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More Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

December 16, 2012/3 Comments/in great gifts /by kathcom

It’s that time of year again. Are you wondering what to get for your loved ones to show you really care? Avoid the Walmart scrum and spread Christmas cheer this season with Magick Sandwich’s sure-to-please holiday gift list!

First, for the friend whose dog makes sweet love to your pant leg as soon as you step in the door, we recommend Hot Doll, the first sex toy for dogs. Its legs boast a “no slide” system and its cone is made from “the same materials used by veterinarians.”

Yes, the cone is exactly what you think it is and yes, it makes your vet sound kinky. It’s also washable, which will make picking up dog poop a joy by comparison. Stylish in black or white, this puppy will set you back 159 euros plus shipping. Did I mention it’s made in France? Of course, it is.

For the aunt who wears leggings because they’re “slimming” and who hasn’t seen south of her own border in umpteen pounds, we suggest the Cuchini Camel Toe Solution. It fits inside her drawers to shore up her sagging nethers. Her inseam will thank you.

If you’d like to see the before and after photos, you’ll have to visit the site. Showing a doggy
sex toy is one thing, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Standards must be maintained. A bacon merkin, on the other hand? Good clean fun.

Distract the coworker who gets preachy about your lunch with What Would Jesus Eat?: The Ultimate Program for Eating Well, Feeling Great and Living Longer. (Spoiler alert: He’s not a fan of processed white bread but He does recommend non-fat cream cheese.)

Along with its companion cookbook, no doubt straight from the savior’s test kitchen, it’s the perfect gift for the believer who wonders, “Are these fishes sourced locally?”

Finally, give that special someone languishing on an organ donor list the gift of a life-sized plush organ from the folks at iheartguts.com.

Some of the organs available are the testicle, ovary, gallbladder, lung, prostate, and spleen. Maybe while Uncle Roy clutches this adorable, festively colored plush liver, he’ll think about taking better care of his next one. If he gets one. If not, you can always re-gift it to one of the other hopeless drunks in your family. Do they sell in bulk?

Well, that’s all for now. Click here for more gift ideas. While you’re at it, see our advice on gifts for depressed and/or lonely friends, bacon lovers and drunkards. Remember: Don’t wait for their birthdays. They may be dead by then.™

More gift-giving know-how:
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition
Great Gifts for Depressed Friends!
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

Tales from the Waiting Room – Laughing at Cancer

July 1, 2012/6 Comments/in Breast cancer, Cancer, humor /by kathcom

First one mammogram, then another mammogram plus ultrasound, then biopsies. That’s how I spent the last two weeks of May. I got to know the radiology office better than I’d ever wanted to. On June 1st, I received my diagnosis of breast cancer. I needed an MRI to look for more tumors but couldn’t schedule it until my insurance company authorized it.

Once United Healthcare was sufficiently convinced that a malignancy justified further diagnostic testing, I had the MRI done on June 6th. Then I got a call that I needed a second MRI. The first had “lit up” as if there were multiple growths on both sides but they were pretty confident this was due to hormones, and the images would be “quieter” the following week. I hoped so since my mother had a bilateral mastectomy five years ago for multiple tumors.

On June 12th, I found myself once again in the same waiting room. As before it was nearly full of people, mostly women, in some stage of fear, worry or, worst of all, resignation. Some were drinking contrast dye from a cooler marked DO NOT DRINK. From their involuntary cries of disgust, I gleaned it might be the same barium I drank for a G.I. test 18 years ago. It tasted like moldy drywall. This begs the question: with all the advancements in technology, including the digitally assisted mammography that caught my cancer early, why can’t someone make a contrast solution that tastes better?

While I waited to have the test that would tell me if I had a little cancer or a lot, a news program playing on the wall-mounted TV caught my eye. Someone had shot a guy who was writing a book called Kindness in America. Was this a joke? The report continued: he was hitchhiking across the U.S. gathering stories for his memoir about the kindness of Americans when a drunk man in Montana rolled down the window of his truck and shot him. For no reason.

I cracked up. In my defense, the story also stated that the guy had only been hit in the arm and was okay. I reasoned that getting shot would help him get a book deal. He’d need to find a way to turn it into a positive experience. He had certainly cheered me up in a rather grim setting.

Update: It turns out that the guy shot himself to get publicity. Perhaps he was affording emergency room staff the opportunity to display kindness by treating him?

Back on planet Waiting Room, I hear my name called. The nurse recognizes me and helps me with the sticky safe lock in the changing room; the phlebotomist remembers which vein she stuck the needle in for the contrast-dye IV catheter (no taste, yay!); and the doctor remembers the classic rock radio station (104.3) I favor from last time.

I ask him if people freak out about MRIs because of the TV show House. He sighs. “All the time,” he says. He’d seen an episode once where green sparks were flying out and had to stop watching because it was so inaccurate. He says it’s too bad because he hears it’s a good show. I tell him the show’s over and people were always having seizures during MRIs, and someone vomited blood in almost every episode, so maybe he hasn’t missed much. He puts the headphones on me, and as the bed rolls me inside, the radio plays Pink Floyd’s Welcome to the Machine. Perfect.

Good News. Really.

June 16, 2012/9 Comments/in Breast cancer, Cancer, humor /by kathcom

A couple weeks ago, I got the news that, like one in eight women in America, I have breast cancer. Thanks to digital mammography and excellent doctors, I’m going to be fine. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.

Considering my posts about vaginas and fart filters, it’s strange that I find this difficult to discuss. Writing about a breast shouldn’t make me feel shy. In this case, though, I am the owner of the body part that’s gone on the fritz. I have a titanium clip in there, soon to be joined by a radioactive seed for precise tumor location. I’ve dubbed it Robo-boob.

I wasn’t going to address this at all since I write an allegedly humorous blog and this tends to be pretty dramatic stuff. But here goes. I’m going to have a lumpectomy on July 3rd. (Thieves be warned. My house is staffed with attack cats.) If the excision has clear margins, meaning the entire growth has been removed, I will begin radiation a month later.

I’m not very worried about the surgery. I’ll be having “twilight sleep”–the good stuff that Michael Jackson favored. I have been assured that, unlike Michael, I will continue breathing on my own. The idea of radiation is scarier to me. Luckily, it’s not the kind that will turn me into Godzilla, the Hulk or a giant spider. Phew.

Unfortunately, my insurance won’t cover a scooter. No handicapped parking either. I did get a binder from Mt. Sinai Hospital to keep track of appointments, post-op instructions etc. But I saw some women walking around with reusable grocery bags emblazoned with the pink ribbon on them, so I’m hoping for more swag. Gotta find a silver lining to this thing.

I know that prayer is a comfort to people and makes them feel less powerless. But when someone says, “I’m praying for you,” what I hear is, “You are so screwed that only a deity you don’t believe in can save you now.” As far as I’m concerned, everyone except my surgeon is helpless in this situation. There will no Tebowing in the OR, let’s put it that way–at least while I’m awake.

A proliferation of cancerous cells will not result in a conversion experience for me. That seems like a faulty basis on which to start (or stop) believing. So, while I love my Christian friends for caring, I respectfully ask them to understand it does not make me feel better to hear about it and to please keep it to themselves. Surely I can’t be the first person to feel this way?

I’d like to address a few popular sayings/beliefs trotted out regarding cancer.

Everything happens for a reason. Yes, the reason is cancer. Is it because I paid the gas bill late or didn’t send a Christmas card?

[She] is fighting a battle with cancer. My chest is not a war zone. I prefer to say I’m having a slap fight with cancer. Sounds less ominous and it’s a nice visual, too.

Here’s an email from Johns Hopkins about breast cancer. It’s a hoax that’s been circulating since 2008. The person who wrote this should be flogged.

This [alternative therapy] really works. Ever meet someone who cured cancer by drinking his own pee? Probably not. Want to talk to Steve Jobs about the miracle macrobiotic cure he did for months before agreeing to conventional treatment? Oh, that’s right, you can’t: he’s dead.

I should point out that I am not saying I’m an expert. Having cancer doesn’t make you an expert any more than having your driver’s license makes you a Formula One racer. But I don’t think I’m so unique that no one else has had these thoughts. Bullshit artists like Louise Hay have made a lot of money getting people to think they have all the answers, which brings me to my final thought for those who would easily pass judgment on someone like me:

Negativity causes cancer. If you believe that, why don’t you have cancer, too?

Christmas Gifting 101: A Visual Aid

December 22, 2011/4 Comments/in great gifts /by kathcom

You’re in that mad, last-minute scramble to find a present for that special someone. When it comes to gift-giving, a scarf is always a safe choice, right? Not always. Behold:

In your frenzy to get out of the store, don’t forget to pay attention to what you’re buying. Unless she wants to look like her nipples sucked a lemon or saw their own shadow and retreated for six more weeks of winter, put this back on the clearance pile. If she’s into that sort of thing, go ahead and get it. I’m sure Freud would have an opinion on this. But he’s dead and anyway, sometimes a scarf is just a scarf.

Last Minute Gifts – Wine Warning

December 21, 2011/2 Comments/in great gifts /by kathcom

Over here at Magick Sandwich, we’ve finished our Christmas shopping. Since we never stop spending on ourselves, the holidays are just a convenient cover story. Much like an alcoholic who rationalizes drinking on special occasions, for a shopper every day is a special occasion.

Speaking of addiction and Christmas, you might be thinking of giving the last-minute gift of a bottle of vino. After all, Jesus, guest of honor, turned water into wine. Since you can’t, you’ll need a credit card and a little help from FedEx.

With only four days till Christmas, you need to make haste. But take a moment to learn about the art of wine shipping. Did you know there are certain states that do not allow it? Montana, South Dakota, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania are a few.

The grape of wrath?

The “dry state” of Utah I can understand, although I’ve known quite a few Mormon drunkards, believe you me. But New Jersey? Why would it deny its citizens a bit of relief? Luckily, you can help fight this injustice at freethegrapes.org, a national grass roots coalition of wine lovers, wineries and retailers fighting the powerful wine wholesalers’ lobby. Those bastards!

Don’t get sidetracked by this cause, worthy though it may be. For now, you need to concentrate on your wino friends who live in one of the 39 states protected by direct shipping legislation. There are many distributors online, some of whom will package bottles nicely so as to remind your recipient of its heart-healthy benefits while de-emphasizing its cirrhotic effects on the liver.

When choosing your gift, don’t forget to read the fine print. I was perusing wine.woot.com this morning and saw a 2 pack of 2003 Keller Estate Sparkling Brut. How can you go wrong with a 2 pack? So classy and only $49.99. But then I saw this:

What? Am I supposed to call Glenn and tell him to stay sober all day so he can sign for the package? His inability to do so only proves that this is the perfect gift for him! What if Nancy’s been huffing paint? Will the FedEx guy be able to tell the difference between high and drunk? What qualifies him to judge? This is human-rights abuse, pure and simple.

Looks like it’s going to be another year of clean piss in Christmas mugs for my parolee friends and festively wrapped syringes for the junkies. Maybe you’re thinking I should get a better class of friends but it isn’t easy to find people happy to get cheap wine. When everything you drink has a screw top, you appreciate a good cork now and then.

More gift ideas:
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

Breaking: Manger Danger!

December 10, 2010/2 Comments/in satire /by kathcom

Pittstown, DE–Is your neighborhood nativity scene safe? Sadly, the answer was no for the Davis family, whose three-year-old daughter, Mensa, was injured last night when a faulty manger toppled onto the youngster.

“We were in the town square watching her throw rocks at squirrels,” her father read from a prepared statement at a press conference this morning. “It’s good for her hand-eye coordination. Then she started to climb up the manger wall. One moment her mother and I were laughing and clapping, the next, tragedy struck. It is unconscionable that the city did not properly anchor the manger to the ground. How could they do that to my little girl?”

Reached by phone, Mensa’s mother stated, “If she doesn’t come out of the coma soon, she’ll lose her spot at Branstone preschool. Her life will be ruined!” She added, “They’re going to pay for this!” before hanging up, overcome with emotion.

Savior Sold Industries, which manufactures the nativity scene, is expected to release a statement later today. This is not the first time the company has had a problem with a defective product. In 2007, it voluntarily recalled its Sweet Jesus Jumbo Tabletop Candy Crèche after a Pekingese choked to death on a piece of myrrh.

In related news, a Wise Man was attacked on December 6th in Baye Village, Ohio. DNA evidence is pending. Local registered sex offenders are being questioned. The manger’s owner, Jerry Smith, has removed the display from his lawn and says it will remain deflated until further notice.

Meanwhile, a church group in Iowa continues its efforts to make peeing on the baby Jesus a felony.

From World Cup to D Cup: Soccer the American Way

June 21, 2010/11 Comments/in humor /by kathcom

V Magazine describes itself as “…a magazine about fashion with a capital F and all the things that go with it: art, music, film, architecture…you name it.” Well, one of those F’s must stand for Football. You know, that other kind with the World Cup and those buzzy horns. It’s a sport that’s been just about to catch on in the U.S. for the past several decades. Yet unlike the metric system, soccer refuses to give up and go away.

In the rest of the world, footballers’ wives and girlfriends, or WAGS, are a subject of great interest. (I blame you, praying mantis queen Victoria Beckham.) V’s issue #66 pokes fun at the phenomenon with a photo spread that mocks the European tabloids. But there’s a twist. All the players and women are actually models. It seems that, like much of the country, V wasn’t interested in the real thing.

And did I mention there’s nudity? What’s more American than that? V may be a cutting-edge publication, but I’m guessing there will be more than one average Joe hunched over in a fancy bookstore, surreptitiously flipping the pages. Here’s my favorite:

She makes multitasking look so classy, doesn’t she? There’s no law against texting while you breastfeed yet, is there? If you’re of a mind to see the others, go to Refinery 29 for the scoop. (Don’t worry, it’s a fashion site, not a porn site.) Some of the pics are not safe for work, but most are a hoot.

Actually, in my Internet wanderings, I did find evidence that there’s at least one American who’s a bona fide soccer fan. It’s the guy who shouted, “USA!” after smashing a pie into the face of an English player who was being interviewed by the BBC. He ran off with his hands held high, no doubt feeling quite proud of himself. Of course, the Brits just laughed it off.

If he’d done that here, he’d be on his way to a secret prison with a sack over his head. Be warned, fella. Don’t bring that behavior back here. We don’t mess around. That’s why we like bone-crunching American football, not some sissy crap where you can’t use your hands. No offense.

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