My Odd Sock

Sit back & listen

It’s time for a little listening fun!

Here is a parody commercial for a new product from the makers of Secret.

Written by My Odd Sock and produced by the incredible Tony Gialluca Productions, click on the title at the end of this sentence to hear an mp3 audio piece for Seacret Anti Perspirant

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This space is usually reserved for something funny, witty, compelling or as in this case….none of the above.

Sorry to disappoint, but I am about to watch Forrest Gump for the millionth time.  What a great movie!

I got no hands!

I took the plunge.

Like many of you with multiple sclerosis, I joined the rank & file and am now taking Ampyra (am-PEER-ah).

Ampyra is the hot, new MS drug on the market aimed at improving walking speed for those of us slipping lower on the evolutionary scale.

All together now, in your best Casey Kasem voice…..”And now a long distance dedication to a lowly foot-dragger in Ohio.”

Ampyra works by “fast-tracking” the conversation between your brain and your legs.  Kinda like the fast talking guy from the old FedEx TV commercials.

It has improved the walking speed in 30 to 35% of MSers who have tried it.  Granted that’s not a great success rate, but when I have to use a calendar instead of a stopwatch to measure my walking speed I’ll give it a whirl!  (You gotta figure Keith Richards has taken worse, right?)

Ampyra, like all medications, has some possible side effects, mainly kidney or bladder infections.  But I thought a couple of the most common side effects were amusing…..”weakness” and “problems with balance.”

Duh, problems with balance is my middle name!  My balance can’t get any worse.  I’m like the “Anti-Weeble!”

Also, how ironic, one of Ampyra’s inactive ingredients is “hydropropyl methylcellulose.”  That is the SAME name we kicked around for our youngest child!

Former Desenex foot model.

Seriously, the cool thing about Ampyra, according to my doc, is you’ll know if it works right away.  And if it doesn’t–well, stop taking it.  That was my biggest beef about MS’s “ABC” drugs, I just didn’t know what they were doing.

It’s only been a few days for me—too early to make a call yet.  But I’ll keep you posted.

Have you tried Ampyra?  I would love to hear what it did for you.

I’m not advocating anything.  Remember, My Odd Sock is an expert on nothing, just an idiot on everything.  Consult with your doctor to see if Ampyra is right for you.

And so it goes, putting one foot in front of the other.

Here’s hoping mine (and yours) move just a little bit faster!

The following is a vintage My Odd Sock.  I hope you enjoy it once again.

I just received, quite possibly, the worst gift ever.

Now, don’t get me wrong and think I’m an ungrateful S.O.B.

Because I truly appreciate the thought of the gift giver.  And I showered that person with many gratuitous “Oh, you shouldn’t haves.”

But giving a gift card from Pier One Imports to a middle aged man is like giving pork to a Rabbi!

Yes, I am now the proud owner of a $50 dollar gift card from Pier One Imports!

I can hardly wait to begin my shopping spree!

Let me say up front, Pier One Imports is a fine retail establishment.  An upstanding corporate entity with a strong, solid foundation built upon……..wicker!

A Pier One gift card would be a terrific gift idea if I was say……a cabana boy.  Or a burnt out devotee of Jimmy Buffett.

But just how many melon-ballers does one need?

Last time I was in Pier One Imports, I lost my mind while browsing the macrame parrot aisle!

Now I have fifty dollars to spend.  I figure I could buy everything in the store and still have enough leftover for an ice cream cone.  Fifty bucks is probably more than the Gross National Product of the countries that produce that crap!

I’m wastin-away again in Bamboo-ville!

I should really keep an open mind and give my local Pier One Import store a visit.  I’m sure I’ll find something I just can’t live without.

Maybe a wicker casket?

Yes, they make them.

I think I’ll crawl inside because with this My Odd Sock I’m dying with sarcasm.

Happy shopping!

This is Maggie, a three-year old Cockapoo rescued from the shelter by my mother.

Weighing just 11 pounds, Maggie is little pooch who gives my Mom big attention.

Maggie is very social, rarely barks and only on occasion will do her business on the floor.  Otherwise, she is the perfect companion!

Hey wait, I thought this was about MS!  Where’s the MS connection?  If I want a dog story, I’ll watch “Animal Planet!”  Now get to the MS, you Lassie-lover!

Pardon me.  The MS.  Yes, of course.

My most visible MS condition…..is foot drop.  I’ve always thought it should be called “foot-drag,” because that is how I walk.  Step…drag.  Step…drag.  Step…drag.  (It’s pretty obvious when I’m in the vicinity of the beach or there is snow on the ground as I leave a distinctive trail!)

It was a usual overnight visit at my Mom’s house…dinner, hanging out, talking and watching TV.

I excused myself and went upstairs to bed around midnight.

Nature called several hours later (I’m a middle-aged man, my bladder is the size of a dixie cup).  I rolled out of bed and did my usual step-drag across the hall to the powder room.

The accused.

Half way there I dragged my right foot into a wet spot.  “Oops, Maggie?” I wondered.

I pulled my foot back and felt around with my hand.  Nothing.  I chalked it up to a weird MS sensation and continued my “step-drag” into the bathroom and then back to bed.

The hours that followed were a restless slumber of tossing, turning & flopping.

In the morning I arose, walked into the hallway and froze….shocked by what I saw before me.  The sight made the Sharon Tate murder scene look tame.

It was fecal carnage.

Brown streaks were sloppily smeared into the light colored carpeting like a Jackson Pollock painting.

All the way into the bathroom, and all the way back into my bedroom.

Upon further “CSI” investigation, I found a turd bit just inside the doorway of the adjacent bedroom.

Piecing together the crime scene, I speculate the events happened as follow…

 

“I stepped in the sh&%.  Upon feeling the wetness, I pulled my foot back and felt the carpeting with my hand.  I felt nothing because the doggie-dung had fastly cemented itself to my instep.  Then, because I must throw my right foot forward to step, I used “kung-poo power” to kick a turd into the next room.”

 

But it was a small bit.  Where might the rest of Maggie’s dung be?

You wouldn’t think?

I step-dragged back into my bedroom.

I took a deep breath to collect myself.  Throwing back the sheets, I thought only of the horse-head scene from “The Godfather.”

There, between my bedsheets was the remainder of Maggie’s product.

My God, it looked like a rohrshock test.  I’ve seen cleaner baby diapers.  The sleep number of this bed was definately number two!  How could this tiny, 11 pound Cockapoo inflict such “Cujo” like damage?

So it goes.  Life with MS adds character to everyday situations.  To be sure, it’s tale wagging fun!

It started with one.

For me, the first one was a stroke of genius!  What a novel idea….and a convenient way for me to accumulate and build a valuable cache of bonus-reward-perk-advantage points!

Then I got a second.  Then a third.  And a fourth.  Fifth.  Sixth. 

I’m up to a dozen now and still counting!

I’m talking about those little plastic shopping tags that retailers now beg me to dangle from my keychain.

My Odd Sock's ridiculous keyring

Do I need a tag from EVERY single store I frequent?

I have them from gas stations, grocery stores, sporting goods stores, card shops, auto parts stores, even a major university!

They each have catchy names like “savings passport,” “advantage card,” “bonus card,” and “plus shopper’s card.”

Some stores like to include the word “reward” within the name of their tag.  I have “speedy rewards,” “reward zone,” crown rewards,” and “auto zone rewards.”  (I’m still waiting for my “rewards” to arrive!)

I even have tags called “score card” and “wild card.”  (I keep those two together for crazy weekends…and no, they are NOT from a gentleman’s club.)

Shop & save moron!

My keyring consists of four keys, one of which I have no idea what it’s for…..and twelve shopping tags.

I swear these tags have multiplied like rabbits.  They outgrow the weeds in my flowerbeds!

I look like a shop-a-holic janitor.

I don’t know why I carry these things around, or use them…I’m still waiting for the advantageous rewards I’ve earned.

Honestly, the best perk of these tags on my keyring is having so many handy-dandy toothpicks at my fingertips!

Looks like Shark Week!

Fast-food burger stuck between your teeth?  No problem when you have an “advantage card!”

Maybe THAT’S my reward!

Shopping tags were a great marketing idea in the day.  But that sale was over long ago.

How do you deal with this daunting problem?

Shop well my friend.

Me. Not actual size.

Summer is here in all its glory.  And like you, I’m stuck inside, chomping at the bit to get out to enjoy summer’s splendor.  The Heatmeister’s “hot & humid” conditions make it impossible for those of us with multiple sclerosis to “doe-see-doe” outside the confines of our air conditioners.  (We can relate to the Bubble-boy in a way.)

I know I’m preaching to the choir here as much of the country has suffered with extreme temps this summer.

I can handle winter’s chill. but when the mercury is pushing the top of the thermometer, I begin to melt like Frosty the Snowman.

Let’s just say I move in sssllllooooww mmmoottiiiooonn.  (Not that I was breaking any land speed records before!)

That's how I feel!

My legs feel like they weight a ton.  I’m walking in a viscous world of wallpaper paste.

My feet lumber along as though I’m wearing a pair of the Mafia’s cement shoes.  I must be walking on a sidewalk made of rodent glue traps.  Godzilla trudged through Japanese cities with greater freedom of movement.

And my legs and feet aren’t the only extremities that dread summer’s “h & h.”

Gloves & wrist weights.

My hands go on an extended coffee break in the heat.

All 10 digits look at me with disgust and say “You want US to do WHAT?”

Good thing I’m not a surgeon as I struggle with a knife & fork.

I can’t even pick my nose with some semblance of dexterity!

My Odd Sock taking a break from the heat.

Sometimes the very best I can do is collapse in front of a register………and chill (Bad pun).

My only solution is venturing outside when the sun goes down.  Yeah, I’m like a gimpy wolfman (Hairy like one anyway).

Problem is, at night, when you move slower than a glacieral land mass, the skeeters pounce on you quicker than one of Michael Vick’s Rottweilers.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining as things could be worse.  I just wanted to let off a little steam (Sorry, I couldn’t resist) about how the heat affects my MS.

How do you cope with the summer’s “hot & bother?”

Wipe the sweat from your brow  and share your story with the rest of the class.

Otherwise, stay cool and enjoy every waking moment as it’s getting hot in here.