(Well, I said I would explain the whole story but I've been a little remiss. Hey, I said I would fall asleep a few times in the middle.)
Episode 1~ My life is a fun house adventure filled with broken glass and old shoe boxes.
Personal factoid: I am a hypochondriac. This means if I get a cold, it's Tuberculosis. If I get a rash, first sign of Aids. Numerous bruises, blood clotting disorder; bleeding gums, Leukemia; black out drunk, Multiple Personality Disorder/ reason to assume I may have come into contact with AIDS. Loss of vision, Glaucoma. Infected scratch, Necrotizing Fasciitis (better know as flesh-eating bacteria). Swollen lymph nodes? Cat Scratch Fever...and AIDS.
I am not crazy when I say that this is entirely due to my father's insightful upbringing. Imagine any bizarre way a person could possibly 'bite the big one' and my father remembers someone who died in exactly if not slightly more gruesome a fashion by first and last name, year, age, and their grades in high school. His world, and vicariously mine, was filled with black widows, coral snakes, flipping cars, collapsing buildings, knife wielding neighbors, rabid kittens, encephalitic ponies, exploding organs and intestinal worms spawned from junk food a la 'newt from the fire' creationism. Every field was a land mine of Tetanus-laced barbed wire, every house a veritable cocoon of writhing single celled organisms waiting to feast of the nebulous of a poor child's brain matter. I used to have panic attacks wondering what ill-fate awaited me. Cancer? Bear attack? No one knew and that meant it could be anything.
As I grew older, I decided to work myself through this little problem because, frankly, calling your mother because you think you have Herpes when you are in fact, simply allergic to strawberry flavored condoms is an event that should only happen once in a person's lifetime and it makes for a stupid fucking joke at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. I learned to deal with this issue, not by becoming more cautious however, but by simply evaluating what options would be available to me should such and such a disaster actually occur. I found that most problems could be borne if not entirely tolerated. There are children dying of malnutrition and poverty around the world. I can't let myself get away with complaining when whatever years I've lived have been primarily comfortable ones.
This rationalization aside, neurosis can be humorous.
Episode 2~ A mix that gets you drunk, only you feel like wrestling a shark!
The girl looks back and agrees; the bags are tearing and clothing or the Women's Shelter may soon fly out onto the highway. "I could totally jet through this window" she says, certain that the girl driving will tell her that it's too dangerous or something equally mundane and hampering to one's style.
"I think you should do it." she says. "Only I'll have to relinquish my driving for a moment to take a picture"...
Even better. This same girl later confides that she still has feelings for her ex., a buxom brunette that works the front desk and dates some child with a bunch of shitty tattoos and a hipster haircut (as if this girl were one to talk)...She offered to take the new girlfriend down, provided someone powered her up with vodka and red-bull beforehand. Not because she disliked the girlfriend at all but just because she didn't give a lick about her otherwise and as someone said, she probably deserved it, "...because she is a black hole of souless-ness and drains other people's good energy like a vortex of Suck"
Anyway, later that night, after several hours of listening to heartbreaking and inspiring tales from the horse's mouth of feminine despair in an unfair crack-ridden world, and then drinking iced coffee and playing Sorry (irony abounds), she gets home to discover a few small bumps on her leg. No big deal. Ant bites perhaps. Over the course of the following week these few bumps spread, becoming small itchy boils. Some are swelling and turning purple. Hydrocortisone cream proves useless. She moves into Calamine lotion with slight improvement and begins downing 8 aspirin a shot in order to walk to class.
Joke: She thought she'd finally landed a job that had no specific dress code and now she spends 30 minutes before work applying her 'stage make-up' to cover all the bumps and patches of discoloration.... But she still gets paid 15$ an hour to stand around bruised and naked.
Next Episode: High-Five Forever!!!
Episode 1~ My life is a fun house adventure filled with broken glass and old shoe boxes.
Personal factoid: I am a hypochondriac. This means if I get a cold, it's Tuberculosis. If I get a rash, first sign of Aids. Numerous bruises, blood clotting disorder; bleeding gums, Leukemia; black out drunk, Multiple Personality Disorder/ reason to assume I may have come into contact with AIDS. Loss of vision, Glaucoma. Infected scratch, Necrotizing Fasciitis (better know as flesh-eating bacteria). Swollen lymph nodes? Cat Scratch Fever...and AIDS.
I am not crazy when I say that this is entirely due to my father's insightful upbringing. Imagine any bizarre way a person could possibly 'bite the big one' and my father remembers someone who died in exactly if not slightly more gruesome a fashion by first and last name, year, age, and their grades in high school. His world, and vicariously mine, was filled with black widows, coral snakes, flipping cars, collapsing buildings, knife wielding neighbors, rabid kittens, encephalitic ponies, exploding organs and intestinal worms spawned from junk food a la 'newt from the fire' creationism. Every field was a land mine of Tetanus-laced barbed wire, every house a veritable cocoon of writhing single celled organisms waiting to feast of the nebulous of a poor child's brain matter. I used to have panic attacks wondering what ill-fate awaited me. Cancer? Bear attack? No one knew and that meant it could be anything.
As I grew older, I decided to work myself through this little problem because, frankly, calling your mother because you think you have Herpes when you are in fact, simply allergic to strawberry flavored condoms is an event that should only happen once in a person's lifetime and it makes for a stupid fucking joke at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. I learned to deal with this issue, not by becoming more cautious however, but by simply evaluating what options would be available to me should such and such a disaster actually occur. I found that most problems could be borne if not entirely tolerated. There are children dying of malnutrition and poverty around the world. I can't let myself get away with complaining when whatever years I've lived have been primarily comfortable ones.
This rationalization aside, neurosis can be humorous.
Episode 2~ A mix that gets you drunk, only you feel like wrestling a shark!
The girl looks back and agrees; the bags are tearing and clothing or the Women's Shelter may soon fly out onto the highway. "I could totally jet through this window" she says, certain that the girl driving will tell her that it's too dangerous or something equally mundane and hampering to one's style.
"I think you should do it." she says. "Only I'll have to relinquish my driving for a moment to take a picture"...
Even better. This same girl later confides that she still has feelings for her ex., a buxom brunette that works the front desk and dates some child with a bunch of shitty tattoos and a hipster haircut (as if this girl were one to talk)...She offered to take the new girlfriend down, provided someone powered her up with vodka and red-bull beforehand. Not because she disliked the girlfriend at all but just because she didn't give a lick about her otherwise and as someone said, she probably deserved it, "...because she is a black hole of souless-ness and drains other people's good energy like a vortex of Suck"
Anyway, later that night, after several hours of listening to heartbreaking and inspiring tales from the horse's mouth of feminine despair in an unfair crack-ridden world, and then drinking iced coffee and playing Sorry (irony abounds), she gets home to discover a few small bumps on her leg. No big deal. Ant bites perhaps. Over the course of the following week these few bumps spread, becoming small itchy boils. Some are swelling and turning purple. Hydrocortisone cream proves useless. She moves into Calamine lotion with slight improvement and begins downing 8 aspirin a shot in order to walk to class.
Joke: She thought she'd finally landed a job that had no specific dress code and now she spends 30 minutes before work applying her 'stage make-up' to cover all the bumps and patches of discoloration.... But she still gets paid 15$ an hour to stand around bruised and naked.
Next Episode: High-Five Forever!!!
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
gayballs:
Oh my. The very prospect makes me sticky with glee.
froggin:
we sure come up with imaginative was to have life go wrong and the strategies to address these and so little imaginative time of how life might go well and what we can do to make that happen...