On Saturday morning I woke up with the pleurisy-like back pain. This happens every couple months, and Benito is sick of hearing me complain about it. Knowing that he�d be calling at noon-ish, I knew that I needed to do something about my pain before the bitching and moaning began.

Instead of toughing it out, I called a chiropractor.

Now start clappin� for me. This really is a big deal.

I have this unease with doctors. I know exactly what they�ll do in most situations, and I don�t appreciate much of it.

I�ve been prescribed so many medicines and had unnecessary procedures done when a simple dietary change to avoid an allergy would have made a world of a difference.

I�ve been given something to make me cough up phlegm and something to prevent me from coughing at the same time.

When one medicine didn�t give the right effect, I was tossed another one to try out, undoubtedly leaving my system in chaos.

The last time I saw an actual doctor, I was fine with him. He was a general practitioner with all sorts of hippie affiliations, and his understanding of the entire body just made sense. He simply said to knock this or that off to get the desired effects.

Much like that one, single doctor in Austin, chiropractors also make sense. Cause and effect. Action and reaction. An understanding of the anatomy and physiology without discounting all other causal relationships.

There was once a time where I scoffed at the idea of a chiropractor, as I�m sure some of you are doing right now. That was until my first college roommate went to chiropractic school. At $18k per year, an 18-hour course load, no scholarships, crazy entrance requirements that mirrored all the medial schools, and labs galore in all of your classes, you may set up your office in a strip mall, but this is a serious school.

(For the record, I saw the chiropractor in an office within a health club. It may seem a little hokey, but he had a full set-up comparable to the physical therapy room at the free standing hospital I once attended for carpal tunnel fixing. Tonight I�ll go to his usual office, so I can report back whether or not it�s in a strip mall.)

Anyway, the guy was professional but not stuffy. Thorough but not invasive. Friendly but still the boss of my back. *

I�m a fan. I go back tonight to read my x-rays and likely get cracked.

* A friend and I were talking about these comparisons when related to dating.

What men want:

Her hair shiny but her face not.

Her to speak up for herself but not be a bitch about it.

Her bosom ample but her tush not.

What women want:

Him confident but not arrogant.

Him attractive but not pretty.

Him sensitive but not a wuss.

These are the quick ones that come to mind at this moment. If you think of any others, let the guestbook know. It�ll be funny to see what others come up with.

All right. I�m outta here. It�s time to go get my bones put back into place.�