Friday, July 30, 2010
Forget that this was my first smart phone with a touch screen. I was iPhone tech-savvy from the get-go.
Or so I thought.
When my teen son came over to my house, he had a field day with my new iPhone 4. He downloaded games, downloaded apps, rearranged icons, set up a passcode, synced it with my laptop, and loaded my iPhone up with songs – 344, to be exact!
Ok, so my teen son is the iPhone expert. What can I say? He has an iPod touch, and all his friends have mobile gaming devices. They’ve been swapping tips and tricks for Apple products during school lunches for years.
When my teen daughter came over to my house, she went even deeper into the device. She had just returned from Europe where she visited a friend, and she wanted her friend to know she’d gotten back to California safely.
“Are you calling her?” I asked.
“No, she’s still sleeping,” my daughter said. “They’re nine hours ahead.”
“Sending her a text?”
“No, I’m writing to her on Facebook.”
Okay, call me a dinosaur. I barely log into Facebook from my laptop. But from my iPhone? My teen daughter is a mega-expert in my eyes.
The three of us were driving to dinner, for our first meal together since both of them got back from vacation. My son took my iPhone and downloaded yet another game. It was some maze thing where he had to move the iPhone side to side to work some ball from level to level. The damn thing was beeping like CRAZY!!!!
“See that switch on the side?” I asked. “Flip it down.”
Both kids went into meltdown overdrive. “No, that locks the screen!” “No, that will cut the game short.” “No, you don’t know anything about this phone.”
“It’s a mute switch,” I said. “Flip it.”
My son hesitated – after all, I’m an iPhone neophyte. He and his sister are the experts. What the hell did I know? I hadn’t even downloaded apps or loaded music or used Facebook on the iPhone by myself.
“Flip it,” I said.
He flipped it. The screen didn’t lock. The game didn’t quit. The annoying beeps STOPPED.
“Wow,” my son said. “You know something about the iPhone that I didn’t know.”
“Of course I do,” I said. “I’m an iPhone expert.”
“No, you’re not. Tell me something else I don’t know.”
“I will when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now!”
All in good time, Son. All in good time.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
"Delightfully Tacky" - That's how Hooters advertises their establishment and they live up to it.
Hooters was started by six Florida businessmen who thought, "Hey... lets have a restaurant where hot chicks bring out sub par food while dressed in high-waisted booty shorts and tight tank-tops! We'll call it 'Hooters' and we'll have an owl with great big eyes like he just saw a big pair of hooters himself! Hey... his eyes can even be the two 'O's' in 'Hooters'! Is anyone writing this down!"
I wish I had thought of the idea honestly. I mean, you automatically tap into 50% of the human population with every straight, red-blooded American male (or drooling cavemen) as potential spenders despite whether or not your food is even good (or in my case... gives you the ever-lovin' runs the moment I walk in the front door of my house)!
Let's not kid ourselves here... no one goes to Hooters for the food. HONESTLY! SERIOUSLY! C'MON DON'T LIE TO ME! Guys go to Hooters in hope that they'll get the one waitress that has to put in her five hours of work a week to be able to compete in the Hooters International Swimsuit Pageant.
I fit into that demographic. I'm straight, I'm red-blooded, I'm American, I'm male and, if you've read my blog (Hands To War) for any length of time at all, you know I love huge tracks of land (Monty Python reference... anyone... anyone). I don't frequent a Hooters but I'd be lying if I said I'd never set foot in one. Only on special occasions have I ever gone to a Hooters i.e. fraternity outings (in college), bachelor parties, guys night out, bat mitzvahs, etc. Never have I turned to Bunny and said, "You wanna go eat at Hooters tonight? I'm really craving some wings." You know why I would never ask her that? Because she knows I'm not going to eat their food! C'MON!!! SERIOUSLY!!!
Hooters taps into the most blatantly obvious visual stimulation to sell food and people don't care that they're being led like lambs to a slaughter.
"Hey you... you want to eat these chicken wings that are guaranteed to give you the runs later?"
"No! Are you crazy?"
"How about a perky young college student with big hoo-hoo's and booty shorts serves 'em up to you? Would you mind getting the runs then?"
"Hmmm... do you have any artery clogging, high-fat ranch I could dip those wings into?"
"Hi there cutie! I hear you wanted the runs?"
Hooters uses boobs to sell food! They're not well-known for their food! "Man... that Hooters has some GREAT food!" is not something you're ever going to hear!
For some reason, my oldest sister has a turned somewhat of a blind eye to what's really behind Hooters "marketing strategy". My 17-year-old niece is in town for the summer because she's gotten her first paying acting gig with a local theater group (Go Daisy! Remember... I'll be your bodyguard when you're famous) and I called my sister up tonight to see if they'd like to pick out a place to eat with Bunny, DLG and I.
"We wanna go to Hooters!" was her response.
"Uh... I don't really feel comfortable taking my two-year-old daughter to Hooters!" I said.
"Oh... we went there last week. It's not that bad! Little girls in their Easter dresses were there along with some families and older couples. It's more of a family establishment!!" was her rebuttal.
I have to admit, I was a little taken aback. I guess I remember there being kids in the Hooters restaurants I went to... but I always thought it was weird. Somewhere in the deep inner recesses of my mind I always knew I definitely wasn't going to take my daughter to a place where the main purpose is to look at hot chicks!
Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against Hooters other than it's blatant, "in your face" tactics at selling chicken wings. Hell... Bunny even considered working at Hooters years ago when we were just dating as a way to make ends meet. They've got no qualms in advertising what's really so awesome about Hooters... they might have well just called it "Boobies"... then you still could have used to huge eyes for the two "O's" in "Boobies".
Quite simply, Hooters leaves less to the imagination than Olive Garden and that's why dudes like it. I don't want to and WILL NOT expose my daughter to that... it'll undoubtedly get shoved in her face eventually no matter how much I try to protect her from it. In the meantime I'll do my best to keep her from it.
Would you take your two-year-old daughter to Hooters? Would you take your kid to Hooters? Would you go to Hooters? Have you been to Hooters? Do you like Hooters (the restaurant AND the body part)? Let's see... tell me anything ANYTHING...
Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The reason I’ve been thinking about midwives is my wife and I were talking about what we would do if we had another baby. It’s a big if because we have 5 now. We figured out what was causing it and put a stop to it. Turns out you can make a kid in 15 minutes with objects you find around the house.
So we saying if we had another one, would we want a midwife to do it. No. No we do not.
I don’t really understand midwifery, which is why I can ridicule it, but I’m not really sure why you would choose it. On one hand you have the doctor at the hospital with the years of medical training and all the emergency equipment in case something goes wrong. Or you could deliver on your kitchen table aided by an elderly woman who smells of cat. Plus there’s the added bonus of having no drugs!
I believe midwifery is the only profession that a man is barred from participating in, and no one seems to mind. There are no civil cases or constitutional challenges to the discrimination of men as midwives.
"Hi, I’m Bob. I’ll be your midwife tonight. Don’t worry, I washed my hands after I used your can. Anyone want a beer?”
Thursday, July 22, 2010
1. Your child has a sudden change in appearance, friends and activities.
2. You are unfamiliar with the language your child speaks (texts).
3. Bottles disappear from the medicine cabinet faster than they should.
4. Another family member has an addiction problem.
5. Your gut says something is wrong.
Considering Lindsey's case, you might also want to be aware of the following:
Friday, July 16, 2010
This is something I’ve been struggling a lot with lately. While I do believe I am probably one of the hotter dads in the universe… I’m a little sketchy on if I am The Hottest Dad Alive.
Let’s explore the possibility shall we?
Some things that may inhibit me from being The Hottest Dad Alive (THDA) are the fact that I don’t have a six-pack, I’m not a model (yet), I can’t ride a lion without a saddle, I haven’t quite yet perfected the worm and I laugh every time I fart. I am currently in the process of amending these things to try and solidify my case for THDA.
While those things are working against me… there are many more things that are working for me: I can bounce my pecs to the beat of any song, I have a sweet ass that will hypnotize you if you walk behind me, you can get lost in my eyes, I can sneeze while keeping my eyes open at the same time, I have 17 well placed tattoos, I can make stimulating conversation, I exude love and compassion, I can’t go a day without putting on deodorant and I always put down the toilet seat.
While most of the more prominent fathers in the world think they are quite assuredly THDA by making headlines in the pages of the New York Times, People Magazine, Us Magazine or Playgirl Magazine… I quietly take my place among the sea of normal fathers and build my army of followers who believe that I am indeed… more than likely… The Hottest Dad Alive.
Let me see if I can prove it to you and myself with a random cross section of the world of dads as we know it:
Papa K VS. Brad Pitt
This is no contest really. While Mr. Pitt may have me beat in the amount of money he makes, numbers of countries he’s been to, movie stars he’s dated and kids he’s adopted I decidedly crush him in a number of areas:
- my wife is hotter… Jolie looks like she’s hanging on a coat hanger
- He’s never made a good movie
- I’m not an asshole
- I’m pretty sure I could defeat him in a cage match… if they allowed us to have weapons
Papa K VS. That Twilight Freak
Okay… so he’s not a dad yet… but there are plenty of Twilight obsessed chicks who'd want to have his baby... so it's only a matter of time. I crush him in these areas:
- Unbelievably… I’m more tan
- He’s not really a vampire… neither am I but that’s not the point
- It appears to me he is actually an ugly woman
- He's like 150 years old and he's still into high school girls... that's creepy
Papa K VS. Jon Gosselin
This one’s going to be easy:
- I’m not a douchebag who thinks wearing Ed Hardy clothes make me cool
- I didn’t marry a lesbian
- I didn’t wh0re my children (child in my case) to make a million bucks
- I’m not followed by paparazzi all day with nothing better to do than follow my pathetic life
Papa K VS. Male Praying Mantis
- My wife did not consume me after we consummated our relationship
- My eyeballs are positioned on the front of my face and not the sides
- I am decidedly bigger and much more attractive
- I can be camouflage if I want... but decide to not be most of the time
So... with these random examples I have hands down completely obliterated the competition.
I am officially 100% hotter than these examples!
I think this proves my theory and solidifies my place as The Hottest Dad Alive. We could do this all day but just to save everyone time and money... I officially appoint myself as such. I expect to be addressed as "Hottest Dad Alive" in all future correspondence. Thank you.
Also... I've just found out I've been named "Most Humble Dad Alive".
Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I can see the sun rising and clouds drifting above us all
I see kids running around the house and yard
I see everyone, going about their business
Without removing the pillow from my ears
I hear the surf lapping at the shoreline
I can hear the dogs eagerly crunching their morning kibble
I hear the neighborhood come alive
Without shaking off my blanket
I can feel the warm touch of my beautiful woman
I feel goose bumps from the houseful of loving family surrounding me
I feel the heat of the coming day, from the bright sun above
I love the fact that, just awaking or not, I can experience all of these joys of life..any time I want…just by closing my eyes and clearing my mind.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
They loved it.
We rented high-end road bikes from the Stanford bike shop. I showed my daughter how much my credit card would be charged if, for some reason, her bike didn’t make it back to the shop: $2,200. Yeah, it was a nice bike. Ultra-light titanium frame, racing wheels, Shimano gears. My son’s bike was nearly as nice, and just as fast.
We piled the rental bikes along with my Bianchi into the back of my daughter’s truck, then drove to the town of Woodside. We did a few mile warm-up on our way to the Santa Cruz mountains, then climbed Old La Honda road up to Alice’s restaurant.
The Old La Honda climb is tough. It gets very steep in some places. I can do the climb in around 30 minutes. I’ve seen amateur racers do it in 19. I figure Lance Armstrong and crew can shoot up it in 15. My kids and I did it in 45 - it was tough! (Hats off to my children for making it. Can we get one of the Tour podium girls to award a jersey, or something?)
Partway up, both of my kids were complaining about the difficulty of the climb. My reaction? I laughed my ass off. (They’ve given me so much grief over the years for not having perfectly flat abs, this was my payback.)
I also gave them climbing tips: sit back on the seat, lift with the knees (they had pedal clips), pull back on the handlebars to provide tension, keep the gear low and the cadence high.
Lunch at Alice’s was great – 1/3 pound burgers and chili fries, all around. (And no embarrassing hottie cyclist pickup attempt.)
We continued our ride to Kings Mountain Road. The climb from Alice's wasn’t as steep as Old La Honda, but it went on forever. All three of us were tired, especially with lunch in our bellies. But once we got there, we were in heaven – we descended for probably 15 minutes, passing through a canopy of Redwoods and Pines all the way down into Woodside.
Of course, I schooled my kids on the safe way to descend: weight on your pedals, not your seat or arms. If your turning left, put the right pedal down, and lean into the turn. Hold your hands in the horns of the handlebars so they can’t slip off.
After ice cream bars at Roberts Market, we pedaled a final quarter mile back to the truck. All in all, it was a twenty mile loop.
And already my kids are asking – when can we do it again?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Well I thought I'd tell y'all about a little incident that went on at the house a few weeks ago. See my kids Baby G (11) daughter and Rowdy (7) son have a plethora of chores that will be completed daily or when applicable. Their chores are as follows.
Sort all washed clothes, separating into Mine, Mamma Sages, Rowdy's and her own.
Folding/hanging hers and putting them away.
Folding and putting away all towels.
Loading and unloading the dish washer.
Cleaning her room.
Separating her clothes pre wash.
Setting the table for meals.
Folding wash cloths
Cleaning his room.
Cleaning their bathroom.
Cleaning the 1/2 bathroom.
Folding/hanging putting away his own clothes.
Clearing the table post meal.
What don't look at me like that he's 7 and shes 11. I ain't raising democrats here, you earn it or you don't get it, meals, electricity etc, nothing here is free.
So anyway Baby G threw down one night and this isn't way out of line, it happens about once every couple months
"This isn't fair"
"Rowdy doesn't have as much to me!"
and on and on.
Now one thing I need to explain is we don't pay for chores, those are due us for food and shelter, clothes and such. I do pay for tasks done outside that. I mean come on they don't have to work watermelons or hay like I did from 10 up and so they can do some stuff around here, even though working didn't get me out of chores at the house.
So the girl child threw down in the floor. Snot bubbles. Hollering. She might have expelled some gas I am not quite sure cause the dog was in there also but she was in the fecal position one time. She spun on the floor like a break dancer. She arched her back and blew an additional snot bubble. It was ugly you know. She stiffened her whole body standing straight up, fists clenched, on her tip toes, squallin. Y'all getting the picture?
Well anyway so the bride runs to their defense when I am asking them sweetly to actually do their chores and I have a three way "thats not fair" fest! Baby G made a terrible miscalculation though. She popped off and said "NONE OF MY FRIENDS (snot bubble bursting) HAVE ANY CHORES !!!!!! (stiff body, on tiptoes, fists clenched, squallin loudly) She's meaner than hell like her momma and did not get my sweet temperament and understanding demeanor.
So Big Pappi formulated a perfect plan, as all of Big Pappi's plans are. I asked Momma Sage how many of Baby G's friends she had on Facebook. "All of them" was the reply. So I had Momma Sage post on Facebook, "Baby G thinks none of her friends have chores, or at least not like she has, what chores, if any do your kids have to do?"
Well it was about 9 minutes and her stuff was blowin up! The most memorable comment, nestled snugly amongst the 45 or so that came in in the first couple hours, was one from Mamma Sages long time best friend, with kids the same age they were both bred at the same time with both kids. She said:
"Baby G, Baby G, Baby G, Honey what have you done? When will you children learn? If you will just listen to your daddy you won't have to go through all of this turmoil. I promise you baby if you would just do it right when you are told you would be finished in less time than the argument usually lasts. I know your daddy and has pitching a fit ever gotten you out of anything with him? Good luck baby the comments don't look that good for you right now."
Well of course all the kids had chores and about half of the kids had either more chores or tougher chores and none had markedly less chores (we don't know any Socialists). So Mamma printed off the chores of her friend's kids and Baby G read them aloud for the family. Then she re-read them for the in laws Sunday at dinner (12 noon for you uneducated people).
So I found one good use for Facebook, what do y'all do when the snot bubbles fly? Have you ever used any of the silly assed friend sites for something other than mindless babble? Tell me!
Oh yeah you can thank me now for the snot bubble, squallin, fecal position gettin in stopper I just gave you!
Should be something good in Sageville today too.
Monday, July 5, 2010
In a desperate effort to make their kids “unique”, parents are pulling out all the stops when it comes to naming their children.
In a certain sense, I kind of understand it. My wife and I named our daughter a fairly uncommon name… but not one I would classify as “weird” per se.
There are three types of ways to name your children, I’ll list them from least annoying to so freakin' annoying that it makes me want to rip off my buttocks. Let’s visit these naming faux pas shall we?
1. Slightly changing the spelling of the name
You run into this quite often. I have a friend who named their daughter “Kortney”. And as I just wrote her name right now the spell check on my computer marked her name with a red squiggly line below it indicating that I spelled it wrong. I would have spelled it “Courtney” personally… but they wanted it with a “K” and that’s cool.
The only problem with this is that the wide majority of people are going to spell it wrong when sending you mail, entering you into wet t-shirt contests and filling out your application for parole. This is probably annoying for the person with the name because they constantly have to correct the person spelling their name or just deal with the fact that their name is just going to be misspelled half the time.
But… it’s all in who’s doing the spelling of the name too. My first name is subject to interpretation on how to spell it. “Chris” can be spelled any number of ways: Cris, Kris, Khris or even Chriss. I’ll get any number of these spellings when people transcribe my name when I think that C-H-R-I-S is probably the most common way to spell my name.
So, while a slight changing of the typical spelling of a name is a little annoying, it’s not something to lose your bladder over.
2. Naming Them A Name Never Before Heard In The Annals Of Time
What will Gwyneth's next kids name be? Peach Pit? Raisen? Prune?
Gwyneth Paltrow named her kid “Apple”. I’ve heard of other names like “Cloud”, “Rainbow”, “Fruitstand”, “Bird”, “Moon”, “Camera” and “Dweezil”. What the Mother Eff? I understand a kid should be given their own individuality but why give them a name that people are going to laugh at then roll their eyes and instantly understand that their parents were either famous movie stars, hippies, gangsters or named their kid somewhere around 4:20 in the afternoon.
You could even take it a step further and name your kids “Adolf Hitler” and “Arian Nation” like this super-douche.
Awwww... Hi there Adolf Hitler... what a cute name! How did your raging douchebag father come up with that one?
To be fair… if God had given us a little boy and not a girl… I really wanted to name him “Ca$h”. Literally with the “$” instead of the “s”. But this post isn’t about me…
3. Absolutely, Completely And Totally Effing Up The Proper Spelling Of The Name Just So It Will Confuse People
I have the dubious distinction at my work of having to call and confirm about 350 consultants and their addresses for our annual Christmas mailings. Part of this responsibility is making sure there isn’t anyone left off of our mailing list. A recent conversation with the receptionists at one of these businesses went something like this:
“Hi, my name is Chris with I Just Blew Out My Anus AV Company (yes… that is not the name of the company I work for) and I’m just calling around to confirm some names on our Christmas mailing list before we send all of them out. I just want to make sure the names we have are people who still work there. Can I run through them with you real quick?” I said.
She obliged and I ran through my short list of names I had for their company.
After I’m done with that I have to say, “Now… is there anyone that I didn’t name that should get our mailing?”
She replied, “Yes, you forgot Karen Taylor”.
My idiot mind just assumed that it was spelled as I just spelled it above. I assured the receptionist I would add Karen and started my graceful exit from the phone call. Before I could get through the end of my spiel she interrupted me and said, “Don’t you want to know how to spell her name?”
“What, ‘Taylor’?” I said.
I spelled it out, “K-A-R-E-N?”
“No actually it’s spelled K-A-A-R-I-N”.
I had to repeat the spelling back to her several times just to make sure I got it right. “Kaarin” is how she spelled “Karen”. I held back my frustration at Kaarin’s parents until I got off the phone then I made a vow to find them someday and ask them, “why”… right before I slapped them across the face with armadillo roadkill. Why would you purposefully misspell your kids name? Unlike “Chris” that can be spelled “Cris”, “Kris”, or at worst Khris… there aren’t really many other routes to go with “Karen” unless you go off the deep end with “Kaarin” or maybe “Care-In” or “Cuhairen”. Kaarin is forever destined to have to misinform people on the correct spelling of her name which should be “Karen”.
That’s not being unique or different… that’s just being annoying to everyone involved.
So… if you’re thinking of naming your kid “Sttepfanny” instead of “Stephanie”, “Fillup” instead of “Phillip”, “Cayteah” instead of “Katie”, “Jellybean Ass Face” instead of “Eddie” or “Crapinajar” instead of “Bill”… please don’t. Please don’t because the only person that thinks it’s cool is you.
Come visit me at my home: Hands To War.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Well I hope everyone out there has/had a great Independence Day and just a big ole time with your family.
I also hope all the hot dads and even the not so hot dads alike take a few minutes to tell their brood about the meaning of Independence day and don't let them believe that it is about hot dogs and fireworks.
Like one time back 200+ years ago some guys got tired of a tyrannical government and they decided they that all men were created equal and they would be nobodies bitch. So they got together and decided being dead would be better than not being free. So they wrote this document right here. The Declaration Of Independence. If you haven't read that in a while you should.
They worked out to everyone's liking and then they voted on it and it became a unanimous declaration to the king that they wanted freedom and did not want to be dependent on them or ANY government for much of anything.
Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton
John Hancock, Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry
Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery
Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott
William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris
Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark
Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross
Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean
Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton
George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton
William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn
Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton
Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton
Those guys signed it. They knew full well, as did everyone who took up arms against the government that they would hang if they didn't win. They decided it would be worth it. It would be worth dying to give their kids and their grand kids and the world a free society. So many did fight and many of them died. Those that lived went on to establish the United States of America. A place that until recently people were pretty much free to live their own lives. Make their own decisions, earn their own way and earn their own keep. Be the master of their own destiny. No matter how or to whom they were born, they could grow up to be whatever they wanted. These people fought and died to have borders to protect, sovereignty to keep and freedom for all.
Yeah it isn't about hot dogs and baseball. It is about what a nearly perfect republic they created and how many people have fought and died to preserve it, and how some people today don't respect what those did and some died for to vote to protect it. Teach your kids so they never have to be in a situation where daily their rights are trampled and their freedom gradually slips away. They were stronger as a people then, they knew what not having freedom was. They would have never voted it away. They would have never stood by and allowed what is happening now. When you step into a voting booth you should really wonder "Does this person I am going to cast my vote for see it the way Ben Franklin saw it?" Would you die to be free, would you vote to be free?
And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
Have a great Independence Day.
Go see what the Real World has going on!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
My brother got his nuts detached finally. When he first went to the doctor, they found a lump and had to do some further tests to disprove cancer. Then his insurance company….get this, his insurance company denied coverage for a vasectomy because they considered it to be a pre-existing condition. I’ll let you take a moment to digest that one.
So let’s see here. A vasectomy is where one gets their flow of sperm cut off from their testicle to their urethra. So, which is it? Is having nuts, or having a urethra the pre-existing condition? I suppose they both are pre-existing, if you consider having them a condition.
“Yeah man, I’m not feeling to good today.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that.”
“Well I’ve got this condition…”
“What sort of condition?”
“Nuts. I’ve got nuts, man.”
“Oooh, don’t get too close, I don’t want to catch your nuts.”
I really have no adequate words to describe the idiocy of the insurance company. Really what could one possibly say about that? So, do we need insurance reform? Yeeeeees. Do we need Obamas insurance reform, nooooooo. But reform, yes we need it. How do you say that having balls is a pre-existing condition!
So my brother had to call the insurance company himself, as well as get the doctor to send in a letter, to knock it in their dumb bureaucratic heads, that having a sack is not a pre-existing condition. They ended up covering the vasectomy, naturally.
I bet they have a standardized letter they send out every time a procedure request is sent in. Just deny coverage for everything, that’s our the policy. Who cares, make some shit up, call it pre-existing, or out of the coverage plan, just deny it! Then, when the patient complains, they say, oops sorry, we mailed you the wrong letter, you’re covered. They bank on the fact that we are idiots, and we’ll fold under their strong arm. No! If I want to get my dam nuts detached, then you’re going to pay for it, damnit.