You’re looking at it, folks: The Shoprider Scooter
For $6595.00 you too can have this ENCLOSED (with wipers even!) scooter, that can be your new favorite mode of transportation. Forget your legs, your bicycle, or your Hooveraround Chair, this all-weather scooter is the NEW way for lazy folks AND old folks alike, to get their asses around town.
At least (bleh) it runs on a battery.
Conclusion: Do I think this goes too far? A big, resounding yes.
– Tiff
Do they even exist? Anyone know?
If not, SHAME ON YOU SAUNA MAKERS.
We all should have an equal opportunity for some hot sauna love.
Oh yeah. I want me some cedar-scented tryst. Now.
– Tiff
Admit it. We’ve all done it. After transferring into bed at night, you realize you’ve been rolling around all day with some embarrassingly bizarre object that has somehow attached itself/instered itself into your chair.
It’s fess-up time, people. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever found on your wheelchair, that either you unknowingly, or someone else, put there?
Here’s my list:
– Makeup pencil sharpener that hitched a ride on my footrests all day.
– Makeup brush that managed to fall alongside my ass on my seat cushion.
That’s where that went?!
– Beach sand from Sanibel Island in FLORIDA that was still in my wheelwell, discovered after I had been back at home in MN for 6 mos.
– French fries, popcorn, and other tasty food (no, I’m not saving it for later).
Your turn!
– Tiff
Wheelchair Bomber Kills 3 in Iraq Police Station
The bomb was hidden under his seat cushion, which security failed to check…obviously.
Great, thanks crippled (or fake crippled) terrorist-man. Now I’m going to have to endure an even more extensive & personalized search at airport security, thanks to your ANNOYING retarded terrorist ass.
The terrorists are getting desperate, that’s for sure. This is almost as bad as when a couple of weeks ago, two Iraqi women with Downs Syndrome were used as suicide bombers. This wheelchair bomber probably willingly killed himself though, unlike these poor ladies.
I always knew a wheelchair was a perfect place to hide a bomb. It’s funny it took terrorists almost 8 years to figure this little factoid out. Losers.
– Tiff
More proof: Gas station pump accessibility buttons.
These little blue “I need help!” buttons were created by some clueless government official over a decade ago. Gas stations across the country are required to have ’em. Nice idea in theory, except there’s one problem: THEY’RE USELESS.
Maybe if you’re Stretch Armstrong, these buttons are of some benefit, but for 99% of the human race, being able to reach these buttons from your vehicle is impossible. What were they thinking??
The whole pourpose of these buttons is to allow us gimpy folk to get our gas pumped without having to leave the comfort of our vehicles. But if you have to get out of your car/truck/van/whatever to hit the stupid button, then what’s the point?
Yes people, this is my rant of the week.
I’m a C6 quad and surprisingly, I can’t hit the button. But I know fully-functioning paras who still can’t reach these buttons. To solve this ridiculous predicament (how I long for the full-serve days!), I now keep the number of the gas station I frequent in my wallet, and after I pull up to the pump, I just call them and alert them that a person in a wheelchair is at pump <insert # here>, and within a few minutes they come out to pump my gas.
Has anyone figured out a better way to get gas?
– Tiff
As I promised a few weeks ago (to the sassy, ex-Ms. Wheelchair of Minnesota), here are my official suggestions for the best way to pick up the beautiful men of Minneapolis, or the beautiful men of <insert your city here>.
Rule #1: Cleavage rules. Men are pervy animals when you get down to it, and the best way in the beginning at least to grab their attention (on that street corner or that carpeted skyway), is to show them the goods (and believe me, the boobs are magical).
Rule #2: Smile! A smile is the second best way to invite a man to approach you, disabled, wheelchair-using, or no. Just flash them that groovy smile of yours and see what happens. In my experience, I will at least get a “Hello.” And hell, with a smokin’ guy who could get any two-legger he wanted, this is saying something.
Rule #3: Ok, I already covered boobs and a smile? What else is there? Flashing them your nipples? Yelling your cell number at them? Pretending you need help? (kidding)
Seriously though, the main rule of thumb is to just be as approachable as possible. If that involves channeling “approachable vibes” so the hottie in question notices ya, then do it. I’ve always found too that sporting the natural look (no makeup, un-blowdried hair), and if you can do it subtlety (no bra) works like a charm too (does that make me a slut?).
You see, approaching the sexy “girl next door” is WAY easier than approaching some dolled-up bombshell.
Ok guys…was there anything I missed? Meeting guys on the fly is NOT easy.
– Tiff
Seriously people. What the fuck is wrong with people?? As you’ve probably already heard by now, a quadriplegic dude got dumped out of his wheelchair last week on purpose, because the fucktard of a deputy didn’t believe the guy was paralyzed.
I honestly don’t know how she couldn’t have figured out he was the real deal: What? The bizarre quaddy hands, the atrophied legs, THE OBVIOUSLY USED WHEELCHAIR, weren’t enough proof? What an ignorant waste of space.
I’m sorry, but if that quad would’ve been me, I can guarantee you that the hardest bone in the human body, the elbow, would’ve been in her face so fast that she wouldn’t have known what hit her…and yes, I would’ve blamed it on a spasm.
– Tiff
Whether you loathe or love this “all things lovey dovey day,” it is upon us so we (yes we) must face the Kenny G. music.
– Here’s some fun stuff on the history of St. Valentine’s Day.
– And here’s a link to the other holiday celebrated today: Single’s Awareness Day.
I’ll be getting drunk on red wine and eating large quantities of dead cow flesh this evening. If anything says love better than this, I don’t what.
I’m curious, do any of you dis-folks out there have an amusing or enchanting Valentine’s Day tale to tell? If so, spill. I need some entertainment today.
Watch out for Cupid’s arrow!
– Tiff
Back in 2007 when I was livin’ it up as a crazed 20 something, single girl, I would go to the clubs of my fair city quite often. What can I say? It’s a great way to let off some steam, dance (yes people in wheelchairs can dance), and meet men….or at least I thought so. After several oh-my-god-annoying incidents, I decided to make a new rule for myself: Stay away from the drunk losers at the clubs!
Now why you may ask? It’s simple: They’re out of their mind hornballs who are NOT THEMSELVES. As they say, what you do drunk, you’re likely never to do sober, and oh baby, this is so true. Let me play out the scenario for you: “Hey you’re hot,” says the drunk guy to yours truly. I’m drunk at the time too and take his compliment seriously. I smile. Encouraged, he asks for my number. We chat up, he buys me a few drinks, and we part ways with a sexy kiss. So what’s wrong here? The next day, week, month, he never calls you back.
What I can guess is that after he’s sober, he became embarrassed: “Oh my God I hit on a woman in a wheelchair, and I’m going to Hell!” His feelings were never real, he’s not the kind of guy open-minded enough to date a disabled woman, and essentially…he’s wasted your time; truly and completely. So I’ve learned the hard way to never, ever, ever take these men seriously. In fact, stay far, far away!
Even better yet, buy a roufee and drug them. Kidding…
– Tiff
I’ve had this reoccurring obsession with sidecars over the past year. There’s no explanation for it really. It kind of just came out of no where. But, if I had to pin-point its beginnings, I’d have to say it was when I saw this uber cute semi-elderly couple tooling down Washington Ave. in a vintage motorcycle/sidecar “extravaganza” one day. I was giddy at the sight! Why? Because it dawned on me that I, despite my disability, could be that passenger in the sidecar. Riding in a sidecar was still an option for me; an option I’d never even considered up until that point.
Blame it on the fact I was born in 1979; a long ass time since sidecars were popular, or whatever you want, but I was (and still partially am) oblivious to how sidecars work. All I think is that they’re adorably cute and I want to ride in one. Is that too much to ask? You don’t really see a lot of sidecars on the roads these days, and you therefore don’t run into a lot of owners either; so the knowledge-base to learn about them is hard to find. I’m thinking I’m going to start researching it online. Maybe find a “Disabled Sidecar” association, or something like that, and then see if I can score a free ride in my city. I wonder what the height/weight requirements are for sidecars anyways?
I like the vintage WWII motorcycle/sidecar combos the best. There’s this romantic allure to them whenever I see one (and it’s rare, let me say). I fantasize about some hot, young officer picking me up out of my chair, setting me in his sidecar (and giving me his helmet to wear) and us riding off into the sunset somewhere. No destination in mind, just driving, wind blowing in our faces, the smell of burning gasoline, and me chilling in the sidecar like a pea in a pod.
Maybe one day this dream will become a reality. I’ll keep you posted 🙂
