My foot surgery was more like General Hustle than General Hospital!

It’s a little known fact that while laid up recuperating on my couch in Sleepy Hollow, I pretty much invented the “binge-watching” movement along with my friend Li (The Chinese food Delivery Guy made famous by my Tony no Here post. I needed surgery because I’d broken my left ankle while playing volleyball and I was extremely worked up because I’d never broken anything before unless you count the record I smashed binge-watching all nine seasons of Dynasty!



Without a doubt, the best show ever made!


Keep I mind that this wasn’t binging TV shows like it’s so easy to do nowadays with a million things available on Netflix or Amazon or Hulu or on your phone; this was me having to get every season of the show piecemeal on EBAY. Then when I finally got them (in the mail, mind you, which took forever), I tore through them non-stop like a rabid dog with a bone. I was laid up and laid out but finally they were gonna slice me open and fix me like The Six Million Dollar Man. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and if my life was a movie you’d faintly hear Michael Bolton singing along with me on the couch “When I’m back on my feet again…”




The day of the surgery, I was a bundle of crazy nerves and my normally neurotic self was on hyper-overload. I’d arrived armed with my wife and my sister for emotional comfort, two boxes of Imodium AD for gastric support, and a big black X drawn on my ankle for physical support and to make sure they didn’t cut open on the wrong foot. That may seem like an urban legend, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My surgical prep nurse, Nurse Ratched, took one look and needless to say, she was not amused with my sharpie skills and that was just the start of multiple things we wouldn’t see eye to eye on.


nurse ratched


It was an early morning surgery and I hadn’t eaten anything since midnight and was starving. My nervous stomach wasn’t playing nicely with all the butterflies and the painkillers I was on mixed with a splash of my ever-present Imodium AD. As the nurse was filling out the paperwork and asking me questions, she told me to remove my clothes. Obviously I thought this strange as it wasn’t a casting call for the Magic Mike sequel, just a random hospital examination room.


nurse meme 3


“Um, that’s OK, just the ankle getting done, so not really gonna get naked but thank you for the offer.” I said.

She was not very interested in discussing it. “You need to be completely undressed for surgery.”

“No, actually I don’t. Once again, thanks for the offer, but I’m having surgery on my ankle – why would I need to be naked? You know where the ankles are right? I can see taking off my socks and maybe my pants, but why would I possibly need to take off my underwear? I’m not taking my underwear off! What’s going on here?” I’m not a calm person normally, but this was starting to set me off.


nurse meme 2


“Listen Sir, if you don’t take your underwear off, we’re going to cut them off of you!”

“Listen lady, if I wake up and you’ve cut my underwear off, I’m cutting yours off next!”

“This is not optional, it’s not sanitary and you need to remove your clothes!”


never nude 2


The peanut gallery, and by that I mean my wife and sister, were not being very supportive or having my back at this point and really just trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness. My wife was like, “just take your contacts out and lay back and relax – you’ll feel better and it’ll be over soon.” It was just like what the masseuse told me before she massaged me and then proceeded to flick my testicle on our Honeymoon. Advice you should never take: “Just take your clothes off and listen.”


nurse meme 4


I was outnumbered and outgunned here, so I begrudgingly removed my clothes all the while picturing the conversation they’d be having about this up in the operating room over my listless body: “Why wouldn’t he take off his underwear? Is he a never-nude like Tobias? What’s with this big black X on his ankle? Poor little guy, he’s obviously a grower, not a shower.”


never nude


Either way, relaxed is not a word one would be using to describe me that day. As they came in to wheel me down the hallway to the butchers in the basement, I was contactless so everything was blurry which actually did make me feel better. They’d already administered the anesthesia, which also helped to make me groggy, and they told me to count down from 100 and off I’d go…My wife and sister were following the gurney down the hall telling me to relax when an orderly sidled up to the guy pushing me: “Hey Scott, are you heading downstairs? Will you drop this sample off at the lab on your way?” and he proceeded to gently place a bag on my stretcher. My wife and sister gasped and looked at each other in shock as I was squinting up a storm and trying to sit up and see if I was hallucinating with that clear plastic bag. “Is that shit? Is there shit in that bag? That looks like shit! Is that Sh…” and with that the anesthesia kicked in and I was knocked out! There was a bag of someone’s shit – someone’s shit – being transported on me like it was nothing! Literally, my nightmare came true and there wasn’t enough Imodium AD in the world to prevent that shit storm from getting me!



As I was coming to in the recovery room, my wife and sister got Nurse Ratched to tell her I was awake and I started babbling again as if someone had just pressed pause on me when the anesthesia kicked in: “There was shit on me! There was shit on me! I saw it – it was shit! There was shit on me!” My wife was saying I was crazy and trying to tell me that I must have been mistaken to reassure me and calm me down, but one look at my sister’s face told me it was definitely shit! The nurse thought I was having a reaction to the anesthesia and was concerned until my wife told her what my incoherent babbling was about. Needless to say, it was a shitty operation!




Only me right? I mean, who does that happen to? I go in for what was supposed to be routine surgery and they turned me into a fecal drug mule! I can’t help but feel like this wouldn’t have happened on ERGrey’s Anatomy maybe – but definitely not on ER…Where’s Julianna Margulies when you need her?


greys anatomy

CelebriTuesdays: My fight with Floyd Mayweather!

Fight 1


I didn’t actually realize that there’d be a fight this weekend as I didn’t hear a peep about it anywhere. I’m so amazed that none of my 5,000 friends on Facebook even talked about it – especially because I seem to know such boxing experts.


boxing expert


OK, obviously I’m kidding around because I really am very lucky to be friends with such boxing aficionados. The non-stop barrage of memes and posts and then the begging for any way to get out of paying to watch the fight (so not ghetto at all) that I’d forgotten about when I had my tussle with Floyd Mayweather.



Store 1

Don’t mind me, just stalking here in the window. As you were…



Full disclosure, I never really had a tussle with Mayweather so much as I had to hustle which rhymes with tussle, which is a pretty close distinction in my book. After hearing about the Mayweather – McGregor fight relentlessly, my wife said “didn’t you see him on the street?” and I was like “No, where would I see him – Macy’s? as if we run in the same circles totally forgetting that in fact, we do. I was leaving work one day and stumbled upon a massive crowd while he was out jewelry shopping in NYC. As most people do, he was just trying to blend in nonchalantly like an everyday guy out shopping. No one might have even noticed him except for the crowd of paparazzi with cameras and his gigantic posse of security. I mean gigantic in the number of security members and size of said guards. It was like he had his very own Grizz and Dot Com – TIMES TEN.


grizz and dot com


I’m really not one to question anyone’s physical abilities – especially considering the fact that I’m about as tough as a third grade girl on crutches – but I thought he was a pretty tough dude and he was traveling with more security than certain government dignitaries.




I’m not the most alert person in the world, but seeing a crowd of about a hundred people staring into the window of a jewelry store gave me a hint that someone was around, but I couldn’t tell who it was. All I could see through the big crowd of people jockeying for position was those security guards and glimpses of his big sunglasses which were totally unnecessary for a January afternoon by the way. The lady next to me told me what was going on with a sneer, as if I should be able to readily identify anyone with no line of sight through a big crowd like that; another reason to wish I had that bionic eye like Colonel Steve Austin. The stalker in me went into stealth mode, and repeated the mantra my training instilled in me: What would Mr. T do?




what would mr t do

With Mr. T in my corner, I’m unstoppable! No fools will be pitied today!



As Floyd was leaving the store, I hit the pavement bobbing and weaving like him on Saturday night to get through the crowd. I ducked, I dodged, I zigged, zagged then ran to the corner – just like my training taught me. Side note: by “my training”, I mean repeat viewings of Mr. T’s iconic performance as Clubber Lang in Rocky III. As fast as I was, Mayweather rushed out quickly and he wasn’t stopping. No one, and I mean no one, was getting close enough to get a picture with him so I had to settle for my patented chase and snap. I got a few pics and actually was close enough to hear him chatting up the reporters, but he didn’t get a real interaction with me which we can all agree was a big loss for him that day!





So as we digest and regurgitate last weekend’s fight until all of my Facebook boxing experts move on to their next area of expertise – Texas flooding and destruction – let’s remember that if only I talked smack and possibly got closer to pop him in the chops right there on Fifth Avenue, I could have gotten my ass kicked last week in Vegas and scored a huge payday.


jesus cwithe