Archive for March, 2010

Viagra

Thursday, March 25th, 2010

I think it’s about time I had a frank discussion about the thing plaguing inboxes everywhere: Viagra. Now, quick confession here, I personally have never had erectile dysfunction. It could be because I’m just that fucking awesome super bad, or it could be because I’m a woman. The jury is still out. I do know that if I placed about 90% of my self-worth on a single body part, I’d want that body part to work and work WELL. So, I am not without sympathy in this department. However, I have little to no sympathy for the annoying fuckers that peddle Viagra and its “all natural” herbal replacements.

I receive at least one email per day shilling Viagra. That little blue pill is ubiquitous: I can’t go five minutes without seeing a commercial, receiving an email or hearing a joke about it. Since it has become a staple of the American diet, I think we all need to take a closer look at this wonder drug that works wonders (NO. That is NOT aspirin. Get with the program.) Here’s a little something for you history buffs. The rest of you can skip ahead to the part about how it can cure the common cold.

Viagra’s compound name is sildenafil (compound UK-92,480 if you’re looking it up in the Merk). UK chemists originally wanted to make the latest and greatest high blood pressure/angina medication. They noticed that when patients took the drug, their blood pressure didn’t come down, but their penises went straight up. Pfizer filed for a patent in 1996 and the FDA approved the drug for treatment of erectile dysfunction on March 27, 1998. They put the little blue pill in a bunch of overplayed, annoying advertisements and by 1999, Pfizer’s sales of the drug was $1 billion, give or take. (Man, I loves me some Wikipedia.)

Clever marketing + exclusive patent = over a million boners served and a pharmaceutical company raking in assloads of cash. It also creates a whole shitload of imitators, spammers and outright frauds. I can see why. Viagra is truly a miracle drug. It can give a 90 year old man that probably shouldn’t even be looking a porno because it could cause a major coronary a stiffy big enough to satisfy even the most desperate $25 hooker. It can make an erection, save a troubled relationship, provide hours of recreation for the nice, young gay couple living down the street and even cure the common cold. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. Viagra can cure the common cold. Let me explain.

I used to be a medical assistant for a family practice here in Northern California. I would see a patient, generally a middle-aged man about 47-50 give or take. I would go into the room and begin to ask him all about medical history, current symptoms, problems, etc. The man would typically tell me, “Well, there’s not a real big problem, I just have a bit of a cold.” He may also have “a bit of a sore throat,” “a mild case of the flu,” “a little bit of a bug,” “just feeling a little under the weather,” or maybe he “just thought he’d come in and get checked up, because, well, it never hurts.” I would take his temperature. It was 98.6° F (37° C). I would check his pulse. It was fine. I would check his blood pressure. Sometimes it was normal, it was usually a little high. I would go through all the first assessment procedures, find nothing and remark to myself that a doctor really can’t do anything for the flu or a cold, and unless the man is spewing green and yellow pus like the girl from The Exorcist, there’s nothing that can be done for a sore throat. I’d leave the room and go out to the front desk.

The doctor saw each of these patients behind a closed door. This is the law; we can’t invade their private space. Ten minutes after seeing the patient, the doctor would step outside the examination room, close the door and say to me, “We have another. Can you go to the sample closet and get another Viagra kit?” I can only conclude from the dozens of times I did this that Viagra can cure the common cold, quite possibly the flu. That and men don’t like to talk about their limp dicks in front of a 26 year old, no matter how nerdy she actually looks. (I’m a scientist and a blogger, not a model. Sue me.)

Speaking of limp dicks, how many of you have seen this limp dick bastard?

This is “Bob.” Bob has plagued my television set for about six years now. Bob has a happy wife at home and a spectacular business relationship with North Korea thanks to “all natural” Viagra substitute, Enzyte. I don’t know what the hell Enzyte is, and I don’t care. All I know is that it claims to do the same thing as Viagra without all that pesky scientific development, FDA approval and prescription business. I also know that Bob is annoying and his wife has a shitty hair-do. However, since taking Enzyte, his dick is now at least 18 inches long and can pound through a brick wall. He’s now known as “Super Cock.” Seriously, I don’t know whether to envy him or just throw his ass off that building. Of course, if he lands on his super hard dick, he might drill clean through the asphalt and I might just have to fight him for the oil rights.

Bob isn’t the only one beguiled by “natural” Viagra. There’s Turkish Viagra:

There’s Italian Viagra:

I’m no expert, but it may be best to NOT accept imitations. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe the men who bought those things are now drilling for oil themselves. Then again, maybe they just have a nice party mix or the beginnings of puttanesca.

Viagra is a great party drug, too. I live in the San Francisco Bay area, and I can tell you that this drug is a God send to young homosexuals looking to party all night long. (You know which “party” I’m talking about, and there ain’t no balloons and cake.) I watched an interview with a Southern pharmacist that won’t sell birth control pills because they’re dangerous and promote promiscuity, but will sell Viagra because it promotes loving, healthy relationships. Oh, my sweet, naive man. Whose loving relationship is that? And who, pray tell, will raise all the children created by a man who, by all statistics, will drop dead before the kid gets out of high school? Viagra is the biggest recreational drug abused by the homosexual community. I think I’m going to smirk while the pieces crash gently to earth in your fundamentalist universe.

Okay, the tinkling sound has stopped. I take only one issue with the existence of Viagra, and it is this:

Yeah, if you take Viagra (at the age of 24 apparently, when by all rights you should have no need of it barring some catastrophic physical condition) you will score a supermodel with huge tits and be able to bang her for 48 hours straight without pause or re-hydration. This is what the distributors of low-cost/generic/imitation/fraudulent Viagra are selling. This is the essence of about 25% of all spam emails received by the general public. Buy their generic or “all natural” Viagra and you will get a model with big tits. There’s a 100% money back guarantee on this. I get these emails constantly, and it never ceases to amaze me that: 1. I still really can’t use Viagra. 2. I too could score a supermodel with ginormous tits.

Viagra is cheap in Mexico:

(Oh, shit. Hussein was hanged? Where am I when all the good stuff happens?)

I need to drive directly south and get me some. After all, if I scored a supermodel with ginormous tits, I’d sell her to the first man who asked. It’s not that I don’t believe in feminism, it’s just that I know a diamond opportunity when I see it. It’s just too damn good to pass up. To hell with Bob and Enzyte, just pass the supermodel. I can feel my “prospects” soaring…

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Posted in The Wonderful World of Medicine | 2 Comments »

Doing Time At The DMV

Friday, March 19th, 2010

I decided to shed any last vestige of sanity I had and go to the DMV in person to get some paperwork processed. Because no trip to the DMV is a quick errand, I decided to pack my usual survival kit: books to read, iPod, a small needlework project, a notebook to write in, a bottle of water, a Peet’s coffee and a granola bar.  NO, I can not survive any time in line without these things. I freely admit that I am short-attention spanned, high-maintenance and prop heavy. And now, I’m in the queue from hell.

The DMV opens at 9:00 a.m. People are already wrapped around the building by 8:00 a.m., and most of them are acting like morons. Now, I have to take a brief detour, which is an entirely appropriate metaphor considering the location. Has anyone else noticed how everyone is in his or her own private world these days? Everyone seems to think that his/her life sooooooooooo damn important that s/he constantly has to be on the phone, fiddling with a Blackberry/PDA/iPhone, using their computer or at the very least talking to no one in particular very loudly about HOW DAMN IMPORTANT I AM AND THAT THE ONLY REASON NOBODY IS CALLING IS BECAUSE THEY KNOW HOW DAMN BUSY AND IMPORTANT I ACTUALLY AM. People forget the reason that mankind invented the headphone is so I don’t have to listen to your crappy music. The reason mankind invented the PC is so I don’t have to be subjected to your online movie. The reason mankind invented the ball gag is so I don’t have to listen to your bullshit conversation or sad-assed attempt at rapping like JayZ.

So here I am, in the midst of all this: people watching porn, having a lover’s spat or on the phone trying to score a dime bag like they’re in the comfort and safety of their own homes. The problem is they are not in their own homes. It’s a simple equation: 1 average idiot + 1 electronic device = people who completely forget they are in public, and that maybe, just maybe, the rest of us don’t want to deal with them. Oh, and there’s smokers in line too, generally next to the sign that says “California State Law: No Smoking Within 20 Feet of a Public Building.” I have bad allergies, and I can’t tolerate cigarette smoke these days. Not only that, but I figure if you’re going to break the law and blow smoke in my face, you at least owe me the courtesy of smoking pot instead.

No trip is wasted. I learned some important things, which I will now inflict upon you.

  1. Janicey is having man problems. He wouldn’t hardly talk to her at the club last night, and if he was all gonna be like that; he could just stay off her damn phone. Which I think is weird, because I saw her dial the damn phone. Anyway, he really shouldn’t keep talking shit to her and telling her that nothing is wrong because something is wrong and he can just either tell her just hang up that damn phone. Damn straight, Janicey.
  2. The couple in front of me is a newly minted item. (I doubt they’re newly weds, seriously, most of the newly weds I meet these days have lived together at least a couple years and have the juvenile PDA thing worked out of their system.) She has low self esteem/low self-worth, and so it doesn’t matter that she picked up the last loser passed out on the floor of the men’s room in a dive bar. It is important she “keep the relationship hot” by allowing him to put his hands down her pants and grope her bare ass in public. Sexy, sexy. I think I’m going home to vomit. Or take a shower. Or possibly both.
  3. Headphones don’t work as a personal listening device when the music is turned up so loud it can be heard three people back in line. Thank God it’s mariachi this time and not something totally mindless like Lil’ Wayne, or God forbid Phil Collins, Michael Bolton, Bobby Vinton or something else beyond the limits of good taste.
  4. How a cell phone works is this: You pick up the phone, you dial a number, the phone connects you via satellite, radio or microwaves and the person on the other end answers. You both can talk, preferably at a normal volume. How the cell phone does not work is: You pick up the phone, dial the number and then proceed to talk/scream so loud that the person could hear you without the phone anyway.
  5. Tom has back problems, and he’s been off on disability for weeks now. These damn DMV people don’t understand that he just doesn’t have all day to stand in this line, even though like many of us these days, Tom is out of work at the moment. He just doesn’t have the damn time, and he shouldn’t have to wait like this. Those damn security guards have no damn right to tell him where he can and can’t have a smoke. Tom is special. Tom is probably fresh out of OC, and should be let in the front of the line to avoid further incident.
  6. If your pants are belted and situated below your ass cheeks, your pants are not actually on. Since when has it been appropriate to walk around with your ass hanging out of your pants? Isn’t that indecent exposure or something? I tapped the young man on the shoulder and said in the most gentle, Christ-like way possible, “Pssst, I think you have a couple of skid marks back there.” He didn’t, but the look on his face sure was amusing. I didn’t make any friends that day.

Okay, back to the DMV. How the line works at a California DMV is this: you go to the main routing desk and get a code from somebody who is NOT THERE TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. This person even has a sign: “Do NOT ask operator questions. They can NOT answer questions.” I’m not sure if that’s a sanity saver for the operator, if it’s an insult to the operator, or if the operator is just that incompetent. You sit in the waiting area waiting for your code to show up. The code is a random combination of numbers and letters. The announcer just calls a code at random. There is no preference given to alphabetical or numerical order. It’s just like the lottery, only a lot more annoying and you eventually end up having to give the money back to the state. You can’t read, you can’t listen to an iPod, you can’t take out your needlework and you can’t leave for any reason. Your number may come up any time, and they are not responsible for finding you. You are now a prisoner of the DMV, trapped in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a room that smells like a combination of wet vinyl floor, car exhaust, cheap perfume and ass. Isn’t this addressed by the Geneva Convention? Shouldn’t somebody at least look into it for me?

They paroled me two hours later and even gave me a new parking placard as a souvenir. All in all, the day went well, except for the possible lung cancer and a rare skin disease I picked up from the plastic chair. It only took me two hours to de-louse and wash the stench of humanity off afterward. I managed to take care of some paperwork that should have been processed six weeks ago but for the fact that somebody in Sacramento didn’t think it was necessary to actually look for my notarized signature on the form. Good to know the state is still hiring the best and brightest from the vast labor pool that is our state. The quote of the day came from the nice lady I talked to at the courtesy desk at the DMV, “I have never seen anything like this before in my life. Now why in the hell did they do that?”

I couldn’t agree with her more myself.

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Posted in The Daily Grind | 2 Comments »

Leaving California

Friday, March 19th, 2010

Contrary to the title, I am not leaving California. However, in the past year I know at least four people very close to me who have left or are leaving California forever. It’s no surprise, but it’s very disheartening. Let me explain.

California has one of the highest costs of living in the entire United States. Currently we have 12% unemployment +/-. That is not a realistic picture of life here, though. I talked to an EDD (CA unemployment agency) member recently and he told me some dirty little secrets. These include the fact that EDD does not count anyone whose benefits have been cut off, people out of work for a year or longer (me included) or people who have been out of work so long that they have just given up. It also doesn’t take migrant workers, seasonal workers or day laborers into account. If those people caught the eye of EDD, the unemployment level would easily reach about 30% of the population of California. Look at that for one minute. Realistically, nearly one-third of the entire state is out of work. That is no small amount.

Back to leaving California. The last Census produced results that at least 1 in 8 Americans live in California. This number isn’t stable, however, as the population seems to be in a permanent state of transition. No matter; these people can come and go as they please; these are just the “legal” residents of this state. I don’t blame them for leaving, there’s not a whole lot of work here these days. Now I get to the leaving part.

I’ve had friends I’ve known since the 90’s. This is not a joke or exaggeration. We all grew up here as make-shift transplants and grew to become productive adults. Well, some of us did. Some of us, despite education or qualification, never caught the wave of the dot com boom. Some of us never got a footing in this economy. Some caught the dot com boom only to wipe out in the bust. All of us got sick having to look for the next contract as a part-time job. All of us wanted to be one of the chosen few who got rich. The majority of us got screwed as companies folded, jobs dried up, “investment properties” got foreclosed and life just got more expensive while work provided little to no benefits and no real livable income.

So, my friends left California. Rats always leave a ship before it sinks. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that we’re all struggling to stay afloat now. Well, everyone except Bank of America. We can’t continue to fight each other to the death over the few jobs that remain, and we don’t want to fight to survive on an income that, quite frankly, doesn’t pay the bills. Maybe California has become the land of the rich and famous. The rest of us suffer in silence or move on. I have never had a job that pays a living wage, provides benefits or offered any sort of health care. I won’t be young or even middle age long enough to make up the difference. All I can say is that I’m almost 40. I’m not getting any younger, smarter or more marketable. I can face a future of being homeless and eating cat food, or I can get out of Dodge.

As e.e. cummings once said, “Listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go.”

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Posted in The Daily Grind | 1 Comment »