HML Volume I, Issue III

I've discovered something far worse than a summer camp run by teenagers. It's a nursing home run by old people. I'll explain. My grandmother has not been well for a while and for the last few months, she has stayed at Mary Manning Nursing Home over on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She's had a tough life and she deserves the best care possible. But when I walked into that place the other day with my mom and we had learned that my grandmother had to be rushed to the hospital, we were greeted not by a staff of nurses or an attending physician. No, we were greeted by a woman who is slightly doing better than my grandma. Basically, there were old people running the lobby. Here's a little bit of what the conversation looked like:

MOM: Hi, do you know what hospital my mother, Barbara Dunn, has been brought to?
OLD WOMAN #1: (Shuffles papers in a vain attempt to look occupied and looks over the slightly younger woman's should who is sitting underneath her answering a call) Who?
MOM: My mother, Barbara Dunn, was just rushed to a hospital. Do you know which one?
OLD WOMAN #2: (On the phone) Just hold one moment
OW #1: What you...shhh...do you...have....who...you need? (Inaudible squeaks)
OW #2: (More confusion...) What's your mother's name?
MOM: Barabara Dunn. Room 206.
OW #1: (Still looking at papers with nothing on them)
OW #2: Let me see...she went to Cornell Hospital.
MOM: Do you know if she's been admitted or still in the emergency room or what?
OW #2: I believe the emergency room

Now, imagine that last line being repeated by another person at the same time who has no idea what they're saying. It's like your friend is speaking Spanish, trying to help someone out. But you don't know too much Spanish. But to make it seem like you're helping that someone out, you try to say everything your friend is saying at the same time. Think of it like an echo that occasionally gets it wrong.

With the help of a security guard, we were able to make it over to the ER on 68th St in relatively fast time. Thanks for your help, old ladies. You're useless. Sit down and watch another pathetic musician come in for a sing-along.

Let's see what other shitty things have happened lately...Friday saw the arrival of SIX (6) men into the somewhat small 2 bedroom apartment I share with my best bud, Geoff and his girlfriend Ashley. They stayed just for two nights and they were cool to hang with. But I swear to god, our living room smelled like what I would imagine a maggot infested asshole of a dead homeless man would smell like. These kids are in a band and for whatever reason, being in a band means you have to smell like shit.

I did a walk for a charity called Farm Sanctuary (an animal rights group) that campaigns for more humane practices on farms and slaughterhouses across America. It's a great cause but I had to walk for 45 minutes, not protesting, just holding a sign with a cow on it, and all the while, I had SIBS the entire time. What is SIBS, you say? Sweaty Itchy Butt Syndrome. It's awful. And then after the walk, we got Vegan Lunches. It was, underwhelming to say the least. I thought the savior of the meal might be the fake Slim Jim. Although it tried to be "meat", it tasted more like a bandaid dipped in prune juice. Oh, and my Fantasy Football team lost by 60 points. I'm a loser in my own fantasy.