Sunday, January 23, 2011

contextual advertising strikes back

I knew that last post would bite me in the ass.

When I update this blog, I log in with a Google account. Google advertising provides ad space on millions of web sites. Google knows what I write about because I'm logged in. See where this is going?

Lately I'm seeing a lot of these two.

That's just super. I'm 32 years old and I'm being bombarded by old people urology advertising. At least those ads aren't as odd as this one.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

this post gets pretty strange pretty fast

Last week I had a check-up at the ALS clinic. My breathing strength was still at rockstar levels, which was good. My legs were weaker, which was expected. My power wheelchair has been ordered, but I won't have it for five or six weeks.

Marney and I told my doctors we waited too long to get the power chair. We then asked if there were any assistive devices we should start looking at now. We figured being proactive would help in the long run.

Oh, how I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

My doctor said that at some point in the future I'll find it difficult to stand up to take a piss. As such, she recommended that I familiarize myself with the condom catheter. You can check one out here. She described it as a condom attached to funnel, attached to a flexible hose. Basically, the condom catheter is a Barbie-sized beer bong.

Here's where things get weird.

The doctor says, "They work great, and the adhesive really holds them in place."
I say, "I'm sorry, I thought you said adhesive."
The doctor says, "That's right. The condom part has adhesive on the inside."

Now, I'm no chemist, but I assume any adhesive you pee on can't be water soluble. I tried to think of what the adhesive could be, and came up with Crazy Glue, caulk, epoxy and PVC cement. My doctor must have noticed I was freaking out on the inside. She tried to assuage my fears by saying, "Hey, men have it way easier than women with this kind of thing." Sure, doc. There's nothing easier than going through life with a condom securely rubber cemented to my dong.*

* This actually would have kicked ass in college.

Anyway, the doctor offered to send me home with some samples so I could get used to the idea. She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a large plastic bag stuffed full of things. She announced, "Here's your goodie bag. I gave you two of each size so you can find the one that fits best."

How thoughtful. Also, there are different sizes!?!? I thought condoms came in two sizes, not enough to fill a grocery bag! And I think 'goodie bag' might be a bit of a misnomer. It was the saddest/most disturbing bag of goodies I ever received.

Here's where things get weirder.

My doctor reached in to the bag of woe and pulled out a handy flaccid wang size chart. Yes, such a thing exists. Wanna see it? Of course you don't, but here it is.

Click the pic for a larger view... not that size matters.

After the doctor left the room, I told Marney that I'd hang myself with the XL catheter if I turn out to be a size small. The XL is basically a latex wind sock—so I'm sure it would hold my weight.