Hank's Blog

Hank Schrader wrote:
It's been a little while since I updated all of you faithful blog readers about my brother-in-law and his health issues. But first, I gotta take a moment and say you guys are the best. (Or, possibly, possessing just a little too much free time. Just kidding -- you're the best.) The response to this little blog of mine has blown me away. I had no idea so many people read these things, much less would want to read mine. Of course, I have always been a popular guy. Everybody wants a piece of the Hankster! Nah, just messing with you. Well, not really, but I don't want anyone thinking Gomie's right when he says that my head's getting too big to fit through the door.

Anyway, this entry is not about me. It's about my brother-in-law Walt, who is also an interesting person... or so I've been told. Ha, I'm just busting his balls a bit since he got some good news the other day. Gotta give him some shit, right?

Walt had a big chest scan -- my wife is adamant that I mention the kind of scan he got, so it's a PET-CT scan. She does these things every day at her job. She's the resident Kleinman radiology genius in all things scanning. There, happy Baby? Anyway, it's like a PET scan and a Cat scan combined. By the way, what is it with all the animal references? Will he have to take a Dog scan next? Maybe a little Hamster scan. (Betcha Richard Gere's had one of those. Ha! No wait, that was a gerbil. My bad.)

Walt got the results the other day and, drum roll... he's had an 80% tumor shrinkage. Eighty effing percent! I never thought I'd be so happy to hear the word "shrinkage," if you know what I mean. I never knew the guy had it in him, but he freaking kicked that cancer's ass. He's like Godzilla, stomping all over Tokyo.

He's still got the damn disease, but everyone's got some hope now. My nephew gets to keep his dad around for a while. And my soon-to-be-born niece gets to spend some time with the old guy. That is, if Sky ever drops that kid. Jeez... it's like the longest pregnancy ever. I think my sister-in-law may be about yea close to going totally ball-chopping psycho if she doesn't have that baby soon. She's gonna birth a five year old at this rate. At least there won't be any diapers to change.

Hank Schrader wrote:
There are things they don't teach you when you're training to join the DEA. I mean, they prepare you as much as it's possible to prepare someone for the lawless junkie hordes we face everyday. However, there are certain aspects of everyday life as an agent that aren't covered in training. For example, getting sweat stains out of body armor.

Look, I'm a guy -- I sweat. Sorry for being a man. I mean, I live in freaking Albuquerque, which becomes the left armpit of hell during the summer. Yeah, yeah, it's a dry heat -- my ass. The heat may be dry but I'm producing enough sweat to drown a small army. And you know, this body armor we wear does not exactly, shall we say... breathe.

Now I'd say screw it and leave the sweat stains as they are, but you know, I'm representing the DEA, so I gotta answer to the bossman. And the bossman says sweat stains are unsightly. So I gotta break out the white vinegar, do a little soak, and voila! Good as new. Of course, then you smell like vinegar. Which, come to think of it, kind of smells like B.O. Guess it's a toss up.

Hank Schrader wrote:
As you all know, I am the occasional consumer of a fine, "brewed to silky perfection" bottle of beer. I might even partake of something a bit stronger from time to time. During off hours. And never to excess. Well... hardly ever.

Anyway, I was in a situation the other day that reminded me of that fine line between "lovable drunkard" and "drunk asshole." (And why, of course, it is always wrong for someone not of legal drinking age to drink. Have you ever seen someone vomit in a pool before? I've seen the aftermath, and it ain't pretty. Wouldn't want to have to clean that baby up. Guess that's the darker, non-cougar banging side of the pool boy life.)

So I had this confrontation with someone who had gotten a bit too chummy with Senor Tequila. I've seen this guy drink before, but I wasn't prepared for the little Jekyll and Hyde thing he had going on. (Of course, I could have taken him if it came to a fight, but it would have been a hollow victory. The guy's not exactly tough.) I shouldn't say who this person is -- well, he probably wouldn't mind. Nah, I can't -- best to use some discretion in this case. Let's just say he likes science and shares a name with Harvey Keitel's character in a certain Tarantino film.

Now, I'm not upset at this person. I mean, hell, I've been there. I think we've all been there at some point. One minute you're innocently dancing on a table, and the next you're... well, let's just say that's why I personally don't drink Jagermeister anymore.

Oh man! It's hard though now that I've seen this thing in SkyMall. It's this machine that you put your bottle of Jager in, and it chills your shots. How great is that? Of course, I can't justify actually buying it. The sucker's like, 170 bucks or something completely obscene like that. But maybe my brother-in-law can come up with something. (He kind of owes me one. The reason why is unimportant.) You know, some dry ice or liquid nitrogen or sub-zero chamber deal. Guy's brain has to be useful for something other than cleaning up at Trivial Pursuit, right?