So I Turned 24....

So I Turned 24…

“Nurse!” yelled the doctor as he stood their sweating; his hands shaking. He had asked her to retrieve something very crucial otherwise; one of his patients might not make it. “What was I thinking?” he muttered in to himself. He couldn’t let the patient know that he was starting to get nervous. The trembling hand, holding the needle, inched closer and closer, when all of sudden, the nurse burst through the door holding a bottle of Russia’s best, 40 80 Proof Vladimir Vodka. Everything was going to be ok.

The doctor took three swigs and preceded with the delivery. He poured a shot for the mother-to-be. She was getting a little cranky and needed something to calm her down. The father-to-be came prepared. He drank in the car while he was driving them to the hospital. The nurse took a baby bottle with warm milk and began to mix it, drop by drop with the vodka. This baby was going to be thirsty when he would come out of the womb.

This common misconception of a how Russian’s give birth is a false. The hospitals can’t afford to use real milk, so they use powdered milk instead.

Twenty four years later the baby is now writing this blog. He, of course, is no longer a baby, but he has yet to earn the title of being called a man. In Russia he would have wrestled a bear when he was 14. It was hard to find a bear to wrestle in America. My parents took me to the circus, after a failed attempt at the zoo, but things didn’t go as planned there either. Police were involved, but by the time they got there, I had only managed wrestle with the bear for a mere 11 minutes and 32 seconds, instead of the full hour and half that was needed. The bear came out alive, but not unscathed. He hobbled away with a broken paw and a chipped tooth. Embarrassed by the entire situation he now sells medical insurance in Madison, Wisconsin.

Life is too short and I need to start completing my goals. Mark my words, by the time I turn 25, I will have wrestled a bear.