Becoming A PMSer, Mangos And Myopia
Del.icio.usMedical bulletin: Recently experienced my first bout of PMS, and it was not pretty.
(Note: I have some experience with PMS from the traditional guy side of the gender equation, the PMSee, but this was from the other side, the PMSer.)
Not that I’m a modern hormonal marvel. And that whole metrosexual thing is beyond me. But when I torqued my back while doing some lifting, the doc prescribed a muscle relaxer, which shall remain anonymous on account of one of my basic journalism rules: Avoid getting sued by pharmaceutical giants. The tablets - even cutting them up and taking just a quarter tablet a day - made me anxious, edgy, angry, aggressive, depressive, and it was difficult to control my emotions and actions. After describing these symptoms to managing editor Terri Hefner, she quipped: “Sounds to me like you have PMS!” ...
Whoa, so this is what it’s like? Whichever Intelligent Designer is responsible for this malady has a really sick sense of humor ...
The label, BTW, said to take up to a full pill every eight hours. Can’t imagine the mental state that would have put me in. Cujo Syndrome, maybe? Have stayed away from that brain poison since ...
That brief fling with pharmacologically induced PMS is further evidence in behalf of my theory that our personalities are 75 percent brain chemistry ...
Don’t count your mangoes until they’re pickled dept.: Last week’s reference to mango blossoms on trees all over town and a prediction of a bumper crop this spring and summer took a nasty beating on the Windward side during huge rainstorms two days apart. Bye-bye blossoms…
Speaking of the storms: To the neighbor up the hill who lost much of the gravel in a parking area in front of his house, and found it scattered down a couple blocks of road by torrential rain runoff: Mahalo, brother, for coming out the next day and sweeping it all up ...
This may not be the stupidest move ever in sports, but it is the stupidest on the women’s side since Rosie Ruiz tried to get away with the Cliff Notes version of the Boston Marathon: The Ladies Professional Golf Association’s new policy of giving media credentials only to news organizations that sign an agreement allowing the LPGA to use all published photos and stories in any way, and forever, while not permitting those organizations to reprint their own photos ...
Let’s be frank: Even with all the young stars coming up, the LPGA is not exactly the NFL or NASCAR. Discouraging coverage is about as counterproductive as it gets. Kudos to the Star-Bulletin and Associated Press for declining to sign ...
The fatal flaw in the LPGA policy: It runs counter to all laws of copyright ...
And if AP stayed away, newspapers and TV/radio stations across the country would not be receiving any news from the tournament except scores. I’m guessing Hidatoshi Yamamoto, the Japanese businessman who recently bought a Kahala home and sponsored the Fields Open at Ko Olina - with the reasonable expectation of having “Fields” mentioned in every newspaper in the country - had a hand in overturning the myopic LPGA policy last Friday ...
Pidgin and the winter Olympics: I love pidgin because it expresses things so succinctly. Such as the failure of U.S. skiers and skaters to win more medals: “‘At’s why hard.” ...
The Olympics are a reminder that the U.S. of A. is not the only country in the world with a cool national anthem. How can you not like O Canada or the nearly operatic Brothers of Italy? ...
There’s only one anthem, though, that makes my eyes do an impersonation of a supermarket produce section misting machine just about every time I hear it ...
Sorry to hear of the passing of legendary big band leader Del Courtney, whom I had the honor of calling a friend. Supremely talented and creative, Del was also one of the sweetest, most considerate guys I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. (Which raises the question: How did Al Davis ever hire him to start the Oakland Raiders band?!) Guaranteed heaven’s band is really swingin’ now. A one and a two and ...
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