More Adventures on Summer Avenue

So as part of the series of crazy things I see on Summer Avenue, I have yet another entry to make. Picture it. The dicey part of Summer Avenue somewhere between the Paris Adult Theater (no I'm not a regular) and the cat hospital... Temps in 30's, shirtless man on the corner wearing scant more than just boxing gloves, yes, boxing gloves; punching at the wind as if there was an imaginary punching bag there that no one else can see. Mysterious.

Now, I almost had a wreck because said man was all Men's Fitness looking with his six pack and "devil horns" as they were but put a shirt on man, please. You can catch a cold that way. Oh, and maybe try a gym.

2011 - Year of the Oozy Eyes

I've become one of those old ladies in church who have a pocketbook full of tissues and peppermints. What I mean is, the older I seem to get, the sicker I seem to be--all the time--with the crud. I am sick more days than not in a given year with some sort of allergy attack, sinus infection or cold and have been since about 1999. I should buy stock in Puffs with Lotion.

First I went to an allergist. Dr. Well Intentioned But Giant Waste of Time. The shot therapy was seven years of nonsense. Then my primary care physician who on a good day I call Dr. Nick (as in Elvis lore, Dr. Nickopoulous, as in a doctor who will prescribe anything you want God bless him) and on a bad day is Dr. I'm Sure to Get TB Sitting in This Filthy Waiting Room. Or wait, maybe I already have TB hence the problem. Last night, my three year old tells me: "Stop coughing in my face." In actuality, I was in the same room thank you very much but not in his face.

But wait, there's more! I now cry more than Representative John Boehner in that my 2011 problem as I approach 40 is constant watery, oozy eyes to where it appears I'm constantly crying. Oh joy.