It all made sense – in my twisted, dark mind. I can walk you through my thinking and reasoning, if you like. Perhaps there was a touch of tunnel vision involved, but my intentions were good.
Heck, I was just trying to following my doctor’s instructions about getting my testosterone level as “high as you can.”
So here’s what happened:
I really don’t have a testosterone pool in my back yard. Instead, I have gel, lots and lots of gooey gel.
I slather myself in it every day, making sure every glob of it gets on me so that it can be absorbed by my skin and rocket my T-levels to the sky.
I use my hands to apply the gel, failing in my research to find any other way.
My story begins to turn south when I noticed how much of the gel was left on my hands after I finished an application.
“Hey, if I just leave that gel on my hands and let it dry, my body will have even more testosterone to absorb,” was my thinking.
Yes, I stopped washing my hands.
It was a solid plan – until a bowl of popcorn entered the picture.
Yep, I ate popcorn – with my testosterone-coated hands. Afterwards, I slowly licked the butter and salt off of my fingers. I am very tidy.
Did you know there is such a thing as “testosterone poisoning”? You women readers are saying, “Of course we did. All men everywhere are afflicted by this tragic condition. It’s why we don’t marry them and, instead, huddle together for warmth.”
Technically, what I experienced was a “testosterone overdose.” It comes about when you eat testosterone by having your fingers covered with it, then putting them into your mouth while consuming popcorn.
You might also be wondering about Betsy, who shared that bowl of popcorn with me. She is fine, thank God, and actually looks pretty good in a beard.
I, on the other hand, have been one sick puppy. Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for that old saying, “too much of a good thing.”
Ever been an idiot? If not, I can give you lessons.
How about the time I let my ground guy go home early while I was cutting the top out of a 80 foot pine tree?
I couldn’t get the top to go the right direction without help from someone pulling a rope from the ground, so I called out to young mother walking her child in a stroller.
She was unsympathetic, but kindly offered to call the fire department on my behalf. With the thought of the photo that would be in tomorrow’s paper in my head, I found superhuman strength to finish the job on my own.
As my newspaper buddy, David Wellham, tells me, “There is no good reason to be front page above the fold.”
Asses and idiots – we seem to be on a roll here of late, don’t we? By the way, did you read the comment from last week from my friend, Cindy?
“Hey Ed, women can be asses too. When that happens, they are called “ass-ets.”
You know you’ve done well when I repeat your jokes on my blog and to anyone else who will listen.
It seems I can be an ass and an idiot (there must be some overlap worth exploring here) at the same time.
As my body fights my cancer, it seems to have less time and energy available to serve my brain (notice, I just subtly played my cancer card).
We’re all idiots at one time or another.
The goal, I think, is to not make being an idiot your life’s work.
If you are a Christian, I have a
helpful required resource for you. “Being a Christian Without Being An Idiot” by Brad Stine:
If you aren’t a Christian, you should read the book anyway so that you can laugh at us. It’s okay. We deserve it.
Pray for us, also. We are working hard to grow up and be adults one day.
I’m wandering now and under the influence of narcotic pain pills (see “idiot” explanation above).
But this is your fault. This was going to be the post where I published all of your pithy comments about how not to be an ass. As it turns out, I only received one:
“Keep other people more important than yourself.”
Hmm. Maybe that covers it. Yes, I think it does.
The rest of you were apparently too distracted by my “French Toast Loaf” to be bothered with offering any self-improvement thoughts.
One desperate reader even threw my topic back in my face:
“Please include the French Toast Loaf recipe next time.
Only asses don’t share the good stuff.”
Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll give you the recipe (and thus, sigh, turn this “serious” cancer blog into a food blog) if you will do something for me:
I want to put up a new section on the blog where readers can ask questions and receive replies marked by wisdom and humor (yes, I am looking for someone else to write the responses).
Would you be so kind, in exchange for the awesome French Toast Loaf recipe, to ask a question of me in the “reply” section below this post?
You may also email me using the icon at the bottom of this post if you desire privacy. No names will be published in this new section of my blog.
The topic of your question is wide open. Yes, we can talk about what its like to have cancer, but this blog is about life, not just death.
The good news is you know I’m going to shoot straight with you. No bullshit or religious platitudes. I will respond with as much honesty and hope as I can muster. I promise.
Your questions may also be as personal as you like. My reputation left the building a long time ago.
Ok. If you will do this, you may now turn on your ovens and scroll down for the recipe (with some of my comments added for your reading pleasure).
French Toast Loaf
Yields 1 loaf (and many happy people)
- 12 thick slices day-old, white bread
- 4 eggs
- 2 sticks unsalted butter, cut into pats and chilled
- 1 ¼ cup heavy cream
- 1 cup brown sugar
- 1 ½ teaspoons cinnamon, divided into 1 teaspoon and ½ teaspoon portions
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- ¼ teaspoon nutmeg
- powdered sugar, garnish
- Spray a 9×5-inch loaf pan with non-stick spray and set aside.
- In a medium bowl, combine brown sugar with 1 teaspoon cinnamon and nutmeg. Mix well.
- Cut bread slices into 1 ½-inch strips and lay down a layer of bread strips inside the loaf pan.
- Sprinkle ⅓ of brown sugar mixture over the layer of bread, then add a layer of butter pats over the sugar, using ⅓ of the butter.
- Repeat with another 2 layers of bread, sugar and butter. Press down on bread with your hand to make sure it’s compacted. NOTE: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE SURE THERE IS NO TESTOSTERONE ON YOUR HAND, YOU IDIOT!
- In a large bowl, beat together the eggs, heavy cream, vanilla and remaining cinnamon.
- Pour batter slowly over the loaf, making sure to allow time for the bread to absorb all the liquid. Pay attention to the corners of the pan or they will be hard and dry and you will cough them up like a hairball.
- Cover pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
- Preheat oven to 325° F, remove plastic wrap, cover pan with aluminum foil, and bake (on a rimmed baking sheet) for 1 hour.
- Uncover (not you – the loaf!) and bake for another 20-25 minutes.
- Remove from oven and let stand 10 minutes, then place serving plate face down on top of loaf pan and invert loaf. Yes, you will serve the loaf upside down. It will taste the same, I promise.
- Place cinnamon stick on loaf to make photo you are going to take even more hip and cool.
- Slice and serve, garnished with powdered sugar.