Friday, September 08, 2006
I'm SICK
No, I don't mean sexually... well, maybe I am, but it's not that kinda blog. ;-)
Monday night I had a little bit of throat irritation, which I wrote off at 1st as being due to my mucous membranes having gotten so dried out from all the antihistamines I've been taking to combat my current plague of stress-induced hives... but a few hours later, my throat felt like it was full of razor blades, and I knew I was in trouble.
It's typical for my colds and flus to start out with a sore throat, but this was so bad that even drowning it in Chloraseptic didn't do more than reduce it slightly; I literally had to get out the Orajel and a Q-tip and swab the back of my throat with it (gagging many times, which felt just lovely)... this halfway numbed it, but left my mouth tasting like I'd sucked on a stack of pennies.
After a lousy night's sleep, punctuated at regular intervals by my waking up from dreams that I had a wire hanger jammed in my throat to find that the pain was real, I called my mother's house to break the bad news; Tuesday was my last chance to see my aunt and uncle before they left, most likely to not return for years, but because they were going to be at a wedding in a few days I couldn't risk infecting them, and, worse, my mother's due to start radiation soon and can't be exposed to any germs... we had to cancel our special plans, and I had to say goodbye to them over the phone, which made me feel like a worm even though there was no way around it.
Tuesday night I had my 1st fever, and the congestion descended on me; I conquered most of it with decongestants and nose spray, but thanks to the post-nasal drip and the continued sore throat I didn't sleep more than 20 consecutive minutes all night long. Wednesday was scary; I had several more fevers, the congestion kept building and building until I felt like my head was going to explode, and I had drilling pains in my temples... I'm legendary for getting horrible colds and flus, but I've NEVER had congestion get PAINFUL like that. The REALLY scary thing is that I'm also getting near-constant chest pain, which varies from mildly annoying to where I'm doubled over pressing desperately on my breastbone; this is NOT a common flu symptom... it's a warning sign of pneumonia.
If you're thinking that I should be beating feet to the nearest doctor, you're right; however, given my intense fear of doctors, which is so severe that I haven't been to see one since I was 14, I just can't bring myself to do it. On the + side, I've done some research, and I know that if I start getting short of breath, or my lips and nail beds get pale, or if I blow my nose and see blood, it's time to go to the emergency room; my husband has been told to keep checking on me and see if I've gotten groggy or unresponsive, and I'm updating him regularly about my symptoms (to which I've added body aches, raw skin, plugged ears and incipient laryngitis, although the head pain has gone away, thank goodness), so... we'll see how it goes.
The next thing I'd planned to write about was how rats have gotten into the attic, and my husband is up there right now, heroically risking being bitten to put glue traps over where the bed is because the rats have naturally chosen that spot to scratch around all night and keep waking me up (HE could sleep through rats running CHAINSAWS, but he took my word for it); as I was working on the last paragraph, I heard a THUNK in the attic, and was bracing myself for the report on what he'd wrecked up there... sadly, it turns out that he's managed to add a new one to his tally of all-time worst disasters. The beam he'd been standing on BROKE, and he fell, putting a leg completely through the ceiling... right over the head of the bed, which as a result was covered in plaster dust and FIBERGLASS (of course, my most expensive sheets and blanket were on there, sigh). I have to keep telling myself that it could easily have been much worse, that he could have fallen completely through and taken a far greater area of ceiling with him, or broken his ankle or leg if he'd fallen the wrong way with his leg through the hole, or hit the big beam at the edge of the hole with his back, neck or head... because this on top of being sicker than I've been in years, and still covered in hives, has got me hanging by a thread.
When I saw the damage, and the MESS... words fail me. My husband was trying to get me to leave the room to keep me from breathing in fiberglass, but rats wouldn't have a problem with jumping a few feet down to a bed, so I held my ground (although as far from the piles of insulation as possible) until he got up there with some boards and covered the hole. Then, I retreated to the family room while he went back into the bedroom (with a mask on to protect his lungs) and got to work; he had to cut down the hanging flaps of ceiling, gather up the fluffy pink chunks from the bed and floor, vacuum everything over and over and OVER, strip the bed, take the affected bedding outside and shake it out, open the window and run the fan to clear the air, and then go clean himself up.
We're going to have to hire a ceiling contractor to fix the beam and the ceiling; it won't be cheap. We might have to have the bedding, and the clothes my husband was wearing, professionally cleaned; at the very least, we need some professional advice before we try to wash any of it... and there's a non-trivial chance that that expensive blanket will be uncleanable. We barely have paths wide enough to walk through the rooms of our tightly-packed home, but we're going to have to figure out how to move a king-sized bed and piles of stuff into another part of the house, out of the way of the forthcoming workman... and my husband will have to move half a ton of boxes and such so that the workman can access the hole from the attic side.
What are the chances that the patched hole can be blended in with the rest of the ceiling?
How long before someone will be available to do the work?
What about the fiberglass in the carpet that the vacuum couldn't dislodge? Will it sink down to the padding or be picked up by our feet and get distributed all over the house... including in the bed on all our other sheets?
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!! I've killed EIGHT ants in the past few minutes, right around where I'm sitting on the floor with my laptop... and 2 of them were ON ME. I looked for a trail on the rug, but I can't find where they're coming from; chances are that they've been dropping down from the lighting fixture overhead, as vermin all too often do... they were probably in the attic and got chased off by the commotion. Between the hives, the thought of fiberglass particles, and now these ants, I've got itching on every inch of skin like you just wouldn't believe... my congestion is better tonight, but I'm guessing I won't be SLEEPING any better.
When I told my husband about the ants, he said, "What's next, locusts and frogs?" I don't know whether to laugh or cry...
My previous level of stress was sufficient to give me hives and a killer flu; what ELSE can happen to my beleaguered body, will flames start shooting out of my eyeballs? (My husband hopes NOT-he doesn't have asbestos undies.) I seem to be coping so far, perhaps because I'm too drained for my immune system to concoct any further surprises; cross your fingers that I DON'T have pneumonia, and that the ceiling repairs will cost less than a CAR... and that the contractor isn't a crook, which is probably the least likely of the 3.
Oh man, I REALLY need for this weekend to be calm, with nothing new breaking or crawling around my home...
Monday night I had a little bit of throat irritation, which I wrote off at 1st as being due to my mucous membranes having gotten so dried out from all the antihistamines I've been taking to combat my current plague of stress-induced hives... but a few hours later, my throat felt like it was full of razor blades, and I knew I was in trouble.
It's typical for my colds and flus to start out with a sore throat, but this was so bad that even drowning it in Chloraseptic didn't do more than reduce it slightly; I literally had to get out the Orajel and a Q-tip and swab the back of my throat with it (gagging many times, which felt just lovely)... this halfway numbed it, but left my mouth tasting like I'd sucked on a stack of pennies.
After a lousy night's sleep, punctuated at regular intervals by my waking up from dreams that I had a wire hanger jammed in my throat to find that the pain was real, I called my mother's house to break the bad news; Tuesday was my last chance to see my aunt and uncle before they left, most likely to not return for years, but because they were going to be at a wedding in a few days I couldn't risk infecting them, and, worse, my mother's due to start radiation soon and can't be exposed to any germs... we had to cancel our special plans, and I had to say goodbye to them over the phone, which made me feel like a worm even though there was no way around it.
Tuesday night I had my 1st fever, and the congestion descended on me; I conquered most of it with decongestants and nose spray, but thanks to the post-nasal drip and the continued sore throat I didn't sleep more than 20 consecutive minutes all night long. Wednesday was scary; I had several more fevers, the congestion kept building and building until I felt like my head was going to explode, and I had drilling pains in my temples... I'm legendary for getting horrible colds and flus, but I've NEVER had congestion get PAINFUL like that. The REALLY scary thing is that I'm also getting near-constant chest pain, which varies from mildly annoying to where I'm doubled over pressing desperately on my breastbone; this is NOT a common flu symptom... it's a warning sign of pneumonia.
If you're thinking that I should be beating feet to the nearest doctor, you're right; however, given my intense fear of doctors, which is so severe that I haven't been to see one since I was 14, I just can't bring myself to do it. On the + side, I've done some research, and I know that if I start getting short of breath, or my lips and nail beds get pale, or if I blow my nose and see blood, it's time to go to the emergency room; my husband has been told to keep checking on me and see if I've gotten groggy or unresponsive, and I'm updating him regularly about my symptoms (to which I've added body aches, raw skin, plugged ears and incipient laryngitis, although the head pain has gone away, thank goodness), so... we'll see how it goes.
The next thing I'd planned to write about was how rats have gotten into the attic, and my husband is up there right now, heroically risking being bitten to put glue traps over where the bed is because the rats have naturally chosen that spot to scratch around all night and keep waking me up (HE could sleep through rats running CHAINSAWS, but he took my word for it); as I was working on the last paragraph, I heard a THUNK in the attic, and was bracing myself for the report on what he'd wrecked up there... sadly, it turns out that he's managed to add a new one to his tally of all-time worst disasters. The beam he'd been standing on BROKE, and he fell, putting a leg completely through the ceiling... right over the head of the bed, which as a result was covered in plaster dust and FIBERGLASS (of course, my most expensive sheets and blanket were on there, sigh). I have to keep telling myself that it could easily have been much worse, that he could have fallen completely through and taken a far greater area of ceiling with him, or broken his ankle or leg if he'd fallen the wrong way with his leg through the hole, or hit the big beam at the edge of the hole with his back, neck or head... because this on top of being sicker than I've been in years, and still covered in hives, has got me hanging by a thread.
When I saw the damage, and the MESS... words fail me. My husband was trying to get me to leave the room to keep me from breathing in fiberglass, but rats wouldn't have a problem with jumping a few feet down to a bed, so I held my ground (although as far from the piles of insulation as possible) until he got up there with some boards and covered the hole. Then, I retreated to the family room while he went back into the bedroom (with a mask on to protect his lungs) and got to work; he had to cut down the hanging flaps of ceiling, gather up the fluffy pink chunks from the bed and floor, vacuum everything over and over and OVER, strip the bed, take the affected bedding outside and shake it out, open the window and run the fan to clear the air, and then go clean himself up.
We're going to have to hire a ceiling contractor to fix the beam and the ceiling; it won't be cheap. We might have to have the bedding, and the clothes my husband was wearing, professionally cleaned; at the very least, we need some professional advice before we try to wash any of it... and there's a non-trivial chance that that expensive blanket will be uncleanable. We barely have paths wide enough to walk through the rooms of our tightly-packed home, but we're going to have to figure out how to move a king-sized bed and piles of stuff into another part of the house, out of the way of the forthcoming workman... and my husband will have to move half a ton of boxes and such so that the workman can access the hole from the attic side.
What are the chances that the patched hole can be blended in with the rest of the ceiling?
How long before someone will be available to do the work?
What about the fiberglass in the carpet that the vacuum couldn't dislodge? Will it sink down to the padding or be picked up by our feet and get distributed all over the house... including in the bed on all our other sheets?
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!! I've killed EIGHT ants in the past few minutes, right around where I'm sitting on the floor with my laptop... and 2 of them were ON ME. I looked for a trail on the rug, but I can't find where they're coming from; chances are that they've been dropping down from the lighting fixture overhead, as vermin all too often do... they were probably in the attic and got chased off by the commotion. Between the hives, the thought of fiberglass particles, and now these ants, I've got itching on every inch of skin like you just wouldn't believe... my congestion is better tonight, but I'm guessing I won't be SLEEPING any better.
When I told my husband about the ants, he said, "What's next, locusts and frogs?" I don't know whether to laugh or cry...
My previous level of stress was sufficient to give me hives and a killer flu; what ELSE can happen to my beleaguered body, will flames start shooting out of my eyeballs? (My husband hopes NOT-he doesn't have asbestos undies.) I seem to be coping so far, perhaps because I'm too drained for my immune system to concoct any further surprises; cross your fingers that I DON'T have pneumonia, and that the ceiling repairs will cost less than a CAR... and that the contractor isn't a crook, which is probably the least likely of the 3.
Oh man, I REALLY need for this weekend to be calm, with nothing new breaking or crawling around my home...
Monday, September 04, 2006
Odds and ends
While I was organizing my bookmarks today, I came across the URL for a forum post about the band that my final boyfriend before my husband was in (don't be impressed, it was a local band), and followed an impulse to see if there was anything new there. There was; the bass player for that band, who I'd had a very brief involvement with before my ex-bf made his move, DIED a year ago. Someone I saw naked is DEAD. It's been freaking me out all day; not just because of the sexual angle, but because he was my age, and, although he hadn't been any more than a casual drinker when I knew him, he died of liver disease... how did THAT happen? Did his life take a big turn for the worse, driving him to drink, or did he just turn out to be one of the unlucky ones whose livers fall apart apropos of nothing?
I don't think of this guy often, but when I do it's with appreciation of his, er, areas of anatomical superiority... and from now on, when that happens, it'll be immediately followed by the memory that he's dead... how CREEPY is that?
A few hours later, I heard my husband cursing loudly and repeatedly in his study; he's usually a 1-curse-per-disaster type, so my blood virtually froze in my veins as I contemplated what he'd forgotten or destroyed THIS time that was causing such an atypical furor. It turned out that his explosive dismay was because he'd read that one of our heroes died today; Australian hunk, wildlife warrior, and hyper-caffeinated madman Steve Irwin (aka "The Crocodile Hunter").
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Irwin
Irwin was always getting up close and personal with large, dangerous creatures, but had shown himself so adept at dodging the endless attacks aimed at him that we thought he'd be at it until he retired; realistically, I guess we can't be too surprised that one of these enraged critters finally got him, but, heartbreakingly, it wasn't a shark, poisonous snake or croc that did him in, but a STINGRAY... there's something just plain indecent about him having been killed by a creature that's virtually never deadly after surviving so many that ARE. According to this article
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/5311298.stm
"Attacks on humans are a rarity - only one other person is known to have died in Australia from a stingray attack, at St Kilda, Melbourne in 1945."
His death is tragic, both for the usual reasons and because of all the educating, preserving, and passing on of passion for animals that he won't be able to do. RIP Steve; the Omni household will mourn you for a long time.
I'd left you hanging about several things, and I've belatedly remembered that I need to post updates, so here they are:
My mother still hasn't gone back to work; she's due to give it a try on Friday. Once they decide she's fully recovered from the surgery, they'll start with the radiation; for now, she's doing about as well as can be expected.
My aunt and uncle are leaving on Thursday; after the frenzy we went into trying to get the house cleaned up enough for them to visit, they never even came over here once (because my mother ending up being home every day rather than returning to work after 2 weeks as they originally thought she could)... which is just as well, as after the original surge of progress my husband refused to invest any further time in the project, or even to not make a mess out of what we'd already managed to tidy up. Despite my best efforts to hold back the deluge of dirt and disorder he creates wherever he goes, the only difference between the house now and before we worked on it is that the filthy carpet got Rug Doctor-ed... and since he never wipes his feet, the high-traffic areas are already looking dingy, sigh.
Speaking of the Rug Doctor, we made a bizarre discovery: Normally, we pre-treat with Spray 'n' Wash (it's far cheaper than the pre-treater they sell where you rent the machine, and does a better job), but we had a bottle of their new product, "Dual Power"
http://www.spraynwash.com/product.html#1
which has their regular formula on 1 side and Oxy on the other, and my husband, ever the tinkerer, wanted to give it a go; since it shoots a stream rather than being sprayable, he had to work it around with his feet to spread it throughout the carpet... and this agitation led to the carpet getting far cleaner than usual per pass, such that it was almost totally clean after several passes even though it looked like a mud puddle in the beginning. I know it sounds a little crazy to be rubbing cleaner into the rug with bare feet, but it WORKS; give it a try if your carpet's beyond the reach of normal cleaning.
The jury duty news is good; yes, I spent a week with my heart in my throat, not knowing which day, if any, my whole life would have to be put on hold at a moment's notice... BUT, I didn't ever have to go in. WHEW!!
The computer news is mixed: The good news is that my laptop's getting close to being totally squared away, and my husband's nearly done sorting through the 5000 files that he recovered from my wiped hard drive (see my post of 8-27-06), so I'll have the ones that were downloads rather than from cache back in my possession soon. The BAD news is that he wasn't giving me the full story when he told me that he'd recovered 5000 files; what he ACTUALLY recovered was 5000 GIFS... and TWENTY thousand jpgs, which he's ALSO going to have to sort through to find the tiny % that was stuff I'd saved, much to his chagrin (he'd convinced himself that I'd NEVER downloaded any jpgs, and thus that he could ignore them). He sure wishes now that he'd backed up my laptop before taking it in to be fixed, that he hadn't brushed off my concerns about the safety of my files, and that, when he was asked by the repair place if there were any un-backed-up files on the machine, he hadn't said "no" when he knew otherwise; he's got lots more hours of work ahead of him during which he can contemplate the wisdom of classifying my concerns about my computer as examples of "hysterical female" behavior, and of refusing to do a few minutes of work to prevent a disaster that'll take WEEKS to fully fix.
The bursitis news is good; it turned out to be just a brief flare-up, rather than 2 months of agony and the arm being useless until after the new year. Sadly, due to all the stress I've broken out in a lineup of big hives along the middle of the other arm; it doesn't affect my ability to use it, but it looks like I've got some exotic skin disease... and they ITCH.
A couple more things before I stagger off to bed:
It's usually easy to tell if a blog is written by someone who's using English as their 2nd language; their English is much better than that of the average American. I've noticed, though, that there's 1 word that non-native speakers often misuse; they say "stuffs" instead of "stuff." As a noun, "stuff" refers to multiple things and has no plural, but because the VERB "stuff" CAN have an "s" on the end the spellcheckers don't catch it when "stuffs" is used as a noun; it's one of the few ways to tell a non-native speaker from a native speaker with better than usual ability to use the language.
And I'll leave you with this jaw-dropper:
"An Indian businessman born with two penises wants one of them removed surgically as he wants to marry and lead a normal sexual life, a newspaper report said on Saturday.
The 24-year-old man from the northern state of Uttar Pradesh admitted himself to a New Delhi hospital this week with an extremely rare medical condition called penile duplication or diphallus, the Times of India said.
'Two fully functional penes is unheard of even in medical literature. In the more common form of diphallus, one organ is rudimentary,' the newspaper quoted a surgeon as saying."
http://today.reuters.com/News/CrisesArticle.aspx?storyId=DEL270522
Can you imagine what an AMERICAN man with 2 penises would do? Take out ads, put up billboards, and hire skywriters to spread the news that he's TWICE the man the average guy is, most likely. He'd have representatives from the porn industry knocking at his door night and day, pleading with him to use his assets on film; if he agreed, even people who'd never bought or rented a porn flick before would be paying top dollar to see whether both penises could be used at once, and to indulge their prurient interest in any sort of abnormality... heck, even an old married lady like me, who's done more than enough penis viewing for one lifetime, would probably be willing to part with a few bucks to take a peek at them. ;-)
I don't think of this guy often, but when I do it's with appreciation of his, er, areas of anatomical superiority... and from now on, when that happens, it'll be immediately followed by the memory that he's dead... how CREEPY is that?
A few hours later, I heard my husband cursing loudly and repeatedly in his study; he's usually a 1-curse-per-disaster type, so my blood virtually froze in my veins as I contemplated what he'd forgotten or destroyed THIS time that was causing such an atypical furor. It turned out that his explosive dismay was because he'd read that one of our heroes died today; Australian hunk, wildlife warrior, and hyper-caffeinated madman Steve Irwin (aka "The Crocodile Hunter").
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Irwin
Irwin was always getting up close and personal with large, dangerous creatures, but had shown himself so adept at dodging the endless attacks aimed at him that we thought he'd be at it until he retired; realistically, I guess we can't be too surprised that one of these enraged critters finally got him, but, heartbreakingly, it wasn't a shark, poisonous snake or croc that did him in, but a STINGRAY... there's something just plain indecent about him having been killed by a creature that's virtually never deadly after surviving so many that ARE. According to this article
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/5311298.stm
"Attacks on humans are a rarity - only one other person is known to have died in Australia from a stingray attack, at St Kilda, Melbourne in 1945."
His death is tragic, both for the usual reasons and because of all the educating, preserving, and passing on of passion for animals that he won't be able to do. RIP Steve; the Omni household will mourn you for a long time.
I'd left you hanging about several things, and I've belatedly remembered that I need to post updates, so here they are:
My mother still hasn't gone back to work; she's due to give it a try on Friday. Once they decide she's fully recovered from the surgery, they'll start with the radiation; for now, she's doing about as well as can be expected.
My aunt and uncle are leaving on Thursday; after the frenzy we went into trying to get the house cleaned up enough for them to visit, they never even came over here once (because my mother ending up being home every day rather than returning to work after 2 weeks as they originally thought she could)... which is just as well, as after the original surge of progress my husband refused to invest any further time in the project, or even to not make a mess out of what we'd already managed to tidy up. Despite my best efforts to hold back the deluge of dirt and disorder he creates wherever he goes, the only difference between the house now and before we worked on it is that the filthy carpet got Rug Doctor-ed... and since he never wipes his feet, the high-traffic areas are already looking dingy, sigh.
Speaking of the Rug Doctor, we made a bizarre discovery: Normally, we pre-treat with Spray 'n' Wash (it's far cheaper than the pre-treater they sell where you rent the machine, and does a better job), but we had a bottle of their new product, "Dual Power"
http://www.spraynwash.com/product.html#1
which has their regular formula on 1 side and Oxy on the other, and my husband, ever the tinkerer, wanted to give it a go; since it shoots a stream rather than being sprayable, he had to work it around with his feet to spread it throughout the carpet... and this agitation led to the carpet getting far cleaner than usual per pass, such that it was almost totally clean after several passes even though it looked like a mud puddle in the beginning. I know it sounds a little crazy to be rubbing cleaner into the rug with bare feet, but it WORKS; give it a try if your carpet's beyond the reach of normal cleaning.
The jury duty news is good; yes, I spent a week with my heart in my throat, not knowing which day, if any, my whole life would have to be put on hold at a moment's notice... BUT, I didn't ever have to go in. WHEW!!
The computer news is mixed: The good news is that my laptop's getting close to being totally squared away, and my husband's nearly done sorting through the 5000 files that he recovered from my wiped hard drive (see my post of 8-27-06), so I'll have the ones that were downloads rather than from cache back in my possession soon. The BAD news is that he wasn't giving me the full story when he told me that he'd recovered 5000 files; what he ACTUALLY recovered was 5000 GIFS... and TWENTY thousand jpgs, which he's ALSO going to have to sort through to find the tiny % that was stuff I'd saved, much to his chagrin (he'd convinced himself that I'd NEVER downloaded any jpgs, and thus that he could ignore them). He sure wishes now that he'd backed up my laptop before taking it in to be fixed, that he hadn't brushed off my concerns about the safety of my files, and that, when he was asked by the repair place if there were any un-backed-up files on the machine, he hadn't said "no" when he knew otherwise; he's got lots more hours of work ahead of him during which he can contemplate the wisdom of classifying my concerns about my computer as examples of "hysterical female" behavior, and of refusing to do a few minutes of work to prevent a disaster that'll take WEEKS to fully fix.
The bursitis news is good; it turned out to be just a brief flare-up, rather than 2 months of agony and the arm being useless until after the new year. Sadly, due to all the stress I've broken out in a lineup of big hives along the middle of the other arm; it doesn't affect my ability to use it, but it looks like I've got some exotic skin disease... and they ITCH.
A couple more things before I stagger off to bed:
It's usually easy to tell if a blog is written by someone who's using English as their 2nd language; their English is much better than that of the average American. I've noticed, though, that there's 1 word that non-native speakers often misuse; they say "stuffs" instead of "stuff." As a noun, "stuff" refers to multiple things and has no plural, but because the VERB "stuff" CAN have an "s" on the end the spellcheckers don't catch it when "stuffs" is used as a noun; it's one of the few ways to tell a non-native speaker from a native speaker with better than usual ability to use the language.
And I'll leave you with this jaw-dropper:
"An Indian businessman born with two penises wants one of them removed surgically as he wants to marry and lead a normal sexual life, a newspaper report said on Saturday.
The 24-year-old man from the northern state of Uttar Pradesh admitted himself to a New Delhi hospital this week with an extremely rare medical condition called penile duplication or diphallus, the Times of India said.
'Two fully functional penes is unheard of even in medical literature. In the more common form of diphallus, one organ is rudimentary,' the newspaper quoted a surgeon as saying."
http://today.reuters.com/News/CrisesArticle.aspx?storyId=DEL270522
Can you imagine what an AMERICAN man with 2 penises would do? Take out ads, put up billboards, and hire skywriters to spread the news that he's TWICE the man the average guy is, most likely. He'd have representatives from the porn industry knocking at his door night and day, pleading with him to use his assets on film; if he agreed, even people who'd never bought or rented a porn flick before would be paying top dollar to see whether both penises could be used at once, and to indulge their prurient interest in any sort of abnormality... heck, even an old married lady like me, who's done more than enough penis viewing for one lifetime, would probably be willing to part with a few bucks to take a peek at them. ;-)
