Grumpy Summer Vacation, Day 4

This morning we grabbed a table outside to have breakfast. When the twins failed to materialize from the buffet room, I went searching for them. To my horror they'd set-up camp by the hot water spigot, giving free (and unsolicited) lessons to passersby on how to make hot chocolate while blocking the coffee urn (which is what most people were looking for). I dragged them off, restoring access to caffeine.

After breakfast we went back to Sea World, for day 2 of our pass. I produced our 5 tickets, and the wrinkled crone at the gate chewed me out because we have to give fingerprints that match each ticket, and since I hadn’t written each person’s name on the appropriate tickets “this will take forever to sort out, and you’re already holding up the line”.

Fortunately, we all got through on the first try, in spite of the fact that Mrs. Grumpy and I got through on child tickets and Frank and Marie used adult ones. So either we all have the same fingerprints or Sea World’s fingerprint-ID security system isn’t nearly as good as they think it is.

I spent the day hobbling around the park, due to Mrs. Grumpy stomping on my foot for trying to help a lady. We'd been going into the Shamu show, and some woman, who erroneously thought I looked helpful, came over and asked me if there was a difference between the 8:00 pm. and 10:00 pm "Shamu Rocks!" shows. I told her the 10:00 show was for adults only, and was called "Shamu Fucks!" That’s when my foot began hurting.

Why is it that my kids are too chicken shit to sit in the splash zones by themselves? And when I want to sit there, how come that’s suddenly the only time all day they won’t?

My Dad is always fun at these places, because he firmly feels you should be out of there before noon so he can go take a nap. When I was a kid, and stupid/naive/both, I believed him that a major amusement park would never be open past noon. Around 11:45 a.m. he’d say “Okay, that was the whole park, let's go somewhere for lunch and a nap". And then I'd go home and tell my friends about the 3 rides I'd been on, and they told me about the 45 they were on and the fireworks show at night, and I'd stupidly accept my father's explanation that they must have gone to a different park by the same name. It wasn't until I took my own kids to Disneyland that I realized the rides ran into the afternoon and night.

But my Dad has a truly remarkable talent. He can get into anything, regardless of what’s required to do so. He has the amazing ability, without saying a word, to look like he knows what he's doing and is where he's supposed to be. One year, on a Hawaiian vacation, we were driving around looking for a place to have lunch. He noticed a cruise ship in the harbor, parked in a lot near it, and led our family right past the ship’s guarded gangway and to the buffet. The security officer, who was checking everything that moved for a ship's ID, waved us through when my dad smiled and nodded to him. We ate there, and then strolled off and drove back to our hotel for his nap. On another trip he got us into a $25 per person luau with the same ability.

It was late afternoon at Seaworld and there was a Junior Achievement group having a private function at a pavilion, with a dinner buffet. There was a guard at the door, asking to see event tickets as people went it.

Mrs. Grumpy, my Mom, and I were walking past it, and suddenly noticed my Dad was inside, eating dinner and sitting with a group of parents. We didn’t know he’d even returned from his nap yet. As soon as we saw him we decided to try and join him, but were immediately stopped by the guard, who asked for our event tickets and photo ID's. My Dad stood inside laughing at us, then wandered over and said to the guard "It's okay, Bill, they're with me." The guard immediately smiled and let us through, so we had dinner with Junior Achievement.

How come the men’s room urinal has a sign above it explaining (in both English and Spanish) the dangers of drinking alcohol if you're pregnant?

While waiting in line (again) the twins began hitting each other, just as I noticed this sign nearby:



When I asked the employee standing there I was told that I couldn’t trade my kids in for another set. Is that false advertising or what?

On the way out we stopped to see if anyone had turned in Craig’s lost baseball cap. Another Mr. Asshole was in there, arguing with the manager on duty. He wanted his money back on the grounds that, after spending a full day at Sea World, he’d decided there weren't enough rides to make him happy.

Because we’re going on a cruise tomorrow, we had to do a bunch of laundry tonight. So Mrs. Grumpy and I took turns in the Residence Inn laundry room.

I gotta tell you, these other Residence Inn travelers are laundromatically aggressive psychopaths (or maybe they're still angry over not getting coffee this morning). If you aren't there they'll actually pull your wet clothes out of a machine, toss them on the floor, and reset the machine with their own load.

So I got a book and a shotgun and set up camp to protect, wash, and dry. We had a lot of laundry, and after a while other people using the room began to assume I worked there. They asked me for change, directions to the zoo, and how to get out coffee stains (I suggested a mixture of bleach and Bisquick, and if it ruined your shirt, you should have known better anyway).

Sea World Question

It just occured to me, while sitting here, maybe one of you can help me out.

In the early-mid 1970's, when my parents took my sister and I to Sea World, the sea lion show (the same one I'm waiting for now) had a trained bird named Pauline in it. My sister and I fought over whether Pauline was a duck (me) or penguin (my sister). I know we should know the difference, but remember we were little kids, and because of my Father's fear of getting sea lion germs splashed on him we were sitting pretty damn far from the stage.

If anyone remembers this character, please feel free to submit your answers or recollections.

Vacation Interlude

We're at Sea World again, waiting for the Seamore and Clyde show to start. I'll post more tonight.

I just want to chip in and thank all of you who saw the karma in Mr. Asshole losing his cell phone yesterday, as well in this past post.

I have to say that I think the BEST LINE EVER about this sort of thing was uttered by the late John Ritter, in a long forgotten 1989 movie called "Skin Deep". So here it is:

"There is a God! And he's a gag writer!"

Grumpy Summer Vacation, Day 3

Today we went to Seaworld. Traffic was light, but people here drive like children.




We were in the usual line to get in, with a group of obnoxious teenagers in front of us. As soon as they got in one of them ran over to the first souvenir booth and blew a wad of money on a HUGE Shamu stuffed animal. Literally 8-10 feet long and 2 feet wide. After walking away with her prize it suddenly dawned on Einstein and her friends that this was not something they could comfortably drag around with them all day.

So they decided to rent a locker. It was obvious (to all but this group) that they were too small to hold Shamu. This was quickly becoming the best show in the park.

They hauled mammoth Shamu over to the lockers, which were the size of an average high school locker. And into this they tried to cram a stuffed animal bigger than a Volkswagen. Simple observation showed it wouldn't fit, but they sure tried, pushing Shamu in head first, tail first, dorsal fin first. Of course, none of this worked, but one had to admire their efforts. They then went to ask for their money back on the locker rental, but couldn't get a refund. So they put their purses in, instead.

At this point the locker attendant, who I'd assumed was enjoying the show as much as we were, ruined everything by suggesting they put Shamu in their car. They thought this was a grand idea, and carried monster toy off. They were back a few minutes later, still lugging Shamu, because they'd left their car keys in the locker.


Sea World has these expensive "interactive adventures" where you can be a trainer for a day, assisting with the care and feeding of dolphins, whales, and various other flora & fauna. I could just see myself working the "Wild Arctic" polar bear display:

Dr. Grumpy: "So what are we doing now with the polar bears?"

Trainer: "It's their feeding time. Don't worry about the locked door, we'll be back for you later Mr. Grumpy!"

Dr. Grumpy: "It's DOCTOR Grumpy! Hey, open this door! HEY! HEY!"


Ar the Cirque de la Mer show a family in matching baseball caps sat next to us. During the act a clown went over and lifted up the father's hat. Not only was dad bald, but he had a wad of money under his hat for safekeeping. The clown and Dad both looked pretty surprised when a bunch of $20’s fell out. The clown quickly gave the hat back and went to find another victim.

There is nothing as embarrassing as having your kid go up and loudly ask the attendant at the penguin exhibit why Sea World’s penguins don't dance like the ones in "Happy Feet". Mrs. Grumpy and I pulled paper bags over our heads.

Apparently assholes go on Summer Vacation, too. The kids and I went on the “Journey to Atlantis” roller coaster. There was a guy in our car who was on his cell phone when he got in, arguing with someone at the other end. He wouldn’t hang up, and the attendant came over and said, “Sir, I can’t start the ride until you put the phone away”. Mr. Asshole yelled back “It’s an important call, damn it!”. Then people in line began yelling, and the attendant came over to take Mr. Asshole off the ride. So he put the phone in his pocket, and the ride started.

As soon as we were on our way, of course, he whipped out the phone again and began talking to somebody “Yeah, the dumb kid who runs the ride made me put it away for a minute”.

We hit the first big drop, and the phone flew out of his hand, disappearing into the water 50 feet below. It was awesome. As we left the ride I watched Mr. Asshole arguing with a superviser that the park was at fault for him losing the phone, and demanding they buy him a new one. I hope like hell they don’t.

After this we sent the kids off to the playground, while I went to pee. The bathroom music was “Play that Funky Music, White Boy”, and I got to watch the guy at the urinal next to me trying to pee, disco dance, and sing, all at the same time. Like watching a gong show audition.

Later in the day we went over to see the Budweiser Clydesdales (yes, they live at Sea World). There was a small fenced pasture in the back, with a solitary horse wandering slowly around it and a security guard leaning on the rail. He was being chewed out by a crazed man insisting that the pasture was too close to the rollercoaster, which was terrifying the poor horse (who didn't look at all terrified). The guard was trying to be polite, but obviously had no idea how to respond to this irrational fruitcake. The guy actually finished off by saying that he was going to write a letter to both his congressman AND the Audubon Society (really!) What is with people?

If you buy ice cream at Sea World they give you these great plastic bowls, which Mrs. Grumpy loves to have at home. Since ice cream here is expensive, and we’re trying to save money for next week’s cruise, she’s been watching to see if anyone abandons some at a table so she can nab them.

Late in the day she grabbed me to say that she’d just seen some tossed into a trash can, and (of course) wanted ME to get them.

So, doing what any parent would do, I told Frank to go get them (Hey! That’s what kids are for!). Unfortunately, as he walked over to do so, a guy with a rake came over and mashed down the garbage so they were beyond his arms’ reach.

I prayed none of my patients were watching, walked over, and pulled them out of the garbage myself. And then I looked at Frank and loudly said “Frank! Mom told you not to throw these away!”

When in doubt, blame your kids. If they’re not around, blame the dog.

Grumpy Summer Vacation, Day 2

Breakfast at Residence Inn. I love the smell of Diet Coke and artificially processed waffle-flavored batter in the morning.

Today we went to Legoland. It should be noted here that today’s post is not as funny as you might expect. At some point at Legoland your kids wander into an area where they can sit and play with Legos and Duplos (which they want to do for hours), and you suddenly realize you just took out a 2nd mortgage to pay for them to play with Legos and Duplos at Legoland, which they can do at your house FOR FREE. And that ain’t funny.

Driving there we discovered my son Craig is under the impression that any car with an “Obama” bumper sticker is actually the one that the President is riding in at that moment. Since a lot of cars still have them on, Craig is now wondering why the C-in-C is following us all over California. [Please note- this paragraph was written to show childhood silliness, and is not meant to express either a red or blue viewpoint. I do not want this blog to be a political war zone, and political comments from either side will not be published.]

I left Legoland’s address in our room, but our Garmin GPS gadget has an entry for “Legoland”. I punched that in (hoping that it wouldn’t take us to Legoland Denmark). For mysterious reasons it took us to the delivery entrance. So here we are, in a mini-van, in a line of delivery trucks and other Garmin using mini-vans, trying to find our way to the regular parking lot. While the kids went nuts because they could see Legoland over the fence, and couldn’t figure out why we weren’t getting out of the car and going in. By the time we got in to the park my parents had fallen asleep on a bench at the entrance while waiting for us.

I was in line for the Dragon rollercoaster when my cell phone rings. It’s Mary back at my office. Dr. Unka, a cardiologist in my town, is looking for me. So I called him back.

Dr. Grumpy: “Hi Unka, this is Ibee Grumpy.”

Dr. Unka: “Ibee, one of my patients had a stroke this morning. He’s over at the hospital, and I need you to consult on him.”

Dr. Grumpy: “Thanks, Unka, but I’m at Legoland”.

Dr. Unka: “Is that at the mall?”

Dr. Grumpy: “No, it’s in San Diego.”

Dr. Unka: “So when will you get here to see him?”

Dr. Grumpy: “I’m on vacation.”

Dr. Unka: “Well, he’s had a stroke. Couldn’t you just fly home for a few hours to take care of this?”

Dr. Grumpy: “Unka, I’m not going to take a day off my trip to see a consult. Why don’t you call the neurologist on call?”

Dr. Unka: “I don’t trust him.”

Dr. Grumpy: “I’m flattered, Unka, but I can’t come back for 1 patient.”

Dr. Unka: “Okay, I’ll keep him at the hospital until you get back.”


I love Legoland. It gives a parent hope. Some days you think your kid will never grow up to find a job he’s capable of, and here there’s a park built entirely out of Legos, some of it quite remarkable, and you realize that maybe this is something your child can do. I know mine can spend all day building stuff with Legos, then losing them in the sofa cushions. So why can't they do this for a living?

(click to enlarge)




Mrs. Grumpy brought the kids a snack consisting of crackers and 2 flavors of instant spray-on cheese. They ate the crackers and had a fight with the spray-on cheese (like it was silly string) while standing in line for “Captain Cranky’s Challenge”, showering other riders with artificial dairy products. I dragged them out of line to keep other happy families from killing them, and put them on a water ride to hose down.

While dragging them off for something more substantial, I was in line behind 2 obese women who were talking about the food at Legoland, and how much they liked that it was healthy. In particular the fact that they had apple fries at one place (deep fried apple slices, served with a side of heavy cream), and they thought that was a form of health food. If you consider that healthy, I can see why you are the size of a bus.

If your kids like Splash Mountain, DO NOT take them on the log ride at Legoland. It has to be the wimpiest log ride, ever. It is never a good sign when the log ride can only have 3 logs going at a time.

They have a ride called Bionicle Blasters. This is a tamer version of the Disney teacups. But my kids, always interested in any ride that might make me nauseas and vomit in public, got me on board. It was a windy afternoon, and the ride wasn't too bad until a large hairy animal suddenly flew into our car. My horror was replaced by shock when I looked up and realized that it was the hairpiece belonging to a sheepish appearing bald man in the car next to ours.

I took the kids on the Legoland mini-golf course. Never a good idea with Marie (for those of you who aren’t aware of her golfing skills, read the last 2 paragraphs of this post). On the 5th hole she teed off like she was trying to hit the ball to Catalina, narrowly missing a pregnant lady and knocking a chunk off the claw of a Lego statue of a grizzly bear. I put the chunk back in place and returned to the game. And carefully helped Marie swing on future holes.

After our exciting day at Legoland, my Dad wanted to take the family to a nearby Italian restaurant. It was in a strip mall, and had a sign in the window that said "We Make Our Own Sausage". This is not normally a big deal, but the next business over in the strip mall was an animal hospital. I suggested going to Costco for pizza, but got voted down. But I still didn’t try the sausage.

After dinner we went back to Legoland, only to find it had closed for the night. That’s early for an amusement park. I can only assume that it was past bedtime for the guys who build the big Lego stuff.

Our attempts to read and relax back at the hotel were shattered (along with a glass candy jar) when a swordfight broke out in our room.





And that’s the way it is.

Grumpy Summer Vacation, Day 1

We met my parents in San Diego this year. They’re staying at a Residence Inn, but Mrs. Grumpy had made reservations for us at a different place miles away. The clerk she booked it with told her it was in a "safe, family, neighborhood".

When we got here after a long 2-day drive it was nice to learn that local families felt safe in a hotel that was bordered on one side by Les Titties Gentleman's Club and on the other by the Vick Hubcap Emporium and Doberman Stables. It was also reassuring, when we pulled through the barbed wire automatic gate, that the hotel was patrolled by an armed ex-convict walking a Rottweiler around the parking lot, and there was a line of couples at the check-in desk who looked like they were only planning on using the room for 30 minutes at most. The clerk reminded me of Pee-Wee Herman's character in "Cheech and Chong's Next Movie".

Mrs. Grumpy, concerned our children might be allergic to Rottweiler teeth, immediately called my parents and begged them to find us a room at their hotel, explaining that I wasn't comfortable with the pleasant looking place she'd picked out (LIAR!). Fortunately, there was plenty of space there.

We went over to that hotel. My mother was waiting for us by the curb, and had thoughtfully brought a large metal luggage cart out for us. We loaded it up with all the junk a family of 5 travels with: clothes, extra clothes, clothes I've never seen before in my life but magically appeared in our trunk during the drive, hangers, Nintendo DS, DS games, DVD movies to make them watch (at gunpoint if needed), a portable DVD player, Lunchables, Uncrustables, Inedibles, magazines, books, coloring books, puzzle books, stuffed animals, medicines, suntan lotion (3 strengths), 2 cell phones (with both car and wall chargers), bags of toiletries, snacks, 12-packs of Diet Coke, coupon books, hats, sunglasses, pool toys, sand toys, hotel room toys, crayons, pencils, paper, juice boxes, a roll of film (WTF? we only have digital cameras!), my faithful laptop, AA batteries, AAA batteries, batteries of a type not seen since Edison made them, books, cameras, glue, tape, and other assorted items Mrs. Grumpy felt was essential. By the time we were finished the luggage cart was sagging in the middle and looked like it was on the verge of collapse. And so while Mrs. Grumpy led the kids off I went to pull the cart up to the room.

After dragging it around the parking lot looking for a ramp a few times, I asked my mom how she'd gotten it off the sidewalk. She said she hadn't seen a ramp, and had just pulled it down. This was easy when the cart was empty. But it wasn't now. And I'd be damned if I'd unload it, push it up on the sidewalk, and reload it. So off I went on a 12 mile hike pushing the Grumpy Expedition 2009 luggage down onto a local street, around a restaurant in front of the hotel, and finally up a ramp in the handicapped space on the far side of the building. And of course the place's only elevator was located on the other side of the hotel, back near our parking space. By the time I found our room I was half expecting to see my picture on a milk carton (“last seen pushing a luggage cart with possibly stolen goods”).

I staggered into the room, covered in sweat and desperately needing to pee. The clan looked at me with their best "where the hell did you go with the luggage" glares. It was hot in the room, and Mrs. Grumpy was over in the corner fighting with the air conditioning unit. It only had a power button, but nothing to control temperature, and was blowing warm air. So while I gratefully stumbled into the bathroom, she called maintenance.

They sent up a guy who showed us the temperature control, which was in a large wall-mounted box, marked "TEMPERATURE CONTROL" positioned in plain site that we’d somehow missed, or thought was a piece of abstract art, or something. We were idiots. He didn't tell us that. But you could tell he wanted to. I know the look. I give it to my stupider patients all the time. I'm sure tonight I'll be posted on his blog "Grumpy Maintenance Guy".

After such an exciting day we took the kids out for a deluxe dinner at McD’s. We pulled into the drive-thru. It was awesome. We heard this:

Mrs Grumpy: "We'd like 3 chicken chunk happy meals".

Male voice on speaker: "Okay, that's 3 chicken happy meals and what did you...” (cell phone ring noise) “Hello? Hey bitch! I'm at work! Don’t call me here! You think I got nothing better to do than listen to you yap!” (coworker's voice in background) “Hey! Keep your ugly nose out of my business and go flip some burgers or something! Sorry ma'am, what did you want to drink with those happy meals?"

Good night, Colonel Kurtz, wherever you are.

Heart of Darkness

There are some journeys in life that we try not to discuss.

They can be so dark, so disturbing, so frightening, that even the bravest of adults don’t want to talk about them. When forced to do so we use hushed voices, as if silence will protect us, to no avail. Only once, in 1983, has a movie adequately portrayed the horror of one such journey.

And we face the most dreaded journey of all at this time. And it’s the Grumpy family’s turn to address it.

The time has come to confront our worst fears and begin.

It’s Summer vacation.

Tough Choices

For those of you who don't know, an EMG/NCS is an unpleasant neurological test we do. It's to determine nerve and muscle function, and involves running electrical shocks through limbs, then sticking needles into various muscle groups. It's not horrible, but not fun, either. But it gives us a lot of useful information.

Anyway, a guy called in today to schedule one. His internist had ordered it.

My secretary explained the procedure to him, needles, shocks, blood, gore, etc. He didn't really care, but had very specific dates and times he could come for the study.

As the conversation went on it turned out that the dates and times he wanted the study done coincided with when his Mother-in-law would be at his house, and he felt the EMG/NCS was preferable to seeing her.

Another Fine Patient Quote

"I've had a rash for 15 years. It's everywhere. I mean, nobody can see it, because it's invisible. Sometimes I can see it, but doctors can't. But it's still a really bad rash. Like poison ivy, if that were invisible."

Today's Brainteaser

Today's guessing game was supplied by Mr. Mystery Patient, who called at 11:25 last night:

"Hello, mumble gargle patient of Dr. Grumpy's cough sneeze in my briefcase snap crackle pop pain medicine garble static mumble so I'll just call back in the morning."

More Allergy Fun

Today's patient quote:

"I once had a rash from Sulfa, so now I have to avoid all other Aspirin products."

Clarifying My Position

In the heat of being pissed over the FDA panels recommendations on Acetaminophen, I didn't really clarify my position, and so got all kinds of comments and email from both sides of the aisle.

To summarize my worthless viewpoints:

1. I stand by my point about regulating cars, pools, alcohol, and tobacco. The bottom line is that no amount of guidance, laws, and regulations will EVER protect people from their own stupidity and misuse (intentional or unintentional) of ANYTHING! People such as The Angry Pharmacist's "Cracky McCrackhead Addict" will continue to do whatever the hell they want.

2. I have no problem with regulating Acetaminophen (or APAP for short) to smaller doses and/or cutting out the combo meds. I'm not sure the APAP component really does much compared to the narc, and it falsely gives the impression these drugs are less addictive.

I understand the risks of hepatic toxicity (and, from a more practical viewpoint, rebound headaches), and have counseled patients about this for years. APAP is in a HUGE number of both OTC and prescription drugs, where it's existence isn't well listed. Many of these are "me too" crap, where the public buys them without reading the ingredients, and ends up unintentionally taking too much APAP. Getting half of this junk off the shelves would be nice.

3. Pain is a serious issue. Especially for people who are suffering from terminal illness. None of us want to die in misery. In a perfect world we wouldn't need pain medications. But we don't live in one.

And that's all, folks!

I'm Going to Throttle My Children

Our house was originally built in 1993. For no apparent reason the kitchen had a ledge put about 12 feet up on the walls. Since no one can see or reach up there, I assume it hasn't been dusted since it was first installed.

After getting back from the Independence Day Carnival at damn near midnight, and our kids waking us up at 5:30 this morning beating each other up over whether to watch Nick or Cartoon Network, Mrs. Grumpy and I really needed a nap.

When I woke after a very deep 2 hours, I discovered it had snowed dust bunnies in our kitchen. All over the floor, counters, sink, stove.

Apparently, while we were dozing, the Junior Legion of Home Terrorists began launching balloon rockets in the kitchen.

One of them didn't come down. So they assumed it was on one of these ledges. They got a ladder and climbed up, and with a broom swept 16 years of dust bunnies, spider webs, dead bugs, dog hair (how the hell does dog hair get up there, anyway?), and heaven knows what else, all over the kitchen.

The missing rocket, for the record, was lying in the hallway the whole time.

Stupid People At Large

Yesterday we went to an outdoor Independence Day carnival. At some point I wandered over to the snack bar and heard this great conversation:

Woman in line: "Do you have bottled water?"

Clerk: "Yes, we do."

Woman in line "What kind is it?"

Clerk: "Uh, the wet kind."