Hey There Slimmest of All People,
Before I start in with this week’s heart-freezing story, let me tell you about a few things…
The Bona Fide song from the NPR Tiny Desk video contest is up on iTunes if you want to buy it. It’s expensive! 99 cents. It’s called Bambalina:
If you want a Slim Man Cooks cookbook for Valentine’s Day, we can ship it USPS Priority Mail for free:
And now for this weeks bone-chilling tale…
I’ve been listening to podcasts. When I tell this to some of my friends, they look at me like I just told them I was listening to Mr. Potato Head.
About a year ago, I was listening to regular old radio in the Slim Vehicle, and the host was talking to a guy about his ridiculously popular podcast. So when I got back to the shack, I checked out this podcasting thing.
I didn’t realize that my iPhone had a pre-installed app that lets you listen to podcasts. The icon is a purple square with a microphone in the middle; there are sound waves emanating from the mic. So I opened it up…  
And started listening to podcasts. There are lots of them, most are pretty bad, but some are really good. They’ve got food podcasts, music podcasts, political, comedy–you name it. I can listen on demand, and not have to download anything. I can put on headphones, plug my phone into my home stereo or car stereo…
I was listening to a health podcast recently; they were talking about cryotherapy.
They were a bit too enthusiastic, like they’d just downed a six-pack of 5 Hour Energy. I’d heard about it before; a lot of athletes use it after a tough game, it hastens healing and reduces inflammation.
So I thought I’d give it a try. I pulled a muscle in my neck on Christmas Day; it felt like someone had just chucked a spear into my trapezius. I went to the hospital, nothing was broken except my brain, and I’ve been getting better.
But it ain’t 100%. And I didn’t want to go through the whole routine–go to a doctor, who refers you to a specialist, who can’t see you for 3 months, and finally you’re standing there in a hospital gown with your bare ass hanging out while people prod you and poke you in sensitive places without even offering to buy you a drink first.
Why not try something new?
So I found a cryotherapy place not far from the Slim Shed. I walked in, and a woman–she was so fit she was glowing–took me to a small room.  She told me to take off all my clothes except my Bugs Bunny underwear, put on 2 pairs of socks from the bin, wrap a towel around my waist and go to the room across the hall.
There were 2 huge tanks labeled “LIQUID NITROGEN”. There was a large cylinder, looked like an open casket standing on its end. She measured the skin temperature of my thigh, and I walked in. My head was poking out of the top. The lovely woman gave me a pair of gloves to put on and closed the door. Then she quietly told me to give her the towel.
Then she said–seriously, verbatim–“Hold your boys.”
She turned on the liquid nitrogen and I felt a blast of cold air like I’d never felt before. My boys were now infants. The nitrogen billowed out of the top of the casket, right beneath my chin.
She told me to turn around, slowly, lift my head up and breathe and hold it. My teeth were chattering like those wind-up dentures you see around Halloween.
It went on like this for 3 minutes. She turned off the gas, gave me a towel, and measured the temperature of my thigh. It was 45 degrees lower than before.
I asked her how cold it was in there. “200 degrees below zero.” Seriously.
My Dad lived in upstate New York and it got to be below zero in the winter. It was so cold up there that grizzly bears would knock on the door asking to come in and hibernate. But they had fur coats on. I was naked.
After I got dressed, I felt exhilarated. Energized. I’m not trying to sell you anything, Slim People! I’m just telling you I felt pretty good, in general. That evening I noticed my neck felt a little better.
Now if I could only get my genitalia to thaw out.
Who loves ya?
Uncle Slimmy
PS…I made a new cooking video for minestrone. She’s a so nice. Click here to see the video: