He heard it the other day and thought it was just the noise made when you draft a fantasy player. This is the same guy who once asked me what a Jonas brother was. 

For her part, Kelly doesn't believe that carrot is in carrot cake. I've heard some bad ones before, but that just might take the cake. Thank you and drive thru. Kelly: You motherfuckers are just messing with me. 

The Tina cursing corner

My Mom is cleaning the house and listening to her iPod. "Well I just heard the news today. It seems my life is going to change. ... Then tears of joy stream down my face, Jesus fucking Christ." She must have seen something she didn't like because the next line is "with arms wide open."

Mom recalled her bachelorette party in 1989. "Bought champagne all fucking night. Bottle after bottle."

Mom was upset I didn't greet her properly upon her arrival. "No hi. No fuck you. Nothing."

Mom didnt like the hung jury on jodie's sentencing. "It's bullshit. Only in fucking Arizona. They got the fucking strangest rules. They got to get a whole fucking new jury for sentencing. It's so bullshit. Only in Arizona. Don't do anything wrong in fucking Arizona. Jesus Christ."

Mom had an opinion on a certain aspect of the case. "Let's be honest. The only one who enjoys anal is the man.
Me: some women do.
Mom: the fuck they do. Can't get a fucking orgasm."

As for the defendant. "I hate that bitch. She just loves the fucking attention. She has twitter. Says buy my fucking t-shirt. She loves looking at the picture of the bloody corpse. She's worse than Casey."

I have a stuffed North Carolina Tar Heel doll.
Mom: what's his name?
Me: Tyler.
Mom: you treat Tyler like shit. Got him laying on his fucking back looking at the ceiling.

THE REST OF THE WEEK WAS JUST ME WATCHING TV

For the past six years, Paul and I have gone to WrestleMania. We've been to Detroit, Orlando, Houston, Phoenix (my favorite), Atlanta and Miami. This year, the big show was in New York. Seeing as how I've never been, I was pretty excited. Alas, Paul couldn't afford to go. Bitch.

I take the week of WrestleMania off every year, so last week, I had a staycation. Here's what happened:

Sunday: It was Easter. It was the Walking Dead finale. It was a good day.

I went all the way to Bert and Kelly's to watch the finale. I brought a bag of popcorn, but Kelly was upset I didn't bring more. I offered half my bag, but she refused and popped her own bag. She ate maybe a fourth of hers and threw the rest away. Starving children in Africa, people.

Monday: I watched the Cubs win their opener. All downhill from there, no doubt.

For dinner, I went to Cafe East with Paul and Leigh. It was my first time. It was solid. Then, we all went to Bert and Kelly's to watch The Following.

One of those AT&T commercials came on. Me: I hate these.
Paul: Some of them are funny.
Me: You know that guy is raping those kids off camera?

For reals, it's a creepy man in a suit sitting Indian style on the floor of a classroom with four kids at a time. There's no teacher in sight. I repeat, there's no teacher in sight. What in the Monkey Hill is going on here?

Tuesday: Watched Lincoln. Was not impressed. I did spend a solid hour on wikipedia reading about the War Between the States after it, though.

Our rec basketball team entered the day at 5-1, and we knew going into Tuesday's matchup that our opponent was slightly weak. With tons of free time on my hands, I arrived an hour and 15 minutes early to get some shooting in. And boy did it pay off as I hit 3 of 4 3-pointers.

After the first quarter, our team had 30 points. To put that in perspective, we generally score in the 30s or 40s for the entire game. In the huddle, someone suggested we go for 100 points. Seemed outlandish.

At halftime, we had 58. After three quarters, 77. Then we really got hot. We hit 5 3-pointers in a row, and suddenly we had 96 with three minutes left. That's when one official announced, "Ya'll ain't getting 100." He called three phony calls in a row on us, but there was little he could do when we got two breakaway layups in a row to hit 100 with a minute to spare.

Black Matt, who must have had 7 3-pointers on the night, tried to dribble out the clock, but the other team told him to keep playing. He whipped a crosscourt pass over to me, and I drilled my last 3 for a 103-48 victory. WE SCORED 103 POINTS!!!

David, who missed the game with a foot injury, didn't believe my initial text. For anyone who has played in this structure, it is hard to believe. It's a 32-minute game (the NBA is 48) with the clock running except in the final minute and foul shots.

What we did was something special. In four seasons, the most I've seen any team score is 70-something. For my part, I had a rec-career high 21 points, 6 rebounds, 4 assists and 3 steals.

My athletic night was not done, however. I drove to City Park from Miley to play with my old softball team. That league used to be on Mondays but moved to the same night as basketball this season. The schedule Tuesday allowed me to do both.

I drove in two runs and had a triple that I smacked down the left-field line. I also ran down some fly balls in left field in a 12-5 victory. Then it was time to celebrate with two beers at the Mid City Yacht Club. Even ran into my old friend Alex. Quite the day.

Wednesday: Paul, Bert, Black Matt and I played trivia at the Mellow Mushroom. We came in fifth out of 10 teams. But fuck, we only had four people. One question turned into a funny story.

The guy running the trivia asked: Name a group of animated crime fighting girls that starts with a ... We couldn't tell if he said P or B. Paul said the answer is Powerpuff girls. Nerd alert! The trivia guy repeated the question, and this time, he definitely said it started with a B.

No one knew a group starting with a B, but Paul insisted the answer was Powerpuff girls. Then, the guy was walking around the restaurant to deter cheaters, and Black Matt stopped him.

Black Matt: That first question, did you say P or B?
Trivia guy: B. As in Boy. Banana. Binoculars. (Then he paused, waved his hand around and pointed at us). Broccoli. (Then he walked off before we could respond as if he had just done the mic drop thing or something.)

After the round of 10 questions, he collected all the teams' answers. We scratched out Powerpuff girls and guessed something random with a B. Then he graded the sheets and read the answers.

The answer to that question was, of course, Powerpuff girls. With a P. He gave us credit for a correct answer, so we never said anything more. But what the hell, bro?

So now I'm calling the trivia guy Binocular Broccoli. Like that is his first and last name.

Thursday: Ah, Thursday. Thursday was poker day on the staycation. I played for 7 1/2 hours. Ate dinner at the hot dog stand adjacent to the poker room. For free. Oh and I got into a beef with a very muscular man who was either on drugs or just a complete asshole. He sat on the opposite side of the table.

He beat me with two pair that he got on the river to top my one pair.

Asshole: I thought you had a flush.
Me: No. Nice river.
Asshole: What? You want to do something about it? I'll arm wrestle you right now.
Me: No thanks.
Asshole. No. C'mon. Fifty bucks. We'll arm wrestle. (pauses). Fine. $100.
Me: Why not $200?
Asshole: Yeah. I'll arm wrestle you for $200. Let's go.
Me: I don't think that's fair.
Asshole: You afraid?
Me: Fine. A million dollars.
Asshole: A million? You got that? I'll break your fucking arm.

That's when I realized he wasn't clowning around as I was. He was dead serious the whole time. I didn't say another word or even look up. He just kept going.

About 15 minutes later, he folded his hand. By throwing it at me. The cards landed at the end of the table right in front of me. The dealer, a woman, called for her manager. (by calling out, "Floor!")

The floor told Asshole to calm down, and Asshole sort of apologized. But when the floor stepped away, Asshole told the dealer: "You know, you ain't so pretty to look at."

Dealer: "Floor." The floor kicked him off the table despite Asshole's pleas. As he was packing up his stuff to leave, he told the dealer: "C'mon baby. Baby." Then he gave her a lingering stare. The floor told the table later that Asshole was barred from the casino for 30 days.

Good. I thought it was a possibility that Asshole was going to follow me to my car or something and just beat the fuck out of me. He was for serious, ya'll.

Maybe I could have accepted his arm wrestling challenge and gone over the top, Sly Stallone style.

Friday: David, Sarah, Bert, Kelly, Joe and I ate at Theo's and then went to the Daiquiri shop. David had a co-worker called Opie meet us there. This guy gave freaked me out. He insisted that he knew me, which he did not.

Every 15 minutes, he came over, got in my face and started naming people he knew. He went 0 for the night. He thought I was fucking with him by not telling him how we knew each other. Nope.

It was also karaoke night. Though it wasn't our turn, Bert and I serenaded Kelly with a beautiful rendition of Faithfully. She didn't like, though.

Saturday: It was the Final Four. Two close games, so I was pleased. Louisville-Wichita State was ruined at the end by a bogus jump ball call, and Michigan-Syracuse was ruined by a charge call that was really a block. Both games could have turned out differently.

Sunday: It was WrestleMania. Instead of watching live at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, I was at the Fox & Hound. The entire restaurant was filled with wrestling fans. So that was something.

There were three main events. The first two were really good, especially the Undertaker vs. CM Punk which had me excitedly running around our table like a damned fool. Then, the Rock and Cena was a flop, decided the entire Internet. Probably because I wasn't there live making enough noise. Thanks a lot, Paul. You ruined WrestleMania.

Monday: The final day. I watched the Cubs game and wrote this entry all the while dreading a return to the office. No worries, though. I'm off again next week for Joe and Jenna's wedding.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom saw the story on the Rutgers coach abusing his players. "Fucking wild. Thought he would never get fucking caught. Someone finally taped the motherfucker. Good. Fucking Internet getting everyone in trouble. Everyone got their fucking phone out."

Mom had found a web site that let her watch some movies for free. "But now I can't remember the fucking site." She was then upset that something wasn't OnDemand yet. "For the money we paying, they ought to fucking put it OnDemand right after it airs."

I had this fortune at Oriental the other day: Life is a play. It's not its length, but its performance that counts. I read that to mom. "Life or a dick?"

And the time before we went to Chinese, she got this fortune: If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it. She read it aloud and then says to the piece of paper: "Fuck you."

HEY LOOK, MOM. I'M ON TV. (WILLY WONKA REFERENCE.)

I was on the national news and the local news recently. OK, it wasn't recently. But I'm lazy and didn't post it yet.

CBS came and filmed in the newsroom during the switch in September, I think. It aired four or so months later. I'm wearing a teal dress shirt. I'm in at the 5:06 mark and 5:16. And 11:00.

You can view it here.

The local ABC news filmed a segment on a Saints fan at the Fox and Hound. I'm in the background the whole time ignoring it all. This was not last season but the season before. Thanks to Joe for finding the video on the youtube.

You can enjoy that one here.

AND BREESUS WAVED.

I got a call from my new Hornets ticket rep inviting me "and my shareholders" to have lunch at the Saints facility. I'd hardly call Joe, Paul and Bob "shareholders," but what the hell, they came along.

My worse case scenario for this thing: muffulettas as the only food option and a hardcore sales pitch to keep my tickets for next year by Kevin (I think that's his name). My best case scenario: Multiple food options to choose from, a relaxed environment where we all shoot the shit and talk about the bright future of the ballclub.

What I got was a little of the best case and then some. The conversation was an hour and a half of sports, ranging from Hornets, college football, college hoops, NFL, the Saints, etc. The lunch was in the Saints facility cafeteria with all kind of food options. I had the hamburger, and it was damn good.

Oh, and in the middle of lunch, Drew Brees casually strolled in for a bite.
Me (instinctively): Dreeewwww!
Drew (waving): Hey.

We didn't bother him thereafter, though Paul took multiple photos of him eating chicken and texting.

(He sent me the picture, but this goddamn thing wouldn't upload it. Ugh.)

After lunch, we were left to wonder if we should have invited Drew over to the table. I could have wished him a happy belated birthday or asked him why he didn't see the LB on the second pick-six against the 49ers.

But then Bob uttered something that made me fall on the floor of the facility's memorabilia room (though really it's more of an ode to Benson).
Bob (to me): You should have brought your football.

Well shit. But how I was supposed to know that Drew would sit at the table next to me for my lunch with my Hornets ticket rep. Damn it all. I guess that ball will never get signed. At least I have it, right?

I wonder what Drew would have said if I had asked for him to hold on while I run home real quick and get the football. I swear, Drew, I'll be back in 20 minutes. Could have worked.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is intrigued by the latest court trial. "This girl Jody. She killed her boyfriend. And then went and fucking had dinner with his friend. They found a camera, and it has these photos of her dragging his body around. Skinny little bitch, too.

Mom's foot was acting up. "I did something to my fucking foot. It's getting better, but ... I don't know what the fuck is going on with that."

I forget what she was referring to in this one. "I went to get the fucking mail, and the shit was all over the lawn again."

Mom tells me she's about to come over. "I bet you didn't put all your shit away."

Mom was, as usual, displeased with Wal-Mart. "Fucking Wal-Mart didn't have eight things I use."

Mom can't believe the details poured over in TV comments on the Internets. "People come up with so much shit. They look at every fucking little fucking detail."

Lastly, my mom is looking for a job. So if you know of an opening, holla.

CHEATING IN THE DIGITAL AGE

Rachel and I went to the Hornets-Rockets game last Wednesday. She spent most of the game, and understandably so, reading the text messages of the guy in front of us.

He went back and forth texting WIFE and BANK TELLER. Yes, he put the mistress in his phone as bank teller. He texted things like, "My wife don't know I'm at the game'' and "It's, OK. We can do it in the car." (He was a rather large man.)

I just imagine this poor wife looking at her account online, seeing something amiss and then grabbing the nearest phone, which happens to be his, to call the bank. She clicks on bank teller and the other line answers: "What's up, baby?"

A FANTASTIC FOUR OF RANDOM THOUGHTS

-- I briefly forgot which one is the gas and which one is the brake the other night. Luckily, I was the only one on the road when I hit the "break" at the red light.

-- My neighbor has left his hose on twice in December. I walked outside to my car to see the right side of my lawn flooded and a water path down my driveway to the street. I turned the hose off both times for the neighbor. Should I have left a nasty note? I don't know. I don't know if my first words to my neighbor (yes, I've lived there for more than a year) should be: Uh, can you turn your hose off after you use it?

-- Today, I did maybe the worst thing I've ever done. Actually, too ashamed to write it down. Just awful. If you're reading this person I offended, I am so sorry. It was an accident but still unforgivable. Feel free to hate me. Or just hit me in the face. Burn something I own. ...

-- Fringe goes off the air tonight (though I'm not watching it until Sunday). It comes in as my ninth favorite drama. I will miss it. Especially you, Walter. After all, he named his cow Gene.

HOW TO GET OUT OF A TICKET. HONESTY. 

In the past month, I've been pulled over by the cops twice. Both times, I clearly committed an infraction. Both times, I did it right in front of a cop. And both times, I didn't get a ticket.

The first one was on my way home from Tina's about three weeks ago. The speed limit changes from 40 to 45 about halfway between our houses. In the 40, which is in Harahan, I normally go right at 40. In the 45 in the Ridge, I bump it up to 50.

That night I thought I had hit the Ridge, so I jumped to 50, but I clearly wasn't paying attention as the Ridge was another two blocks away.

The exchange with the cop started auspiciously. He commanded from his car that I exit the vehicle and step to the back of the car.

Cop: You got any guns in the trunk?
Me (taken aback): No.
Cop: You were going 50 in a 40. Can you tell me why?
Me: I thought I was to the 45 zone already.

He then took my license and registration back to his vehicle to check on them. When he returned, I reached out my hand to accept my ticket. But he said: "This registration is an old one, but you check out." Me: Oh, I grabbed the wrong one.

And that was it. The second one was worse.

Coming home from Rachel's on Saturday night, I caught a red light on Carrollton, but I wasn't paying attention and didn't stop until I was directly under the light, meaning I passed through the entire intersection.

The car behind me was a cop car. Cue the lights.

Cop: Have you been drinking tonight sir?
Me: No. (That was true.)
Cop: You have any warrants out on you?
Me: No.
Cop: Why did you run the light?
Me: I thought that was where I needed to stop. Didn't see the intersection.
Cop: Next time, you might as well go all the way through. Have a good night.

What should I do next with this power? Drive through a DUI checkpoint drunk and say I didn't know you guys would be out here tonight? Run into a cop car and say I didn't see it there?

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was displeased with the condition of my front yard. "You need to take care of your yard. It's a fucking disgrace to your neighborhood." (I cut the grass three days later.)

Mom is excited about one of those singing shows. "You see who's fucking hosting X-Factor?"
Me: No.
Mom: Kim Kardashian and what the fuck is his name? (pause, thinking) I just looked this up. My fucking brain is going. (pause) Who the fuck is it?" (It was Mario Lopez.)

Mom says she got a strange call last week. "I say, 'Hello.' She says, 'Oh, sorry. I was looking for my fiancee.' Who the fuck says that? How bout, 'Sorry, wrong number.' No. She says fiancee."

Mom is discouraged about the state of affairs in the country. "What a great fucking economy we have."

Mom recently had the floors redone in her dining room after the room flooded for Isaac. "Now, there's fucking glue everywhere. It's all sticky."

LANGUAGE BARRIER

I had a fortune cookie the other day that said: "It's is very possible that you could achieve greatness." Well, shit. When you put is twice in the sentence then I know you're serious. Of course, it's not like I could write in Chinese.

And since it's very possible that I might achieve greatness, I've never been so inspired. Greatness here I come. Possibly.

PHONE UPDATE

I have yet to drop my new phone. I'm very proud of this stat.

Speaking of new iphones, work offered me a new iphone the other day. Just my luck. I buy a new phone for $328, and three weeks later, I'm offered one for free. They are now checking (I say now, but this was two weeks ago, and I haven't heard back yet) to see if I can just switch my phone over to the company's plan. Both plans are with Verizon.

Otherwise, I'll have to pay the cancellation fee to get out of my contract, then sell the iphone I bought.

Meanwhile, I called T-Mobile on Friday to get an explanation for why my final bill I got was for the full month when I cancelled my service with 10 days left in the month. The man on the other end said (and then repeated himself at least 10 times) that because I kept my phone number, they can't cancel my service until the end of the month.

That sounded like bullshit to me. He did assure me that I didn't owe an early termination fee. You don't say. Considering my contract expired in 2006, you bet your sweet ass I don't owe a cancellation fee.

PARTING SHOT
I went to Bud's after work Sunday night. I read a text on my phone after finishing my order.

Worker: That's got to be your old lady's phone with that purple case, right?
Me: Uh-huh.

WHAT HAPPENS AT MANTOBER, STAYS AT MANTOBER. EXCEPT HERPES. THAT SHIT WILL COME BACK WITH YOU. 

Last October, my friend David got married, which isn't relevant to today, except that we had a most memorable bachelor party that weekend.

There was so much fun had, in fact, that we decided at the conclusion of the weekend that we needed to make it an annual thing. Since no one else happened to be getting married this October, we couldn't call the weekend a bachelor party. And thus MANTOBER was born.

Mantober is an all-weekend debauchery fest in which wives or girlfriends are not allowed. At all. The planning started with a facebook group created in April. I even used my remaining vacation days for the year to take off this past Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

If this in anyway sounds gay to you, then you just don't get Mantober. It's a state of mind and a way of life. For one weekend a year, anyway. Impressively, we had four married guys and five more with live-in girlfriends. And they all consented (begrudgingly or not) to letting this happen.

Unfortunately, my employer decided to dissolve its company and create a whole new enterprise, hell-bent on world domination. Actually, we just changed our business model, but the point is, this past weekend was the first weekend of the new company, so nobody was allowed off.

This was the Mantober schedule.
Meet at David's at 9 p.m. on Friday. Party at his house.
Saturday: Breakfast, football and trade-a-polooza (in which we get drunk and make league-altering fantasy trades), go downtown for the night and see where the night takes you.
Sunday: Football at bar during day. Saints game at night.

This was my work schedule.
Friday: 2 p.m. to 12:15 a.m.
Saturday: 12:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.
Sunday: 2:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m.

Did I let 30 hours of work stop me from participating in Mantober? Heck no. I was drunk by 2:30 Friday night and tipsy by 2 a.m. Saturday night. I went to Golden Corral for breakfast Saturday. Surprisingly, it wasn't bad. And I watched football at the bar Sunday before work.

But I did I miss a shit ton of fun in between. Next year, this will not happen. I will be off the whole weekend. It's also been decided that the whole weekend will be downtown.

Oh, and we're getting T-shirts.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom heard about some website with cheap daily products.
Mom: Gotta be a fucking rip off, right? They got a lot of fucking shit.

Mom still can't stop talking about her favorite show, Sons of Anarchy, killing off a beloved character.
Mom: Fucking shocker. Blew my mind.

I recently started dating a co-worker. She's not a fan of the idea. "You better be careful. That shit can get fucking ugly."

MY HAIRCUT IS POLARIZING

I recently got a new haircut. It has drawn mixed reactions.
Bert: I can't look at you with that haircut.

Marcus: Who gave you that?
Me: Tina.
Marcus: Was she blindfolded? Drunk? On Shrooms?

Paul: You look like a punk.

The last one was the part that made it mixed. That's what I was going for. I think it goes with my beard. Tina also likes it. One day I shaved the chin part of the beard, but Tina did not like that. "It looks like shit."

PARTING SHOT
If you were disappointed with the details about the Mantober festivities, I apologize. But I'm not at liberty to discuss any of that. It's in the Mantober manifesto. Look it up. But I liked this exchange.

Person we encountered: So, is this some sort of bachelor party?
Corey: No. ... It's the anniversary of a bachelor party.