Tag Archives: Humor

Evil Gloating And Other Fun Things To Do With A Colonoscopy

If someone had told me 20 years ago that my future self would pay a man thousands of dollars to look up my butt with a camera, I would have done the whole “laugh in their face” thing (you know – HA! HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!  I laugh in your face!).  I mean, come on.  That had to be a joke, right?


When I turned 40, other 40-somethings told me how 40 was the decade all your shit started to fall apart.  Things like memory issues, bifocals, orthopedics, memory issues, hot flashes, support hose, bursitis, memory issues, heartburn, incontinence, tendonitis, memory issues and root canals.  And let’s not forget the start of yearly mammograms.  Oh, and memory issues.

Turning 50 is great, because you think all the bad stuff has happened already.  You walk into your yearly physical (because no matter what else happens, you still have to pay someone to look up your va-jay-jay-jay with a flashlight) and you are full of cocky attitude.  “Bring it on,” you say. “Hit me with your best shot,” you say. “Come at me, Bro,” you say – all while dancing around like Muhammad Ali on steroids.

Your doctor just calmly looks at you, and smiles, “So, when would you like to schedule your colonoscopy?”

Bam.  One punch knockout.

Colonoscopy stories, like birthing stories, are filled with horrific detail and evil gloating.  By the week of your appointment, you are scared shitless (Ha!  You wish!) and are well entrenched in what I call the 7 Stages of Preparing For Your Colonoscopy, which of course I am going to share with you because, you know, evil gloating.



“Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”




“What the heck!  This shit has to stop.”  (Get it?  HAHAHAHAHA)

“Where is that doctor?  I’m going to pop a cap in his ass.  See how he likes it.”

“You mean to tell me, that in this day and age of medical advancement that they haven’t come up with anything better than drinking 10 gallons of freaking laxative? (moments later….)  I’M NEVER, EVER DOING THIS AGAIN!  YOU HEAR ME?  NEVER!”  (insert muttering and additional colorful metaphors I can’t type in because my mother reads my blog).

“I better be losing a crap load of weight!”  (Do you see what I did there?  Hahahahaaa!  I kill me.)



“I’m going to flip a coin.  “Heads” means I get to cancel my appointment, okay?  Here we go..(flip)….dang.  Okay, let me try that again, only this time I call “tails”…(flip)…DANG IT.   Okay…2 out of 3…”

“The Bible!  Yes!  Flip it open and point my finger – God will surely tell me “Stay Home!  Eat Cake!” (squints eyes closed…flip, flip, flip, flip…point)  OKAY – WHO WROTE “GET A COLONOSCOPY YOU BIG BABY” ON EVERY PAGE OF MY BIBLE?”

“Isn’t 50 the new 40? That means I have 10 more years before I have to do this, right?”




“I’m dying.  I know it.  And that big jerk Dave will probably have “Death By Pooping” put on my headstone.”

“So.  Hungry.  Need.  Cake.”

“What if I have to drink more stuff at the doctor?  What if I go thru all this and they can’t do it?  What if the doctor gets distracted and pokes a hole thru my colon?  What if the doctor is really an alien and this is just an alien butt probe experiment? What if the alien doctor is really planting an alien baby and my stomach explodes in 9 months?  What if the alien doctor with the alien butt probe and the alien baby decides I’m really annoying and not worth the effort and just drops me off in some space dump with all the other reject experiments and I have to live the rest of my life intergalactic dumpster diving to survive?  Wait…they would probably just kill me.  Oh great, I’m dead for sure.”


“What’s that?  Why are you putting in that IV?  Are you an alien?  Why are you looking at me funny?  What’s in that needle?  I don’t want a butt probe!  I’ll be good, I swea…..aaaaah….dude…that’s like some really sweet stuff, man….hahahaha…I feel awesome….What?  Assume what position? Lie on my side and tuck my legs up?  Sure…you’re the bo…..zzzzzzzzzz…”


“Am I done?  I’m done right?  Oh sweet Jesus I’m done.”

“What?  You took pictures?  That’s my colon?  Huh.  Didn’t see that one coming.  But whatever – Yay!  I’m done!!”


In my case, I have another 10 years before I have to go back, so I will have many opportunities to relate my story to my younger friends as they come up to age 50 and hear those dreaded words from their own doctor.  You can bet I will exaggerate the hell out of it, too.

To sum up, here is an actual screen shot of a text conversation I had with my sister while I was downing laxatives and spending my night in the john.  I have pointed out a few of the classic stages.NOPE


Have you gotten a colonoscopy?  Was it really an alien abduction?  How many alien babies have you had?  Share your butt pro….colonoscopy story in the comments below!  May the “force” be with you!

Squeaky Clean As A Whistle,

This post is dedicated to my beautiful friend Carol, who was diagnosed with colon cancer 15 years ago, and was cancer free until January, 2015, when she was diagnosed with a new, aggressive cancer.  She died in April.  Carol was strong and courageous, and met death the same way she met life – with arms wide open.  

Don’t be a wuss.  Get your colonoscopy.




Go Fly A Kite

Man, I’m beat. I’ve been a big crab ass all week and wanted to tell several people to “go fly a kite”. Well, I really wanted to tell them to do something much ruder and much, MUCH, more acrobatic.  I could really use a beach, a beer, a cigarette and a big ole piece of chocolate cake.   Seeing as I won’t be getting any of those things in the near future, I decided to participate in Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge instead.  A huge “thank you” and blog hug to Cee for sponsoring these challenges each week (you should absolutely go check out her site), and thus likely saving me from a life of lung cancer, alcoholism, and sun burn, although I’m too far gone to be saved from chocolate cake.

Interestingly enough, this weeks photo challenge theme is the song, “Let’s Go Fly A Kite” – (You see what I did there?  How I tied that all in?  BOOM!  That’s how it’s done.  Hell yeah.)

With tuppence for paper and strings, You can have your own set of wings, With your feet on the ground, You’re a bird in a flight, With your fist holding tight, To the string of your kite. Oh, oh, oh! Let’s go fly a kite, Up to the highest height! Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring, Up through the atmosphere, Up where the air is clear, Oh, let’s go fly a kite!

Here are my entries:

Adorable cow kites at Neshota Park's Flags Over Lake Michigan

Adorable cow kites at Neshota Park’s Flags Over Lake Michigan

Flags Over Lake Michigan, Neshota Park

Flags Over Lake Michigan, Neshota Park

Up through the atmosphere!

Up through the atmosphere!

Until next time-

Crabby Sue

PS:  Found some weirdos on the beach…



Share My Weird…I Mean World

This week I am participating in another Cee sponsored post, called Share Your World – in part because I felt like I could have a little fun with the questions, but mostly because I squandered the majority of my vacation playing Zelda: Ocarina of Time instead of writing.  Yes, I am serious and yes, I am fully aware of my nerd status.

One of the advantages of having our daughter move back home has been hooking up her Wii, and downloading some old N64 games.  N64 is my FAVORITE gaming system of all time – so it has been fun to spend a few weeks hours playing Zelda.  Personal hygiene be damned – I have Floormasters to kill!

Anyway, I didn’t finish the story I was going to post today, so you are stuck learning about me instead.

Oh, but before I do – did you know you can play Oregon Trail online now?  For free?  I played today.  Everyone died.

Okay – here we go:

How do you get rid of pesky phone calls from telemarketers?

Since we don’t have a landline anymore, this is pretty much a non-issue.  THANK GOD.

Remember when CallerID first came out and your phone would ring and you would run like hell (trip on the dog, stub your toe, and crack your head on the cupboard) to check the phone to see who was calling before they hung up, only to find out it was a telemarketer?  Didn’t that suck?  Yeah.  And I am so happy my kids will never have to live thru that hell.

That’s right up there with having to physically walk over to the TV to change my channel.  And walking to school.  Remember walking to school?  Horrifying!

What are you a “natural” at doing?

Being a dumb ass.  Seriously.  Thankfully, most people find it humorous.

How often do you get a haircut?

Usually every 6 weeks.  I get it colored and highlighted each time, too.  My hair grows pretty fast and I am too vain to let my hair be silver.

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “fun”?

I do a lot of things for fun – reading, writing, biking, hiking, eating, kayaking, photography – it’s a long list. But for things that make me giggle uncontrollably – just give me a few minutes with my friends.  Email, on the phone, texting or in person – doesn’t matter.

I’m even writing a book about them.  It’s called Shit My Friends Say, which is a total rip off of  Shit My Dad Says by Justin Halpern (which I have never read but I watched the sitcom a few times so does that count?).   I will have to rename my book once I think of something suitably witty, but it’s pretty much a compilation of conversations with my friends that made me laugh.  A lot of it is x-rated (thanks, Dawn) so my mom isn’t allowed to read it.

My only regret is that I didn’t start my compilation earlier.  I could have published two books by now.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

Absolutely grateful for my husband.  That guy keeps my head above water.  And he’s funnier than shit, too.  I’m really saying “shit” a lot tonight.  My friend Dawn says it’s not a real swear word so I guess I’m safe.  She would know.

Next week, I hope to have the first part of a short story I am working on – you’ll have to let me know what you think.  Unless you don’t like it.  Then just lie to me.




Bell Choir Reject

I don’t know if I told you guys this, but I joined the bell choir at church.  If you are unfamiliar with the term “bell choir”, it’s a choir made up of people ringing hand bells to play a musical score.  Each person has 2-4 bells which they ring when their notes come up in the piece.

Dropping these in the middle of a piece is frowned upon.  Do not ask me how I know this.

Dropping these in the middle of a piece is frowned upon. Do not ask me how I know this.

I can hear you now.  “Sue?  The bell choir?  You do know you can’t use colorful metaphors when you play the wrong notes, right?  What were you thinking?”  It was a weak moment. I was tired and emotional (long story but the majority can be blamed on hormones) when the ring leader approached me (“ring leader”…get it? Hahahahaaaaa! I kill me.) one morning after church. She had an opening in the choir and remembered that I had played a few years ago as a mentor in the confirmation class and thought I would be a good fit.

A lot of factors played into my “yes” answer, besides hormones.  First of all, this was the second time she asked me – the first time being about a year ago and at that time I felt too committed (or maybe just needed TO BE committed.  You know, to the looney bin) to other things so I said no.  Plus I figured this would give her a chance to come to her senses and find someone who might actually know what they were doing.  Apparently, “coming to her senses” wore off after a year.  Or maybe she was desperate.  People will do a lot of unreasonable things when they are desperate.  Like asking nonmusical people to play in the bell choir.  Or accepting said bell choir offer.


Second, I kinda felt it was something God wanted me to do.  This has been a rough year for a lot of reasons (sadly, not all to be blamed on hormones), and my mind likes to play the Circle Game.  This is not a fun game.  It’s exhausting and frustrating and sometimes it makes me cry.  And yet, every time my mind suggests it, I’m all “Sure!  That sounds like fun!  What issue are we going to obsess about nonstop today?  My Life Is Going Nowhere?  Great!  We haven’t done that one since yesterday!”  Playing in the bell choir gave me something to concentrate on that I actually had control over.  Plus God was shoving me (rather firmly) from behind.

And finally – I love being the center of attention.  Shocking, I know.  I have always wished I had a choir appropriate voice. I have spent many a lost youthful hour belting out John Denver and Tony DeFranco songs in my trusty tape recorder, only to play them back in abject horror.

Still, I practice in the car every once in a while, to see if anything has improved. Sadly, it has not.  Dave still cranks up the radio to drown me out and my kids yell, “Oh my God, Mom. Stop.  STOP!  STAAAAHP.”


Playing in the bell choir allows me to live the dream.  I get to say things now like, “I’m sorry, I can’t attend.  I have choir practice.”  “Oh sure, I’ll come over, right after choir practice.”  “I have to be careful with my voice hands.  I’m in the choir, you know.” So now I get to be part of a choir, practice is only once a week and I get to create pretty music with a bunch of really nice (and patient) folks.  Everyone’s a winner.

Except, of course, for anyone listening, because Hello! – I can’t read music. When I played with the confirmation group, she had all of our notes color coded so it wasn’t very difficult for us to follow. When I saw a pink or green highlighted note, I rang my bell. Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeesy.

There is no color coding in the adult bell choir.  No conductor counting the measures out loud and pointing briskly at me when it’s my turn. I have to learn to read music, people.  REAL MUSIC.  And it’s seriously cutting into my obsessing time.  My own kids don’t recognize me.  “Who’s that lady over there humming at the kitchen table?”  “I dunno.  Mom?” “It’s not mom, you dork.  If it was mom, our ears would be bleeding.”  “I’m not a dork.  You’re a dork.” “No, you’re a dork.”  “No, YOU’RE a dork!”  “DORK!” “DOUBLE DORK!!”

So far, I have had about 5 practices and played in 4 services.  And I screwed up in every single one, without a single colorful metaphor escaping my lips.  Now that’s progress, people.  The rest of you will just have to worry about the world going to hell in a handbasket without me.  I’ll be over here, highlighting my notes.

Until next time,


PS.  Cake was not involved in any of the bell choir practices or services.  I have a note in to management.


Sue the Oddball: Cee’s Odd Ball Photo Challenge Week 33

I like to take pictures of my feet.  I really don’t know why.  I’m not a fan of my feet in particular, although I do love shoes.  So for my odd ball entry this week, I am entering myself.  Or at least my feet.

My feet love to be comfortable, so I am always in search of fun but comfy shoes. I found this pair of Keen’s over the summer.  Love them!


New shoes!

New shoes!

Once every couple of years I get to travel to New England for work, to hang out with my reps and hob nob with customers.  My second trip out there, my friend, the Divine Miss J, took us on an adventure to the Sea Ketch restaurant in New Hampshire, where we learned the correct pronunciation of the word “haddock”, sang loud renditions of Adele’s “Someone Like You” and hung out in a biker bar.  Oh and bought fried bread on the boardwalk.

My feet in the Pacific Ocean, on the beach in New Hampshire.

My feet in the Pacific Ocean, on the beach in New Hampshire.

Right before Dave and I went on our vacation to Tennessee a couple of summers ago, I needed a pedicure so bad, that I took a picture of my feet afterwards to record the momentous occasion for all posterity.

Pedicure!  Pretty feet ready for vacation!

Pedicure! Pretty feet ready for vacation!

My feet BEFORE the pedicure.

My feet BEFORE the pedicure.

That same year – my feet spent a lot of time riding on top of our kayaks.  It was a delicious summer.

My summer feet kayaking.  Hope I get to go next summer.

My summer feet kayaking. Hope I get to go next summer.

The picture below is the first time I took a picture of my feet.  Those are virgin feet right there.

My spring feet - taken by the Boynton Chapel.

My spring feet – taken by the Boynton Chapel.

Not my feet here, but still in the spirit of the oddball.  When Brett Favre went to the Vikings, many members of my family were bitter and angry.  Except my brother.  He remained a Brett fan, and was rewarded with this Christmas present that year.

My brother's traitorous feet.

My brother’s traitorous feet.

My friend Kay and I rode in the “Race the Lake” bicycle race in 2013 – 90 miles around Lake Winnebago.  Lots of new experiences, including drafting in a large group of about 100 riders.  I was feeling pretty full of myself when I took this picture.

My sweaty leg and foot in the middle of Race the Lake (bicycle race).

My sweaty leg and foot in the middle of Race the Lake (bicycle race).

In the winter, I love to wear wool socks.  Alpaca wool socks are my absolute favorite.

My winter feet all snug and cozy in my alpaca wool socks.

My winter feet all snug and cozy in my alpaca wool socks.

Of course, in the winter, I tend not to keep up with my grooming…

My feet before shaving.

My feet before shaving.

Not my feet again.  These are my son’s feet, taken in the Sears Tower (now the Willis Tower).  I was not amused to receive this text.

My son's feet trying to scare the crap out of his mother.

My son’s feet trying to scare the crap out of his mother.

My friend Meghan and I ran in the Run or Dye 5k last fall.  This is the aftermath.  My socks turned colors for weeks afterwards.

Mine and Meghan's feet right after we finished the Run or Dye color run.

For more fun Odd Balls – hop on over to Cee’s Odd Ball Challenge and check out the other entries!