Black Tahiti Pearls & A Black Heart To Match

He lives a life that nurtures the separation of the heart. The money gives you power. The constant travel provides the freedom. Combine the two along with a hearty scoop of charm and it’s easy to see how my Uncle gets virtually any woman he wants, in the States and overseas. Seeing is believing and I’ve seen him in action. I lean up against a back wall at the Sotheby’s Auction House in NYC. I watch him work his magic on a woman half his age. "For me?" The young woman giggles in delight as he strings a rare black Tahiti pearl necklace across the nape of her neck. There is $25,000 worth of rare jewels now dripping on her 20-something-year-old skin. The same black Tahiti pearls my Aunt wears. (If she only knew. Correction...if she would stop denying the knowledge.) I feel nausea stirring in the pit of my stomach. His shrewd arrogance leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. For a man whose business ethics I respect so much, his personal life leaves little to be respectful of.

It’s one thing to cheat on your wife, but to do it so openly and right infront of me, your nephew? To do this to my Aunt? Your wife for the past 30+ years and the mother of your only child? It's not just an affair. It's multiple affairs. It's countless women around the world and it's been going on for numerous years. It's a lifestyle. It's become a shrug.

Fuck you. It’s what I wanted to say. Fuck your millions of dollars. Fuck your white picket fence and fuck the matching Benzs in the garage. Fuck your yacht. Fuck your summer house. Fuck it all. It’s all smoke and mirrors. There is no depth to the life you are living. I just can no longer love what you do.

I look up to your extraordinary business sense, but it’s the only sense you seem to even have. Where is the substance? Where is the heart? Sure it all looks good on paper, but that is all it is – good on paper. It’s surface deep. And it’s only a matter of time before the paper cuts you. I know you don't care. Even if you read this, your response would be a shrug.

PPMD Day 1: Part of the Family

PPMD Day 1: Part of the Family

Part 1 of Winheld's World coverage of Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy’s (PPMD) 2007 Annual Conference, July 12-15, in Philadelphia.

It's a family that no one chooses to join, but when your child is diagnosed with Duchenne or Becker (considered a less severe form of Duchenne) muscular dystrophy, you automatically become a part of it. That was one of PPMD Founding President Pat Furlong's key messages in her opening address on this, the first day of the conference. Pictured (at left) are me and Frank, my nurse.

It was a message that certainly resonated with me. For years, I tried to ignore that "family." I didn't want to be a part of it at all; I just wanted to live my life. But you can't leave this family (just like the mafia). Sooner or later, it pulls you back in! For me, it was all of the medical stuff I've been through in the past five years that brought me back. It made me realize just how fortunate I am to be here and that I should use my good fortune to make life better for others with my disease.

Honestly, a lot of what was covered today was over my head, but I'm supposed to be an intelligent person (though that is debatable), so I gave it my best effort to follow the proceedings. One thing I did understand was the excellent analogy offered by Dr. Steve Wilton of the University of Western Australia (gotta love that Aussie accent) presented an analogy, likening the lack or shortage of the dystrophin protein in the muscles of someone with Duchenne's or Becker, to a tractor with a faulty shock absorber. As the doctor explained, the tractor might work for a little while with the bad shock absorber, but eventually it will break down. But how do you do remedy the problem? Do you try, for example, to repair the shock absorber? Do you try to replace it with something else? This is the dilemma that scientists face in their quest for a cure.

Dr. Richard Finkel of Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (who also happens to be my neurologist) spoke about how doctors prove the benefit of a potential treatment. For example, walking 30 feet in a given amount of time may not mean much in one's daily life. But if a treatment improves a child's ability to accomplish that task, that may be one way of measuring that treatment's effectiveness.

One important point I took away from today is that researchers are not looking for a single treatment, as many people might think. That's because the genetic mutation in those with Duchenne's isn't the same from one person to the next. In some people, material is missing, whereas in others, the order is wrong. So there may be a need for four or five treatments, each tailored to certain portions of the Duchenne's population.

Last but not least on this day, I nearly killed myself (and my nurse) boarding the train on the way home! You see, getting into the passenger car requires me to make a sharp turn, while at the same time trying to get over the threshold. Well, as I made that turn, I must have turned too widely because I got stuck, dislodging my arm rest. Frank put down my bag and helped me get across the threshold. He then turned around to pick up the bag. At the same time, I inadvertently knocked the left arm rest into my right hand, throwing the wheelchair into reverse at full speed -- right out of the passenger car and into Frank! Then, as we tried to get me back in, the train started moving. It was quite embarrassing, to say the least. Better luck tomorrow...

Need A Summer Job? Be A Condom Tester

Are you are student or recent graduate currently looking for a summer job? Or are you already established in your career, but wouldn’t mind making a little extra doe on the side? Well you are in luck because I’ve got the job for you! Everyone wants a job where they can get paid for doing what they love. And you love having sex, right? So why not get paid for it?

No, I’m not talking about becoming a hooker, although from my understanding it can be a pretty lucrative business. What I’m referring to is a way to make money having sex that is actually legal. Yes, you too can f*ck morning, noon and night and get paid for it! And who knows, in the process you may even help save the planet from the spread of disease! You would be like an x-rated version of Mother Teresa.

Durex brand condoms is asking men and women to test a range of its condoms and provide feedback on their experiences. Hopefuls must explain in their applications why they would make “expert” condom testers. How they test the condoms is not specified. However, if you consider yourself an expert when it comes to rubbers, then you should probably have a variety of “testing methods” in mind.

Durex is expecting thousands of applicants for a new unpaid job as a condom tester. Oops, sorry I didn’t read the fine print. It’s an unpaid job, but hey there is still sex involved so how bad of a job can it be? Besides, think of how impressive the title “condom tester” will look on a resume you hand to a future employer.

• Apply Today!
  Durex Easy-on Condom Tester Application Form

(And you thought I made some of these posts up. Nope, you just can't make this shit up.)

On the Right Track

On the Right Track

Against the backdrop of the Pennsylvania legislature's current debate over funding for mass transit systems across the commonwealth, I took the train into Center City Philadelphia today for the first time since I was a toddler. A proponent of mass transit since my days as a graduate student in urban studies, I was never really able to put my mouth where my money was due to the fact that the train station nearest to my house was heretofore inaccessible. When I picked up a friend at the same station earlier this week, I saw that it had been made completely accessible. With a conference to attend downtown next week, I thought I would go on a trial run today. I'm glad I did.

The savings in cost alone made it well worth it, as parking my full-size van in town costs at least $20. Roundtrip tickets for me and my nurse on SEPTA's Regional Rail service were $6 a piece for travel during off-peak hours* (of course, fares increase on Monday). And don't forget the cost of gas these days -- which should make funding for mass transit a slam dunk, but the way. Aside from cost, my van has a raised roof, so I can't park in most garages.

Riding the train itself very simple and convenient. The train conductors were friendly and helpful. With the long base of my wheelchair, it was a bit difficult to make the turn into the passenger car, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. While riding, the swaying motion of the train had me slightly on edge, as I don't have much balance, but tightening my wheelchair's chest strap resolved the problem for the most part.

Once in town, there was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity to grab a bite to eat at historic Reading Terminal Market. Hey, I might be skinny, but I'm not stupid -- I never pass up a good meal if I can help it!

*SEPTA riders with disabilities can qualify for reduced fares by filling out an application. I plan to do that ASAP!

My Quirkiest Quirk

Everyone has a few quirks, some more annoying than others, but it’s normal. Quirks help make up our personality. Similar to our mannerisms, it’s what makes us unique. It’s what makes me, me…or what makes me weird? Probably a little of both. It’s the little idiosyncrasies that that often go ignored in my eyes, but become visibly apparent in the eyes of another. Like when my 3-year-old niece and I were enjoying some Target fruit snacks the other day. She pointed out the fact that I separate the chewy little bites into color/flavor groups. “Why you do that?” she inquired. “Do what?” I replied. I didn’t have a good answer for her because I didn’t have the slightest idea why I do that, I just do it. I also eat them in this order – orange, grape and then strawberry. The red is always last because it’s my favorite. I’m not raciest. I don’t support fruit segregation, but I do seem to be giving special treatment to the red. But why do I eat them in groups and in that particular order? If you figure that out, let me know because I don’t do that with any other food, only the fruit snacks. It may be my quirkiest quirk. I give you Exhibit A.

Although, it doesn’t end there. I have other quirks. I’m a bit of a neat and clean freak too. I don’t like germs. I don’t like mess. Combine the two and I feel uneasy. I feel disorganized and out of my element. I have trouble thinking, even functioning in a world that looks as if a tornado blew in and left a thick layer or crud and debris marking its destructive path. Simply put, clutter and grime is not a friend of mine.

I think it’s the meterosexual in me. I don’t mind getting dirty, but I don’t like germs. More specific, I don’t like man-made germs. Filth left by strangers. Hotel rooms gross me out, even the five-star ones. I just can’t relax without imagining what bodily fluids a blacklight could reveal on the sheets. My skin is crawling just thinking about it! But I can’t let it get the best of me. I can’t be one of those OCD neat and clean freaks! I keep it under control.

When I was in high school, I believe I had a mild form of OCD when it came to my alarm clock. I would check it constantly before bedtime and throughout the night. It was bad. I must have checked to make sure the alarm was properly set at least 20 times in a single night. I would lay there and tell myself I just checked it 3 times before I turned the light off, but I just couldn’t fall asleep without checking it again. And again. And again. I don’t remember how I broke myself of the habit and I don’t even know why I was so worried my alarm wouldn’t go off. If it didn’t go off, so what. I would be late for school, big deal. I wasn’t even worried about being late for school so why the excessive time checking? To this day I don’t have the slightest clue. All I know is that I kept it to myself in fear that I would be labeled a freak.

I don’t have any Obsessive Compulsive Disorders now, but there are a few things that I do which some see as rather strange. I would list them, but perhaps even today I’m apprehensive to share this info in fear that the world will apply the freak tag upon me. And maybe I deserve to be called a freak, but aren’t we all freaks to some degree? My “kinda sorta not really girlfriend” reassures me that she disregards the peculiar little quirks that I do possess and focuses more on all the adorable idiosyncrasies and sweet layers that make me who I am. She refers to how I tend to bite my bottom lip when I am in deep thought. How I rub the back of my neck when I am nervous. How I tilt my head to the right when I’m flirting. And even how I give her this smirk when something sexual is going thru my mind and I’m trying my hardest to behave. These things I am not even aware of until someone brings them to my attention.

Mannerisms and personality will come thru no matter how nonchalant you think you are being. You can’t hide who you are and I can’t hide these things anymore than I can hide the fact that I color code my fruit snacks. It’s who I am – quirky.

Man Shoves 66 Weenies In His Mouth & Lives To Tell About It

Is it just me or does the overwhelming urge to shove 2, 3 and even 4 weenies in your mouth at the same time seem a little gay? On second thought, wanting to shove a single weenie in your mouth sounds a little sketchy if you are a dude. You have to admit, it has a certain connotation to it - some underlying homosexual tendencies there. Of course, I’m talking about hotdogs though and not penises. But still…this is pretty gross.

It’s a 4th of July tradition in NY, Nathan’s Famous Hotdog Eating Contest. The goal is to shove down as many hotdogs as humanly possible in just 12 minutes. You must eat the dog and the bun, although you are allowed water to help the weenie slide in with more ease. Some prefer to dunk their weenie and buns in the water, which creates this stomach turning pile of regurgitated looking mush. (Yes, I’m getting nauseous just writing this.) Whoever downs the most weenies once the 12 minute mark is reached is declared the champ! They are awarded the yellow mustard championship belt for their efforts and a massive stomach ache.

This year’s winner, Joey Chestnut, took in a total of 66 weenies! He upset the 6th time defending champ, Takeru Kobayashi, who came in 2nd place with 63 weenies. Despite having a wisdom tooth pulled just a week before the contest and suffering from “sever jaw arthritis”, Kobayashi competed in memory of his late mother. He was on track to win, but in the closing seconds of the contest, he spewed the final 3 dogs in his mouth. Heartbreaking and nauseating. Don’t be too sad though. Not many men can say they took in 63 weenies in 12 minutes! So smile, your Mom would be proud.

Improve Your Sex Life with Yoga

You already know yoga can give you greater flexibility, better muscle tone, a surefire way to release stress, and maybe even enlightenment. But better sex? You betcha! Yoga offers myriad physical and emotional benefits that add up to more fun in the bedroom and a more fulfilling, meaningful sexual relationship with your partner. Whether heating up your sex life is the main goal of your yoga practice or just a happy side effect, chalk this information up as yet another great reason to roll out the mat. It puts the “O” in Yoga. Here are the 5 major ways it works…

• Sensuality
  Yoga is sexy! How often do you put on as few clothes as possible and stick your butt in the air? Yoga helps you develop an awareness of sensations in your body. It teaches you to savor every sensation in your body, including the really delicious ones that happen during sex. It also helps keep you rooted in your body and out of your head, where your swirling thoughts can keep you from enjoying the experience at hand when between the sheets.
• Confidence
  There is no doubt about it. Confidence is sexy! Need a confidence booster? Try this on for size. A recent study shows that people who practice yoga gain less weight as they age than people who don’t do yoga at all. And while feeling more fit is an undeniable turn-on, a sustained yoga practice also encourages you to develop a reverence for your body.
• Energy
  Who doesn’t want an energy boost? Over 1/3 of women say tiredness causes them to cut back on sex. But just 8 weeks of a simple at-home yoga practice significantly improved sleep, even for chronic insomniacs. It’s a simple exercise to connect the dots - practice yoga, sleep better, have more sex.
• Intimacy
  Yoga’s effects transcend the physical. It helps us become more comfortable in vulnerable positions, whether it’s a full backbend during class or a heart-to-heart conversation in bed at night. Yoga helps us peel away layer after layer of our defense mechanisms to get back to our true nature, which is loving and compassionate. When we peel away our protective armor, we can be much more connected to each other no matter where we are, including in the bedroom.
• Better Orgasms
  On a purely physical level, many yoga poses increase blood flow to the pelvis. In our sedentary world, the muscles that run through the pelvis are chronically constricted. Yoga involves engaging and drawing up the muscles of the pelvic floor, which strengthens the muscles that play an integral role in orgasm.

Hmm. Now it makes sense why I’ve always been attracted to girls that are into yoga. They are right up there with gymnasts in my book. Perhaps good on the mat does translate to good on the mattress? Although I do have a thing for dancers too. Good on the floor = good on the floor? Well, yes. So far I've found it to be true.