So, today I’m doing the closest thing I can to the walk of shame.

You know the walk. Back in the dorms in college, at about 7AM on the weekends you’d see a mass exodus of what appeared to be really pretty zombies: chicks with messy hair, a collection of their purse and belongings balled up in their arms, one high heeled shoe still on, limping back to their place while desperately avoiding eye-contact with anyone, lest they explode into a flaming ball of disgrace.

The walk of shame. Now, since I have almost no sense of what one might call “self-respect” or “dignity,” I’m mostly immune to things like that. Think of me as the Darkman of shame- I just don’t have the ability to sense those things.

This is why many times in my life I’ve been “that guy.” That guy who offends all your friends. That guy who tried so hard to make the night legendary that no one had fun. Lucky for me, it’s rare that I’m the “no-belt guy,” and it’ll be years before I’m “the comb-over guy,” but you get it.

But I’ve been trying really hard to quell that reputation in recent years. No, serious. If you know me and think I say offensive or inappropriate things, know this: at least 90% of every thought in my mind would get me beaten senseless if spoken out loud. By an angry mob. And no one would go to jail. The mere fact that I have any friends testifies to my incredible powers of restraint.

Of course, alcohol can sometimes weaken my ability to maintain restraint.

Saturday night was one of those times. For reasons completely out of my control I spent 3 nights in a row indulging in the firewater. Again, it wasn’t my fault: there was the party at @michellereno’s, the taping of the pirate video which required heavy drinking and then on Saturday a Burning Man themed party that required the wearing of a tutu. Now, I like to have fun, but I need to be pretty tanked to don a tutu.

Now, I don’t remember every thing I drank, but one of those had to be a shot of “Go piss everyone off.” There’s the bartender I was snotty to, the convenience store clerk who just wanted to run my purchase- not hear my unfunny jokes, the doorman who repeatedly had to tell me not to try and enter through the back side (it’s ok to laugh at how that sounds).

Well, it seems that at some point I lost my wallet. Luckily all it had was our ID’s and no credit cards, but funny thing- everyone who may have it is someone “that guy” probably annoyed. Now it’s Thursday and I’m having to backtrack through the week, running into people I may or may not have offended and asking them if they’ve seen my wallet – and if I’m lucky it may be sitting right next to my self-respect I lost in highschool.

So if you see me while I’m doing the walk of shame today, please don’t look me in the eye- I may be rendered to a pile of ashes.

Since getting married and selling out to the man for a desk job, I have- through a strict regiment of beer and hot pockets- dedicated myself to developing the figure of a German grandmother. Today I realized that I do indeed have a problem.

A moment ago, while stretching at my desk, my pants button jettisoned into my coffee. Plunk.

Fair enough, I thought, my belt should keep everything together for the rest of the day.

When to my horror I realized- I forgot my belt. I never forget my belt. I picked today to be the no-belt-guy.

So now 4 staples stand between me and indecent exposure.

I had my first homosexual experience last friday.

I’ve always considered myself quite the deviant, but this time I raised the bar.

1. I had someone enter the back door.
2. I was on so much drugs I don’t even remember the experience.
3. Once they were finished, I paid them.

Top that, sickos.

Dont look at me. I can feel the sting of your judgement. What adults let people to do to them behind closed doors is none of your business. Unless you pay to download it.

As it went, on Friday a very nice man and a couple nurses went spelunking in my colon to see why my tummy hurt so much a few weeks back.

On the positive side I can now say I have something in common with captain super-blogger Tony Pierce. On the down side I also have something in common with Paris Hilton- since the doctor taped it. With night vision.

Afterwards I was sitting in the waiting area, still a bit giddy from the drugs and thanking all that’s good and holy that I had no memory of the ordeal when the Dr. came to deliver the news. Que awkward moment:

“Good news, it was just hemmoroids.”

“um, that’s good?”

“Oh wait. That’s not your file.”

(shuffling)

“So that’s some other gentleman’s starfish we’re checking out then, Doc?”

“I’m so sorry. Here’s yours- you have a touch of Diverticulosis. Don’t eat nuts or sunflower seeds and you should be fine.”

Poor mortified Doc left in a hurry since the guy with the photogenic pooper was probably the man sitting two chairs away.

Luckily my file contained only a diagram of my intestines, instead of a full photo spread. And I guess I can deal with cutting out nuts. I’ll miss cashews, but let’s be honest- peanuts got old a long time ago.

My advice: don’t make fun of doctors. If you’re not lucky, some day one might decide he’s had enough and stick a camera up your ass.

Links:

• TONYPIERCE.COM: At a point in every person’s life

• EDADKINS.COM: Tragedy Strikes my pooper
• THE ZEROBOSS: It’s Always a Competition

I stepped off the plane, and into the dumbest nightmare imaginable.

This is Phoenix. It’s going to be somewhere around 732 degrees tomorrow. “oh, but it’s a dry heat.” Uh huh. That makes it better. That’s like saying, “but it’s the good herpes.”

Breezes out here are just depressing. When you grow up somewhere with actual seasons other than just “tollerable” and “hell” you expect a breeze to refresh you. Here, it feels like a hairdryer. One hits me and I just curl into a fetal position and cry. My tears instantly become steam and cook a passing bird.

I’m here for work.

Last year this conference was in New Orleans. It was heaven. Bars on every other corner. Cigar shops on the other ones. It was seedy and dirty and jazz was piping out of every open door. You don’t even want to know how I earned my beads. I felt like i was finally home. I swear I saw a baby with a Maker’s Mark bottle.

This year it’s in Phoenix. I think they fought that last fight scene from episode 3 here. At 3 in the afternoon lava pours from under the streets.

On a positive note, I got to hang out with my buddy Shanti and his chica Abigail. We hit some mexican place and a few margarittas and insano shots later we were sharing life stories. Outside, even though it was midnight, small children and animals were randomly combusting from the heat.

Anyway, I’m here in hell for 3 more days. If there’s anythig you want me to ask Julia Child or Yasser Arafat just let me know.

I went back to work today.

For about an hour and a half.

That’s when the mutations started. I quickly developed a rash over most of my body. Seriously, the guy who invented the andromeda strain must live next door to my house.

I now have red dots everywhere and everything above my ankles feels a mixture of itchy and pins & needles. Really bad case too.

Whoever bought the tall goofy voodoo doll with the goatee please stop burning it. Enough already.

If you’re still assembling your submission for the death pool, I might be a safe pick.

Basically, I’m falling apart.

I don’t get to find out what the problem is for 4 more weeks. That’s when they’re gonna stick a camera up my ass. Apparently the treatment for most gastro-intestinal problems is utter humiliation. Not only do they shove a Polaroid up there, but I hear they snip off a souvenir.

Nice.

It gets better though. In the week I’ve been home, my “problem” (they think either number one or number two) has graduated into full-on Mr. Captain Tripps (way to go copygodd- pick on a sick man.) Either a virus has caused this (my hope- then i have neither) or I have some super-flu on top of it. My temperature keeps popping up near 103, then down sub-98. I get so cold I layer all the blankets we have on me, and then i get so hot I sweat so much the couch looks like a kiddie pool.

On the upside, daytime television has made me feel a little better that I work 9 to 5.

You know some people with problem one actually get part of their colon removed? I guess that would leave them with a semicolon! HA! A little GI humor for you kids. I’ll be here all week!

Anyway, I know you’re jealous, what with my steady diet of oranges and oatmeal, the hot sweats and the chills. No worries. I don’t think I can give this to anyone unless we like rub colons or something. My gawd I am gross. Blame it on the vicodin.

For all of you anxiously awaiting every post here at EADC, you’ll have to wait for the next time I’m this conscious. From all of us here at EADC, take care of your pooper, America.

So the Doctor thinks I’ll be OK, but I have to stay off my colon for a few days.

After feeling all day that I was growing an evil twin in my small intestine, I spent the better part of last night in the ER.

It started out innocent enough- a little indigestion after dinner. But then the pressure started building in my gut. You know, that slow gassy buildup where your stomach keeps threatening you with gurgles similar to the last things the citizens of Pompeii ever heard? Once the pressure meets critical mass, it can only end in you doing that crampy zombie-shuffle to the crapper where you promptly go into violent labor, finally creating a Jackson Pollock piece in your toilet?

I just wish it went down like that.

Instead, we took the family to a field trip to urgent care. They sent us to the ER because they “didn’t have the right equipment” to diagnose me. That’s medical-speak for “we close in a half an hour- go somewhere else.” See, Jolene? Sweeping up at Haircutts Express DOES have some similarities to working in medicine.

Off to the hospital.

They gave me a little open-backed number when I got there, but I’ve gotta say whoever picked it out has horrible taste b/c it did nothing for my figure. (/Stewie voice)

You know how people catch even worse diseases IN hospitals? Like they go in with a sore throat and get pneumonia and die? Well, if there wasn’t already something horribly wrong with me already then it was watching the series finale of Smallville while waiting to be treated that severely irritated my bowels.

The upside to all the waiting? I had my first taste of Morphine. The downside? They wouldn’t let me take any home.

Apparently I either have something that will go away in a few days with antibiotics or get much, much worse. It was like having my mechanic say “oh yeah i think i fixed it, but drive it around a few days. If it explodes, bring it back.”

But then, even knowing that my innards were irritated, they still attempted to sodomize me on the way out. “Oh yeah, your insurance only pays 30% at Emergency Rooms.” Eh? Come again?

“Had you gone to urgent care your co-pay would be 40 bucks, but since you came here your bill is… (adding machine tics away) $248.00.” Thanks Urgent Care- you guys are super.

It gets better- the grand total including CAT scan, meds, and doctor’s bill will top off at nearly $1,500.00. Yes, we cried. It may double if the anti-biotics don’t work and my gut explodes.

But that’s not all! If it turns out that I have the Big Bad, I may never get to eat spicy foods again and have to cut back on meat.

Meat.

Spicy.

Kill me.

So, enough about me, how was your day?

“It’s either She goes or our family falls apart Ed. You have to end it.”

“How did you even know Helen and I were spending so much time together?”

“How could I not? You talk about her all the time, and anytime someone saw you they saw her too.”

“Man, I had no idea.”

“It’s really sad she could even drive a wedge between us. Besides, who even names their DVR, anyway?”

A few weeks ago it became obvious that with as many projects as we’re involved in and as much social stuff we do, if anything was going to get done around Casa de Adkins then cable would have to go.

Believe me, we labored over the idea for quite a while. If it were a movie they’d show a montage of us in all these scenes, each time in different clothes and looking more and more disheveled, desperately trying to re-budget our time to fit TV in. The music would be really intense too- just to show how hard of a decision it was.

It the last one I’d be wearing a wrinkled dress shirt- no tie- with the sleeves rolled up and my hair would be all greasy and messy and I’d be gripping a wrinkled piece of paper, shaking it into the air in defeat. Then the camera would start spinning on my face and fade to the scene earlier today when the cable guy came to take the DVR box.

I was with her till the bitter end. I held her in my lap till the connection finally faded. She didn’t deserve to die alone.

At her last sputter of life, she managed to flash a bunch of scenes from 24, Scrubs, Huff, Rescue Me, House, Family Guy and the whole Adult Swim lineup- all the shows still worth watching.

Then it was over. The dude handed me a release form to sign and I handed her over. “So you really got rid of Cable so you could read more?”

“Yeah man. It’s kind of scary facing the future without it, though. I’m not sure what to do next…

…You think you could just hang out a bit- I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sure man.”

“I’ll get a couple beers and some books. Fiction or non?”

The following is an internal conversation that occurred while Walking into the elevator the other day:

(Step into elevator, push Lobby)

MIND: … I can’t believe how quick the final exam got here- I’m so not prepared at-

ABDOMEN: Yo man.

MIND: …all. Maybe if I rush I…

ABDOMEN: Dude.

MIND: …get home… read my notes- WHAT?

ABDOMEN: I’m noticing some discomfort.

MIND: Whatever- just take care of it, I’m freaking out.

ABDOMEN: Ok

(FLOOR 11)

EARS: Did you hear that?

MIND: Will you guys please shut up!

NOSE: I’m with ears on this one. Something’s up.

EARS: I told you.

EYES: Nope, all’s clear. Ear’s full of crap again.

EARS: Dude, whatever- who asked you?

NOSE: Ohhhhh MAN!

MIND: Shut Up- wait… ears, nose, abdomen…

(FLOOR 10)

MIND: Holy Crap! Abdomen- what did you do?

ABDOMEN: I took care of it. Ask the butt.

BUTT: Wha? What? I just finished my nap- we going home already?

MIND: What have you done?!?! We’re in an ELEVATOR!

BUTT: wait a second- looks like I might have fired one off.

FACE: Que the redness and sweat.

EYES: I’m serious guys, I think you’re over reacting- there’s nothing there.

MIND: Abdomen!

ABDOMEN: Well, maybe you should listen to me once in a while.

MIND: Dude you can’t go around just-

NOSE: Oh my LORD! Hands- can you give me some help here? Close me up!

LEGS: We’ll get us out of this! Let’s go boys! Hup Hup hup…

MIND: WAIT!

LEFT HAND: No one leaves here until I push the button!

RIGHT HAND: Control freak.

NOSE: A little help!

LEFT HAND: I said hold on!

NOSE: Well, SOMEone didn’t look so shy when he was picking me earlier.

EYES: Oh MY- we’re watering now- What the hell did you eat?

FEET: Um, it kinda feels like we’re slowing down.

EARS: Wait, so like some one is getting on? Freaking classic.

MIND: EVERYONE CALM DOWN- THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! GAAHHHH! WEERREEE STOPING!!!!

NIPPLES: We’re all gonna die!!!!!

(FLOOR 9) (ding)

To be continued…

Not the way to start your day.

Picture yourself as me this morning- if, of course, you can handle that much cool for a second. Your eyes have barely fluttered, you hardly remember the couple times Heidi got up to hit snooze. On second thought, wait- get out of bed with my wife.

Now it’s me. I was just entering a state that could be considered early human. There’s a thud- and a whole mess of thudding in the bathroom. Badoombudumduumboom. Silence.

“Honey?”

Heidi drops stuff now and then, and I usually call out to make sure she’s ok. She usually responds with a touch of irritation that she’s perfectly fine.

“Hon?” Nothing.

I hurdle the expanse between the bedroom and bathroom in nothing flat. Sheets haven’t fallen before I’m at the door, opening it up. “Honey are you-”

She’s sprawled out on the floor, the water is still on. I. Totally. FREAK. OUT.

“HONEEEY!” I have never been so terrified in my entire life.

“WHAT!?!” She pops her head up, irritated. As if I just woke her unnecessarily.

I begin bawling for a second. I’m not ready to wake up this way. I compose myself. “Did you pass out or what?”

“No, I… I was showering, it got too hot in here, I started to leave, and then I was dreaming… um.” She reassesses the situation. On the floor. Soaking wet. Sprawled out. Good time for a nap?

I sit down, nerves shot. “Yeah honey you fainted or something.” We hug and I help her up into our room.

I am now absolutely no good for the day. I think it’s fair to say I can skip my morning poop. You know, usually it’s Heidi that finds me passed out. Go figure.

Authors Note: Heidi is fine. Apparently pregnant women faint sometimes, and she miraculously missed anything that would hurt her. I, being the anal one, concocted a safety plan for future fainting.

At that show in SF a week ago we decided to check our stuff. Sounds harmless, eh? Show is over and we go down to retrieve our items. In line we can hardly stand. It’s been an incredible weekend but, man, have we been awake for way too long. Up ’till four the first night hanging with Jason and Cherie, and now it’s 2 AM and we’re experiencing that dehydrated-tired you get a bit before your body just shuts down. Not to mention the bands were looooooud. One of the opening bands was incredibly tight, but louder than crap. Jason swears the lead guitarist was Gimli.

Well, it does have a happy ending. She’s canned. We have a check on its way for a new coat. I got the elf out with a q-tip and flushed him.

My head hurts. I’m sneesing green paste. My throat feels like I gargled a sea urchin.

Don’t worry about me though. Have a laugh at this comic.

One more weekend spent on homework. Lately my attitude about school has been extremely dismal. One more year… one more year… one more year…

Paid the piper today- to the tune of about 225 bucks.

First the story… We got here last year and eventually I go to register the Jeep. Now, the vehicle is under someone else’s name- and I’m making the payments. (My credit was far too screwed up after all college to get a car loan). SO, when I go to register, the DMV tells me I can’t. I’ve got to be on the title. Poo. Car loan people then tell me I can’t get on the title. Panic. Now, I call DMV again, they suggest I renew back in New Mexico.

LENGTHY process ensues. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago when one of Reno’s finest pulls me over. He listens to about 1.5 words of that previous story before slapping me a fat ticket. Apparently you CAN re-register in another state with a vehicle you don’t own. Silly me. Silly DMV. TODAY, a judge decided that since the DMV gave me faulty info he would do me a favor and cut the fine in half. Thanks, Judge. Maybe the DMV will pay the other half- think so?

Well, it’s been over a week and no one has returned my camera. It’s time I came to the realization that it’s gone. The only consolation I can have now is that somehow, it found it’s way into a good home where it’s taken care of and given lots of attention- not staring out a lonely pawnshop window, smeared with grease stains and cigarette ashes and so many broken dreams. In order to finish the grieving process, I have fashioned this tribute page- just CLICK ON THE CAMERA PIC- I hope it helps you cope like it has me.

It’s confirmed- I’m a total dork. The past few months have permanently shattered any hopes I had of climbing out of dorkdom. Why, you ask? Here are the recent updates…

• Lost my new camera (with anniversary pics)

• Failed to secure residency status (thereby making it almost certain that I will have to take a semester off, and then re-apply to my MBA program)
• Got a 350.00 ticket. (100.00 for speeding 250.00 for a long story involving the DMV)

AND NOW FOR THE GRAND FINALE…
I produce the newsletter for my work. Last minute the printshop needed another copy of the file before it went to final print. I said “sure” and proceeded to send them my ROUGH DRAFT. It’s in the hands of each of our clients, prospects and friends as I write this. Heh heh… I’m not even going to say it can’t get worse.

Dang. Had the most incredible weekend- that’s the good news. Lost my new camera on the way into work- that’s the bad news. Somehow, I put it in my briefcase/bag, walked from the parking lot to work and BOOM- it’s gone. My bet is it wasn’t in my case- its one of those over the shoulder things with a flap- I must have messed up putting it in. Anyhow, it had all the pics from our anniversary weekend. Poo. Plus digital cameras aren’t exactly disposable. I put up reward posters all over the lot I figure I dropped it in and called all the neighboring buildings- we’ll see.
You know those days when you wish you could relive THAT ONE IMPORTANT MOMENT? “If only I had double checked,” “if only I had left it home,” etc… Now all I can do is wait. It’s nerve-wracking. Can’t think.
Here’s how you can help: post comments on your most horrible disasters, ie. lost term papers, lost puppies, kids or whatever. It always feels better to know that someone out there felt as dumb as I do right now.