living the high life

Well I am officially in Tylenol 3 happy land. I had a minor surgical procedure this evening, that will make me speak like Sly Stallone for a day or so. My cure for the Sly-speak is a little gift of a drug that could probably soothe a horse after a run in with a horny bull elephant. Jesus that's pretty distasteful. Are dentists universally reviled? We hate them as kids and rarely get over it during adulthood. I mean the notion of heading into someone's office and have them insert a rapidly moving drill into one of the most nerve-filled areas of your body - well let's just say it's not everyone's cup o' tomato juice.

He did have a LCD TV mounted on the ceiling, so at least I could intermittently watch CNN while pretending not to hear him ripping apart the inside of my mouth. Yep, distasteful again, at least I have an excuse this time....

So now I have to concentrate on chewing on the right-hand side of my mouth...for 2 weeks. Lord knows as much as I try I will not be able to follow through with/remember this ridiculous requirement. So if you don't see me around much it's because I'm stuck in the lock-jaw ward at Bellevue. I have no idea what that means but something tells me it's a famous movie line.

With that in mind, some good quotage to end this random spewing of material:

Jim Young: And there is no such thing as a no sale call. A sale is made on every call you make. Either you sell the client some stock or he sells you a reason he can't. Either way a sale is made, the only question is who is gonna close? You or him? Now be relentless, that's it, I'm done.

Broker: I know you're not standing on your front porch with a bag of money waiting for me to call you. But I'm not some 18-year-old selling a cure for AIDS. I'm 46 years old, I have 22 years market experience, I know this business. So pick up your skirt, grab your balls, and lets go make some money.


That's it. I'm done.