It was claustrophobic in my FIL’s hospital room, so I took a walk down the corridor. As I walked past ICU, an old man beckoned to me from inside his room. I was reluctant to enter. I was unsure of hospital policy, and frankly, I didn’t want to get involved, but something — a bizarre curiosity, dragged me into the room, like a rope around my waist.

“Hello,” I said. “Can I help you? Do you want me to get you a nurse?”

“No, Father. I am ready to meet my Maker. To shake the hand of Jesus. To see my wife. I want you to give me my last rites.”

I was in a rush that morning, throwing a dirty black shirt over a dirty white t-shirt, and this elderly man, with his poor vision and medicated mind, was confusing me with a priest.

The beep of his heart monitor went erratic and a red light flashed. An alarm sounded with an emergency code. I could hear running in the corridor. This man was about to take his last breath. I was not a priest. I was not Catholic. But who was I to refuse this man his last moments?

“You are blessed,” I said, in the solemn tone of a hospital chaplain. “You have been a good man. Jesus and Mary love you!”

I was winging it. I tried to remember some movie scene involving a priest’s rites, one that I could steal from, but all I could think about was The Exorcist.

“Do you have an regrets about this life you lead on Earth? Would you like to speak them now.” I quickly asked, knowing that I only had a few seconds left with him.

“Yes,” he said, solemnly. “I regret not getting retweeted more on Twitter.”

And then he died.

The ICU unit was in chaos as I left his room. A male nurse ran in and tried to revive him, but I knew it was hopeless. He had already revealed all.

Truth quotient — 0%

+++

I can understand how he felt. I have had my own regrets. I’ve been so busy in the hospital that I forgot to change my avatar on Twitter for those affected by the Haitian earthquake. I was finally going to do it yesterday, when I took a little break in the hospital cafeteria with my iphone, but I noticed that everyone had already changed their avatars to The New Orleans Saints for the Super Bowl, so I guess I missed out my chance! Life moves so fast online. I hate when I miss out on an avatar switch!

Truth quotient — 10%

+++

It was Sophia’s step-father’s birthday yesterday. All the nurses in the unit – about 25 in total – came in with a cake and sang happy birthday. It was a beautiful moment.

I posted the photo on Twitter. I asked the nurses if any of them were on Twitter, and none of them were. Eh, I probably wouldn’t follow any of them anyway. Probably not very good writers.

Truth quotient — 95%

I’ll be back soon.

I’m going to attend BlogHer again. It is my only chance to see so many of you, and it is important to me to have some real life contact to make my blogging “real.” Last year was a lot of fun, but I still have this nagging feeling that I don’t really belong — and that it might be time for me to expand my horizons. Maybe next year, I will look into SWSX, or a conference that isn’t so gender-based. But I appreciate that I was accepted so readily by everyone, as if I were one of the girls.

(Danny, if you want to argue why I shouldn’t go at all, please do! Maybe we both should go to SWSX!)

I am excited that the conference is in New York. Last year, Amy and I submitted an idea for a “room of your own” on Storytelling. We thought it was a good idea because there were no real sessions on writing.

This year, I am glad to report that there is a whole writing track, with several sessions slated.

Currently, my blogging mind is less focused on my writing (which really bothers me) than on figuring out what my online experience means to me — and whether it is even healthy.

That’s when I thought of this new “Room of Your Own.” — Blogging, Twitter, Facebook, Whatever — The Online Addict’s One Hour Support Group. I didn’t see any other session that deals with this problem. Of course, I would like to keep this discussion on the funny side — hey, we all know what I am talking about with this issue — despite the seriousness.

This idea comes out of a personal need to engage in this conversation rather than an overwhelming need to stand in front of a bunch of bloggers again who want to fight with me. I’d be just as happy hanging out with a few of you in Central Park and talking about this issue.

I hate the popularity contest aspect of these rooms, but if you want to vote for the room, you can do so here. (if you have any suggestions for improving the concept, please tell me)

The proposal –

Blogging, Twitter, Facebook, Whatever — The Online Addict’s One Hour Support Group

Blogging is a lot different today than it was a few years ago. It has become more than just writing or career development. It has become a 21st century of making friends and establishing relationships. But with this wonderful development comes a whole new set of 21st century social issues and anxieties, one of them being that our online life frequently BECOMES our life.

Are you an online addict? Take this quick quiz:

* 1) Are you writing a blog post in your head while making love to your husband?
* 2) Have you accidentally called your three year old son “Guy Kawasaki?”
* 3) Does “enjoying quality time with friends” mean playing Words With Friends on your iphone?

Is there a point where our online life becomes TOO MUCH?

We all love our blogging friends, but have you ever asked yourself, “Who are these online friends anyway? Are they our real friends if we only see them once a year at BlogHer? Are we neglecting our old friends at home because it is “easier” to deal with virtual friends? Have we spread ourselves too thin on so many social media sites? Is it even possible to follow 1000+ people? Who should we care most about? Influentials? Readers of our blog? Community members in need, even those that are strangers? When does “caring” about each other become unhealthy?”

The truth is more of us quit blogging because of this personal issue than anything to do with our writing or the branding of our blog.

Since this session is run by bloggers, not trained psychiatrists, we can’t give any professional advice, but as bloggers, we can discuss our feelings and responses to this growing problem, as well as share our solutions to keeping our sanity in a virtual world. Participants will learn methods of reducing their information overload, as well as analyzing various ways to improve the quality of their online relationships — without it taking over their lives.

A few months ago, I struck a deal with the blogger Schmutzie.   If she didn’t smoke for an entire month, I would do at least ten push-ups a month in support of her effort.   Today, she is a model of health.

This week, I noticed that Tanis of The Redneck Mommy, another fine Canadian blogger, was also trying to stop this awful habit.   What is it with Canadians and smoking? Being a good Samaritan, I made the same bargain with her.   However, unlike the loving and good-natured Schmutzie, Tanis would only agree to this deal if there was daily verification that I was doing the push-ups, as if she was the United Nations dealing with the Iraqi nuclear program.  Hopefully, when she has completely eliminated cigarettes from her life, she will also learn to trust her fellow man.

Here is day one of my push-ups.   Notice the irony of Sophia (who is filming me with my iphone) saying that my “neck is getting redder” as I attempt my ten push-ups, even though she has no idea that I am doing this for a blogger named “Redneck.”

I’m taking a quick break from my one week journal, after one entry! (hey, it is my blog and I can do what I want) because I’m reading all these posts lately on “fat acceptance – yes or no,” written by some female bloggers, and the tone of some of these posts — and the comments — is unsettling.

I find it odd that in the middle of difficult economic times and horrible disasters around the world, so many people are fighting online about weight issues.  Why aren’t women more supportive of each other on this topic?  I though blogging was supposed to be a meeting of the minds, not bodies.

What’s going on?!

Fat Acceptance is Bullshit
Jessica Gottleib

Coming Out
Swistle

I Call Bull
Aquafit

Fat Acceptance
Immortal Matriarch

What if Fat Doesn’t Mean Miserable
She Just Walks Around With It

I’ve written about women and size on my blog in the past.  In fact, someone asked me recently how I ended up with a majority of female readers.  It was not my intention when I started to blog.  If you go into my archives, you will see that my first three posts were dumb little items about pop culture.

My fourth post, on March 14, 2005, was a post titled OhmyGod!  A Size 14 in the Beverly Center!

This post was my first “true-life” entry (90% truth quotient) about shopping with “F,” my “cousin from Israel” for size 14 clothes at a popular mall in Los Angeles.  This “F” was not my cousin, but Sophia.  I was still unclear at the time whether to use her real name, or even to talk about my wife at all.  I was a blogging newbie.  When I wrote this post, I was not setting myself up to be someone specifically interested in women’s issues.  I’m not a woman, but I was MARRIED to one.  I was writing it as a guy who accompanied his wife when she went shopping for clothes, and it was a pain in the ass finding clothes for her.  Very few husbands enjoy shopping with their wives, including me, and I just wanted the experience  to be painless as possible, but after shopping a few times with Sophia, I understood why men wanted to date women who are size 2.  It wasn’t because they are “sexier.”  It is because they can get in and out of Macy’s in a shorter amount of time.  The size 2 clothes are on the main floor.  The size 14 clothes are on the seventh floor, by the kitchen appliances, and the styles tend to look like potato sacks.

This post attracted six commenters, all of them women, which was six more commenters than my first three posts combined.   The rest is history.  I started viewing my readership as being largely women, and once I tasted the forbidden fruit, I just couldn’t stop.

Throughout the years, Sophia’s size fluctuated between 12-16, depending on several factors, some health related and others just because we ate too many pastries.

Every year or so, I seem to bring up this weight issue, mostly because I saw how concerned she was over this subject.  In May, 2006, I wrote a post titled “Fat People.

In this post, I compared “fat” discrimination to anti-Semitism.   The comparison was probably unfair, but the post provoked a lot of discussion.

One of my favorite posts is titled “Neilochka Sex:  Boycott the  Fashion Industry!”

In the post, I make fun of the lack of support between women over this weight discrimination issue.  If you think about it, mothers will boycott Motrin for a silly commercial, but say very little about 3/4 of their peers unable to go into certain stores which only cater to certain sizes (and surprise, surprise, many of those NOT size 2 are African-American and Latina women!)  I still get angry comments on this post, usually in support of the fashion industry.  I get a sense that some fashionable women don’t think other women “deserve” to wear nice clothes.

Three days ago, I wrote a darkly “funny” post about replacing our health care system with Jillian Roberts 30-Day Shred DVDs.  Some commenters got mad at me for writing statements such as:

“The fashion industry does a better job than the medical establishment in promoting HEALTH with their healthy thin, role-models. Those who insist that “real” (read fat) women should be portrayed in ads, are not your friends. These women, so-called “feminists,” are mostly lobbyists for the pharmaceutical companies wanting to promote bad health to increase profits for diet pills.”

I apologize if I hurt anyone’s feelings, even though I thought I was making fun of exercise fanatics.   In some circles, this is called “satire.”  You should see what some female bloggers actually SAY without being tongue in cheek.

I’m not fat.  I don’t think Sophia is fat.  Neither of us have abs that are very impressive.  I do think obesity is an issue in America.  I do think exercise is wonderful and important, and I should try to get more healthy, no matter what my weight.

I also think education is important, and if guy drops out of high school, I don’t say he is a lazy loser, because I don’t know the circumstances of his life.   I also don’t look down him because when he becomes a plumber and makes ten times as much money as me, I don’t want him laughing at me for wasting my life with this ridiculous “writing” nonsense!

Be nice.  And remember, when you get to be 75, the bigger woman will always look younger.  My size 18 mother looks 60.  Her size 2 friend with 20 plastic surgeries looks 90.

We should all exercise.  We should all eat right.  Better education, housing, and pay for all Americans will do a lot more for obesity than calling names, or dismissing people wanting to accept themselves in a society that makes them feel second class.   Rather than judging each other on weight, we should judge each other on how many orgasms we have each month.  That is a better barometer of a person’s happiness.

Finally, as I said on Twitter earlier today, “God help us if they ever perfect penis enlargement and men are made to feel as insecure as women with their weight.”

Sunday, January 24, 2010

I want to try an experiment.  I’m only going to write one post this week, the one you are reading right now, but I will be updating it each night until next Sunday.  It will be a seven night long post.

“Why?”

I’m attracted to the idea because it is counter-intuitive.  I don’t think this idea will attract readers, and the updates won’t show up in the Google Reader.

“So, what’s the point?”

The idea scares me.  And I like that.  Because I will be writing this for YOU.  And by YOU, I mean ME.

I took this photo in the hospital today.   Sophia’s FIL is still in the hospital.   I spent the day there with Sophia’s mother.  Things became worse because he had a heart attack on Friday night.  This has been a three week ordeal now.    When I first made my plans to come to LA, it was discuss our relationship.   Instead, stress has moved into our home with us, like termites of the soul, eating away at the foundation of everything.

Monday, January 25, 2010

- next -

Several months ago, I was invited to join a group that wanted to promote more women directors, writers, and female-oriented films in Hollywood.  I signed up, and later day I received an email that I was blocked from the site because the administrators decided that they wanted the site to just be for women bloggers.  I understood the reasons.   I wasn’t hurt or angry, but at the time I didn’t say the obvious — it was a dumb move on a practical level.  I was the one who knew something about Hollywood.  I had contacts.  I had experience writing movie scripts.  And my own personal tastes leaned towards character-oriented films.   I have seen every Meryl Streep movie at least three times, even the bad ones.

In my opinion, the group chose ideology over the real world.  When I first got blocked from the site, I composed a passive aggressive tweet on Twitter that said something like “Eh, screw my romantic comedy.  Time to start that violent thriller about Denzel Washington having to stop a bomb from blowing up the UN.”

Better to go with the demographic that at least talks to me.   And pays more.

+++

Do we realize that a big part of the Democratic loss in Massachusetts is that blue collar and middle-class white men, the “Joe Six Packs” of our country, don’t believe that the Democratic party cares about their interests?

The Suffolk University poll in Massachusetts, which was pretty much on target in the final result, singled out two white working class towns, Gardner and Fitchburg, as bellwethers. Obama won Gardner, where Democrats hold a three-to-one registrations edge, by 59% to 31% in 2008. Brown won it by 56% to 42%. Obama won Fitchburg, with a similar Democratic edge, by 60% to 38% in 2008. Brown won it by 59% to 40%. That suggests a fairly dramatic shift among white working class voters.

Why did this happen?  Why are only the Glenn Becks speaking to this constinuency?  I think Obama’s election was seen by many of us as the end of the Bush era — and the demise of the blue collar guys who shopped at Walmart and flew American flags on their porch.    We were a new, hipper coalition of upscale liberals with advanced university degrees, accomplished women, and strong-willed minorities who would forever change the face of America.  Hey, I consider myself part of that group.  But is it good politics to completely ignore those that could benefit by being included in the fold, even if they remind us of the relatives from Podunk, or Staten Island,  or because they don’t watch Jon Stewart or Rachel Maddow?

Many Democrats are shocked that a Republican won Ted Kennedy’s seat in Massachusetts yesterday. I’m not. It is a referendum on Obama’s health care plan, and I think I am uniquely experienced to comment on this subject. For the last two weeks, I have been visiting my father-in-law in the hospital, and just like a journalist going undercover, I have seen FIRST HAND how our health care system really works.

The simple fact is that there are a lot of sick people. Too many sick people.

The beds in the hospital are never empty for long. In fact, since my FIL has arrived in the hospital, he has had five different roommates, and one of them didn’t make it out alive. Is that really a good success rate?

And who are these sick people anyway? If we examine the word “sick,” we see that in general discourse, we mean someone “not healthy.” And why aren’t these individuals healthy? Is it the taxpayers responsibility? Should we really feel sympathy for a bunch of lazy leeches who CHOOSE not to care for themselves? Many of us work hard to look and feel good. It is something we are proud about. It is an achievement. But it is WORK. Hard work. Why should I subsidize those who don’t eat and exercise correctly?

Do you know how much it is costing YOU to keep my father in law in this fancy hospital room with costly equipment and highly paid “doctors?” You’re even paying for his FOOD, which gets delivered to him from a MENU, like in a four star hotel! Sorry, folks, but my family is using you like a bunch of suckers — and you don’t even realize it!

Obama has it wrong. Universal healthcare is like a band-aid, welfare for those who want to sleep late rather than go to the gym before work.

I’ve heard the excuses before. You say you have “no room” for an exercise bike in your bedroom. Well, you certainly find enough room in that bedroom for that big screen TV and that stack of burgers from In-N-Out, you scourge of America with your wii age of 95!

I work hard to stay out of the hospital, and then I have to pay for YOUR unhealthy fat ass who won’t walk to the supermarket! The fashion industry does a better job than the medical establishment in promoting HEALTH with their healthy thin, role-models. Those who insist that “real” (read fat) women should be portrayed in ads, are not your friends. These women, so-called “feminists,” are mostly lobbyists for the pharmaceutical companies wanting to promote bad health to increase profits for diet pills.

It breaks my heart to see my father-in-law sleeping so much. He used to be a strong guy who built chairs and loved to garden. But as he aged, he grew lazy. While the nurse was undressing him, I noticed that his abs had grown weak. I have seen photos of him when he was younger in the Soviet Army. He was a hunk! So, what happened? I blame America, the decadence of the West, her seductive processed foods, and her constant search for the easy way out.

As I thought about all those in the hospital, I had an “aha” moment. Fancy medical equipment and high priced pharmaceuticals are not the answer. Massachusetts voters were right. Obama’s health plan would bankrupt America. The real answer is as simple as $19.99 per American household. Yes, I am talking about Jillian Michael’s “30 Day Shred.”

If every American was required to complete this video, our country will truly be as healthy and fit as our forefathers hoped when they wrote the Constitution. Rather than pissing away our money into more debt to China by creating universal health care, our hospitals could be turned into greenhouses to grow organic tomatoes. I have a dream: One day, we will be a country of tight abs! After all, a person’s fat content tells a lot more about a person’s overall health than an EKG!

Granted, our country would need more qualified physical trainers, but this could be easily arranged by creating a ShredCorps. Many trainers could already be shipped to various parts of the country from Los Angeles, where one out of every three residents is an unemployed physical trainer.

Hospitals do not make you healthier. I can see the toll on my father in law. He is lethargic and depressed. Is this really worth $10,000 a day? Can you imagine the results if my father-in-law had Jillian Michaels yelling at him to to “push” one more crunch. He’d be his old self within days!

Next time you are in the hospital, take a look around. Why are the sick children lying in bed playing video games and getting fat on vanilla pudding? Those who are sick WANT to be sick so they can get free room and board at the hospital. If you want my tax money, I want you to WORK for it. Have those kids do squats to get better.

I applaud the people of Massachusetts, who are as revolutionary as in 1776. Throw those Crestors, Prozacs and diabetes monitors into Boston Harbor, and let’s ride like Paul Revere to a world of fitness.

“Jillian Michaels is coming! Jillian Michaels is coming”

It’s time for a revolution. Out of your beds, you lazy bums in Cedars-Sinai. It is time for your workout!

Editor’s Note: This is supposed to be a satire, perhaps not well done, but it made me laugh. I hate to have to put this disclaimer up on my blog because it ruins the joke, but let me be perfectly clear and state this to a new reader: No, despite me saying so in the post, I do not truly “believe” that we can solve our country’s health care problems by supplying sick people with Jillian Michael’s 30-Day Shred rather than having them stay in hospitals.

I’m not a big fan of “blog awards,” but if anyone is going to add a new twist to this type of endeavor and make them special, it is Schmutzie and her new Canadian Weblog Awards, because underneath her sweet demeanor is a woman with the soul of a radical.

Schmutize is an individual very concerned about how we label and identify each other, particularly when it comes to religion, ethnicity, and gender.

Check out the categories that she has created for the blog awards. Some are quite different, such as:

Ecology & Social Justice
Ex-Pat
Family & Parenting
Feminist
French Language
Health & Wellness (includes physical/mental health and disabilities)
LGBTQ
Life
Religion, Spirituality, & Philosophy
Science, Technology, & the Internet
Sports, Fitness, & Recreation

What I like about them is that she has thought “out of the box.” She has tried to be as inclusive as possible, following her own brand of thought.

“Religion, Spirituality, & Philosophy” – what’s so special about this category? Think about how many wars have been started over religious ideologies. Most of us see Christianity, secular existentialism, and crystal healing as angry antagonists, each movement thinking the other as hogwash, even dangerous. But what if, rather than focusing on what separates them, we look at what unifies?

Schmutzie doesn’t divide the religious, the secular, and the new age into three categories. She looks inward — at the common attitudes and interests of these seemingly disparate individuals – and puts them all in one category. Those who write about Religion, Spirituality, & Philosophy — the religious Jew, the religious Muslim, the vehement atheist, the philosphy professor, and the New Age guru — might all disagree with each other, even hate each other, but in reality, they ponder the same BIG issues – life, death, and ethics. They have more in common in what they WRITE ABOUT — than a co-religionist who blogs about Iphones. Why not focus on the common interests of these writers than the differences? Shouldn’t we categorize by content – the similarities in the thinking process — than on the specifics of the individual? Inclusive over Exclusive. Imagine if this type of thinking spread into the real world, where all THINKERS of all religions saw themselves as members of the same category?

The same could be said for the category titled: “Sports, Fitness, & Recreation”

Does a New York Yankee fanatic, a bodybuilder, a hunter, a fisherman, a guy who loves to fly kites, and a chess grandmaster blogger really belong together in one category?

You wouldn’t normally see these types of bloggers grouped together, but if you stop and think, all of these bloggers are hobbyists or fans, and are frequently obsessed with their hobbies, driving their spouses crazy on weekends. Sure, football is brawn and chess is brains, but I bet these individuals might actually hit it off if they had the chance, much like the football players and the geeks in the TV show Glee!

Today is Martin Luther King Day. Dr. King is one of my heroes. Is there any speech as powerful as his “I Have a Dream” speech?

“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

Is there any more powerful statement? If we broaden Dr. King’s vision to include social issues other than race, we create a world that is inclusive — unified by our character — our thoughts and actions — rather than isolated and excluded because of factors such as race, religion, or gender. It might be a stretch to go from Dr. King to blog award categories, but Dr. King WAS talking about categories — how we judge and see each other, and who we allow into our “group?” Are we exclusive in our words and actions or inclusive?

Perhaps Schmutzie’s most radical act for the awards is in the category of Family & Parenting. Schmutzie herself understands that she was going against the grain –

It was originally suggested to me that one of the categories that the 2010 Canadian Weblog Awards needed to have was Mommyblogging, but that label has always rubbed me the wrong way. It seems to embrace only one part of what constitutes parenting and family, especially in a world that acknowledges the diversity of family structures out there, not to mention fathers. So, the more inclusive Family & Parenting category was born. These bloggers write about the complexity of parenthood and family life in a way that would leave most parenting magazines quaking in their boots, so read, comment, and enjoy!

That is a powerful statement. Maybe the terms mommybloggers and daddybloggers are becoming just a little stale — by focusing on WHO — in the same way that we do race, religion, and gender — over WHAT — the content of the blog or interests of the person. Shouldn’t the mother who writes about sports or politics be considered a sports or political writer? Are the old-fashioned labels holding society back? If we are going to be using labels for our writing, should it be an identifier of the person or the content?

Schmutzie does it right; she creates a category of family and parenting as an umbrella for whoever writes about family. This could be a mom or dad who write about their family. It could be a gay man raising a child with his partner. It could be a single man who adopted a son. It could even be a woman who is caring for her sick sister. Are we going to say that these sisters are not a family unit, with the same types of problems that any family might have, just because they are not child-rearing. If I moved in with my MIL to care for her, and I started a blog about it, would you discount me from being in the “family” blog category along with your traditional mommyblogging blog?

Just thinking.

Sophia has been away all week on a job, so I have been here in LA, holding down the fort, like they used to say in the days when we lived in forts.  I’ve been spending a lot of time with Sophia’s step-father and mother at the hospital, which is stressful because they can only speak Russian, and my knowledge of the language is limited to food related statements like “Please pass me the blini” and exotic curses such as “Fuck you, your mother, every relative in their grave, and your two favorite horses.”

I’ve been spending a lot of time playing on my iphone, ignoring reality.  I do know what is going on in Haiti, and I am purposely keeping my head in the sand.  I just can’t deal with the news of the scope of the disaster.  Even the Leno-Conan O’Brien drama was too intense for me right now.

Speaking of iphones — did you know that the latest Facebook update transfers profile photos of your friends into your contacts, so if one of your virtual friends actually called you up, a large photo of your friend would appear on the bright screen as the Justin Timberlake ringtone played on your phone?

Why can’t real life run as smoothly as modern technology?

Playing with my iphone has helped release some tension (video apps!  Scrabble!),  but I have been quite cranky lately.  I would love to take it out on my readers, because I enjoy that, but since I am in the middle of a PR rehabilitaion, I have decided to take it out on my mother instead.  And I have good reason to.  Sophia’s parents are a little older than my mother, and I am seeing first hand how age can slow you down to the point where the child is caring for the parent.  This is when you wake up and realize that you are OLD.  My mother is in her seventies, but — knock on wood — KNOCK KNOCK — in great health.  She traveled through a million European cities last summer.   She is more energetic than I am.   But… old age comes fast.  I see it.

Usually, my mother calls me, bugging me like a stereotypical Jewish mother, reminding me to take my cholesterol medicine, or wondering why I still haven’t made a dentist appointment.   Today, I called her up to nag her.  It was MY TURN!

“How are you feeling today?” I asked, ready to pounce.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t you say your foot was bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I noticed in Queens that you sometimes had trouble standing up from the couch.”

“That’s because the stupid couch is too low.”

“It might be arthritis.”

“I have a little arthritis.”

“So, why don’t you see a doctor?”

“What is a doctor going to do?”

Normally, I would have given up with the questioning, but I felt as distrustful as an El Al security guard.

“Aren’t you taking yoga there?”

“Yes, every day.”

“But I know you.  You just do whatever the instructor tells everyone to do.  Speak to her.   Personally.  Tell her you want a special exercise suited for YOU.”

“Leave me alone.  I’m fine.  Did you make an appointment to your doctor yet while you are in LA?  And what’s going on with you and Sophia anyway?  Have you talked about it yet?  You can’t live like this forever…?”

“We’re not talking about me.  We are talking about you.”

“Me?  I’m enjoying life!  You’re the one who’s screwed up.  And besides, my cholesterol is lower than yours.”

“Do you know where I am going every day to visit Vartan?  This rehab clinic?  Do you know what it is LIKE in here?  It is awful.  You don’t FUCKING want to be in here.  I don’t want to FUCKING visit you in one of these places!”

“I know.  I’ve been there with my parents.  My mother was in a nursing home.  Half of Century Village ends up in assisted living.   Never put me in a nursing home.  I’d rather be dead.”

“Stop talking nonsense.  Go exercise your legs.”

“Right now?  I’m eating lunch.”

“You don’t want to EVER fall and break a hip.  Because that is BAD NEWS at your age.”

“I’m fine.  YOU need to exercise.”

“Stop being an idiot, Mom!  You’re getting old.”

“I am old.”

“You’re not old.”

“I am old.  So, if I fall, you’re not coming to visit me?”

“You’re acting a real jerk today.  Just don’t fall, OK?  And don’t eat too much deli food.  It’s not healthy.”

“I’m eating a chicken salad sandwich.  You’re the one who goes to McDonald’s.”

“We’re talking about YOU.  Sheesh!  You’re impossible!!”

Later that day, my mother called up, probably wanting to remind me AGAIN to make my doctor’s appointment.  At first, I didn’t know it was my mother because this Facebook photo appeared full screen in my iphone behind my mother’s name  –

Either this Facebook “contact” information app has a serious bug in it, or my mother really HAS been taking good care of herself in Florida!

I have no idea who this girl is in the photo.   Obviously technology is as fucked up as real life.