Baby Robot Octopus

Alright, I am about to do something I have never done yet on this blog. I am going to show you a semi-sexy picture of myself. I am really nervous about posting it. but I want you all to get what I am saying here. Please be kind in the comments, at least about my body. Feel free to be dicks about everything else.

 

After every heart surgery, and still at random intervals even now, I have to wear a portable heart monitor. This thing looks like a baby robot octopus attacking my chest. It’s how I have always imagined it.

It actually looks like an iPod until it is attached.

The first time the nurse tried attaching it to me, I wrapped the cords around my neck and pretended it was choking me. I was shouting and fighting it off like a hero.

Oh god, it has me in it’s slimy grasp!

She was not amused. She was a tough older Russian lady. She was clinical, cold, and very unfriendly. I was a little bit intimidated.

 

Until I turned around to assist her in attaching this thing to me. Apparently, I was the first person to ever help her attach it to me. I was dumbfounded. I was just being courteous. I mean, she wasn’t my servant, she was my nurse. But after that, and ever since, she has always been very kind to me. She still doesn’t think I am funny, though.

 

The way this thing works is that there is a small box, about the size of a deck of cards. It has a green light and four leads that come out of it. The leads are wires with snaps on them. The snaps attach to half dollar size stickers that attach to your body.

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So, this is how it looks attached. Fun bonus for you guys, you can totally see my third nipple here.

The real issue is that you can’t shower while wearing this. And you have to wear it for 24-48 hours. I work a pretty physical job, in Florida. That means lots of sweating.

 

Not only do I smell bad, but the leads can come unstuck. The trick to keeping them stuck to you is two things: sandpaper tape to rub off the top layer of skin and hair, and a skin safe epoxy to keep them extra stuck.

 

The problem with those two options is that I have EXTREMELY sensitive skin. I have a mild form of dermatographia.

Mine is not quite this bad, but I do have a future story about it.

Also, as mentioned here; I am allergic to everything. This means that by the time the leads are attached, my skin is angry and irritated like a huge blotchy rash. It also means that when they are removed I have giant scabs, like I really have been attacked by an octopus.

 

 

 

 

Yeah, it looks exactly like that.

So they rub my skin raw, coat the raw skin with epoxy, and then coat it with a lead patch. They take the actual device and put it either in a halter mount, for men, or in your bra, for women. I don’t know why they cram it in there, I mean, my bra is already being used to hold my boobs. But that’s where it has to go for some reason. And you can’t remove the bra to sleep either. That is super uncomfortable all night.

 

When wearing these leads, I have to keep a journal of everything that I do and also any symptoms I feel. I like to make that fun for the people reading it, which I suppose is my cardiologist.

 

Here is an example of what I like to put (just so you know, all these examples are true things that happened):

 

6:30pm-7:00pm eating dinner (I eat really fast and food excites me, don’t be surprised to see palpitations here).

 

8:00pm-8:15pm sponge bath (bow chicka bow wow).

 

10:30pm-10:40pm I thought I saw a roach and freaked out, but it turned out to be a very roach realistic woodgrain pattern in my new wood floors (definite palpitations).

 

3:27am-3:45am I had a dream I was in an abandoned construction site fighting a zombie horde (definite palpitations).

7:00am-7:05am really hot guy smiled at me and I accidentally punched myself in the face trying to put on my seatbelt (possible pounding heartbeat).

 

After the allotted time, I would go back to see my nurse and she removes all the leads. She tries to do it carefully, but it doesn’t really matter. I usually remove my bra while still in the office. It peels off like a used band-aid. Then I drive immediately home and shower. And wash my bra.


The giant sucker marks generally go away after a week or two.

Fight or Flight

When I was ten we had moved to a new city. I was inexplicably popular, and briefly cute,  and made friends with H. She was everything I wanted to be and knew I never would be. She was short and tiny and feminine with long dirty blonde hair that was straight and shiny and swung like a rope when she ran.

 

She was basically Rapunzel.

 

Whereas I was already taller than both my parents and have thick, dark hair that never, never, never does what I want it to. I was tomboyish and awkward and painfully thin.

 

This is not my hair, but may as well be.

 

She was an amazing artist. Everyone loved her. I was instantly drawn in. I still don’t know what she saw in me. Up till that point I was kind of a silent shadow. Never participating in class. Just reading in the back; I barely spoke to anyone. I looked through everyone and they looked through me.

 

H only had one sibling and her family had money. Looking back, they were probably only middle class, but comparatively, she was rich. Her family bought her junk food, she had a phone and TV in her bedroom. They went on actual vacations, like people in movies.

 

She was my best friend for most of that year and we spent a lot of time together. She was a very bad influence on me. My parents hated her. And no wonder.

 

I had gone from a tomboyish, friendless bookworm to a popular “bad” girl. Boys came over to hang out with me. Black boys, to my parent’s discomfort. I even stole a rose from our rich neighbor’s garden under H’s influence. You would have thought I had committed some kind of blood worship, ritual sacrifice when my parents found out about that one.

 

I literally realized just now that this experience may be why I hate roses. Plus, I think they try too hard. They are all like, “look at me, I’m gorgeous and smell like an expensive call girl.”

Her dad would pick us up from school and take us to his store. He owned a reptile and amphibian store. I think this was the reason why we became such good friends. That shop was a great place to spend a few formative years.

 

He’d let us feed the snakes. Some of them ate little pink newborn mice. Some would eat the adorable white mice that we’d play with before using them as food. Some of them ate crickets or silkworm larvae that we’d pull from a nightmarish wriggling mass in the back.

Silkworm larvae are not just for snakes, I hear they taste good.

And then we’d watch them eat. It was fascinating.

 

That snake is so happy and smiley.

He had an albino python. And the most fucking adorable caiman ever! There were all sorts of giant snakes and frogs that we weren’t allowed to touch. I can still smell that snake smell and hear the hum of lights in the aquariums.

 

 

It’s hugging him while he reads.

Caiman are the puppies of the Alligatoridae family.

 

One day, I went over to visit her. She had an excited look on her face and a gleam in her eyes. It was a sure sign that she was planning something that would get us into trouble.

 

She told me that her father had gotten some new pets that he was going to sell. He was keeping them in the backyard. Did I want to go see them?

 

Being friends with someone more popular than you is kind of like performing improv. To move the plot ahead, you kind of had to say ‘yes’ to everything. So I did.

 

The backyard at her house was tiny. Nobody ever went out there. It was ‘L’ shaped and about 600 square feet.

 

I opened her back door and walked out, expecting to see some cages set up. I mean, it’s not like he would keep snakes or alligators just out in the open, right?

 

But there were no cages. And then I realized she had closed the door behind me without following me out. I turned and looked in the window at her. “H? Aren’t you coming out?” I called in through the closed door.

 

“No!”

 

I looked around. I heard running coming from around the corner. I didn’t have time to try to get away. To be honest, my brain couldn’t even register what I was seeing.

 

It was three giant birds. They were taller than I was. They looked kind of like ostriches, but they weren’t ostriches. I didn’t know what the hell they were. And I didn’t care.

RUN!

When you are unexpectedly attacked by giant birds, you aren’t worried about semantics. That first bird came at me and I panicked. I was merely trying to keep it from pecking out my eyes, but I accidentally slapped it.

 

Far from deterring it, my aggression only seemed to incite it more. Fortunately, H had seen me hit her father’s birds and opened the door and let me in.


I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t. I suspect I would have killed all three of those emus. Even back then, I was a good fighter.

Emus, much like horses and parrots, are assholes.

 

Accented

Back when I lived in Miami, I ate a lot of food. It was my first time away from my parents. It was the first time I could buy exactly what I wanted. And I ate what I wanted, whatever that meant.

 

Usually, it meant a lot of chocolate and fried foods. That was something we almost never had growing up. We rarely ate out. We rarely even ate pre-packaged foods.

 

For example, things like McDonald’s, and Taco Bell, and Chef Boyardee, and Fruit Loops; I didn’t have until I was an adult. So you can imagine, I went a little overboard when I moved out. I actually gained about 20 (much needed) pounds in just a few months.

I’ve still never eaten most of these things.

Every Friday I would cash my paycheck and go to this seafood restaurant. The only seafood I like is fried clams. And I fucking love fried clams. So, I’d eat my big plate of fried (as I always call it). Fried clams and french fries with ketchup, which is almost a food group for me.

 

I really shouldn’t have Googled this at this time of night. It has awoken a hunger in me that can only be slain by fried clams.

After a few weeks, I was more or less a regular to the restaurant. I kept getting the same, VERY unfriendly waitress. She was much older and was very rude to me. She would talk to me as though I were stupid and sometimes I would see her eyeing me suspiciously from across the restaurant.

 

I generally ignored this. I mean, it was probably my imagination. I had done nothing to her. I was an excellent tipper. And I tried to not be too demanding. But her dislike for me was unmistakable.

 

One day, after going there maybe six or seven times, the waitress came up to me. With a forced casualness she asked, “So, where are you from?”

 

“Here?” I answered slowly. I thought maybe she thought I was a tourist.

 

“No, I mean, where did you grow up?” She was looking at me with open suspicion.

 

“Florida.” I was really confused now.

 

“Where are you originally from? Where were you born?” She was getting impatient with me now. Like I was hiding something from her.

 

“I was born in Florida.” I can be very thick and I was still not getting it.

 

“Where are your parents from?” She was up in my personal space now. Grilling me.

Now I’m hungry and just posting random pictures of fried food.

That’s when I finally got where she was going with this. “Well, my mother was born in Florida. My father is from Ohio. Why?”

 

“I don’t like you coming in here. I can hardly understand you when you order. You have a very thick accent. I know you aren’t American.”

 

Readers, some of you know me in real life. I don’t even have a Florida accent, let alone a foreign accent. But I am very used to this type of reaction.

 

However, this woman was the worst. She refused to believe I was from this country. And she made several comments to me about how “dark” I am. (I hear I look like various non-white groups all the time, usually Hispanic).

 

Finally, I “confessed” that I was from Czechoslovakia (it just popped in my head). She triumphantly exclaimed that she knew I had been lying and went back to being rude and giving me the evil eye.

Did you guys know that I eat fried foods when I am stressed? It helps.

But she had made me so uncomfortable and unwelcome that I never went back to that restaurant again. I am older now and would probably report someone that treated me that way, but I was 17 and so unsure of myself.

 

I have been told for my entire life that I have an accent. As you all may recall, I had to learn to speak English as a child due to an accident.

 

In high school I was at a my boyfriend’s guardian’s party. Someone sat down and chatted with me for 10 minutes before interrupting our conversation to tell me “You speak very good English.”

 

To which I idiotically replied, “Thanks.”

Now I am just torturing myself.

I found out later they thought I was also a German exchange student, like my boyfriend.

 

And at my current job, I have customer’s asking me all the time if I am Canadian or European. This happens on an almost weekly basis. But they usually believe me when I say I am not.

 

Book Love

I have been looking at a tumblr site awesomepeoplereading.  And it is truly awesome. Plus, it gave me the impetus I needed to talk about something I have been putting off for a while: books.

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Note to self: Books do not make comfortable pillows.

Books changed my life. I always loved to read. I knew how before I ever started school. My mother homeschooled my older siblings and as there was no sitter, we sat in on the classes. It made the first few years of school painfully slow.

 

I was always reading a book in class instead of paying attention, a habit I kept up right through high school. I never volunteered to answer anything in class, but always knew the answer when called upon (and once the question was repeated and after they finally got my attention). I am a bit of a know it all.

 

When I was 10 we moved to a house that was literally one block from the public library. I was old enough to walk there alone. And it was free. My mother gave the library permission to give me an adult card. And I have never looked back.

A whole world of grown up books was waiting for me.

I spent that whole  summer reading, and every summer after that. I would sit on our porch in the heat and rain with a glass of water or sweet tea and a bowl of snacks. I was lost in another world of some writer’s creation. I read voraciously. I could read an entire adult novel in less than a day (I still can if I have the time to).

 

So I thought I would share some of my favorite books of all time for you. I even divided them into categories. I have a lot of favorites. These are books that are so good, I bought them after I had already read them. But this is in no way extensive. Prepare yourself:

 

Series:

Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling- These books got me through my first hospital stay. There were weeks of boredom and waiting for my blood levels to be right for my first surgery. I couldn’t walk, bathe, brush my teeth. I couldn’t even use the toilet. But when I read these books, nothing existed but the world of Harry and Hogwarts. 

 

Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien – I actually read these for the first time this year. But I am obsessed with the books, story, and movies.

 

Sea of Trolls by Nancy Farmer- She is one of my favorite authors. This series is like  Harry Potter in the 11th century. It is riveting. This is one of those series that you wish there were dozens of instead of only three.

 

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams- I can’t even remember the first time I read this. Probably middle school. And I thought it was some of the funniest writing I have ever read. It still is. PS: He has other books not in this series that are somehow even better.

 

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle- Most people don’t know there are 4 books in this series. All of them are interesting and wonderful.

Childhood Favorites:

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell- This is one of the first books I can ever remember reading. It made me want to be a writer. It also is one of the most unintentionally feminist books I have ever read. It made me realize women were just as capable as men in every way.

 

The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm by Nancy Farmer- I love her so much that she gets two spots on this list. This is the first book I read by her. I loved it so much that I buy a copy every time I see one for sale. I collect them and am constantly giving them away. I think sharing a book you love with someone is one of the greatest things you can do.

 

Stone Fox by John Reynolds Gardiner- Remember reading Where the Red Ferns Grows as a kid? Did it make you cry? Not me. I loved that book, it is very good. But THIS book made me cry.

 

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery- This book will always be treasured by me. I will probably get a tattoo of it someday. I wish the whole world would read it.

 

Sign of the Seahorse by Graeme Base- All of his books are some of the most beautifully illustrated things I have ever seen. And the stories are good too.

I love his art.

Short Stories:

I have a particular love of short stories.

 

Stephen King- He is my favorite author, but my favorite things by him will always be his short stories. All his compilations are fantastic and I think they keep getting better. ‘N’ is one that really stuck with me.

 

Ray Bradbury- He got me reading and loving short stories. I remember the first thing I ever read by him. I remember reading it and feeling like my world had changed and knowing that this would be an important memory. It was ‘All Summer in a Day.’ My favorite book of all time is an 800 page compilation of his. And that is saying something. ‘The Scythe’ has influenced me in ways I can’t describe. His writing is soft and gentle and sometimes terrible and horrifying. “The Fruit at the Bottom of the Bowl’ is very reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe.

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My favorite book in the entire world. If those shelves behind me look like they are buckling under the weight, they are. Every shelf is double packed; with books on top of books too.

Phillip K Dick- This man is pure sci-fi. A friend recently compared my fiction to his and I felt this was the highest of compliments. ‘Second Generation’ is one story I can read over and over. I am sure you know his work. He wrote Bladerunner. And Minority Report. And Total Recall. And Paycheck. And A Scanner Darkly. I could go on…

 

Edgar Allen Poe- I doubt any of you are surprised that I adore this guy. My favorite thing by him ever is ‘The Raven.’ I know it is very well known and popular, but it deserves to be. I also love ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’

 

100 Little Series- There are about a dozen of these short story compilations. I have read most of them. My favorite two are 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories and 100 Vicious Little Vampire Stories. These books will challenge your concept of aliens and vampires in the best ways possible.

 

Scary Stories:

I read a lot of horror and suspense. They rarely affect me. But these stories have haunted me long after I moved on to the next book.

 

World War Z by Max Brooks- If you’ve seen the movie, forget it. This book is nothing like anything I have ever read before. It is in my top 5 all time favorite books. And I don’t even particularly like zombies. The story that stuck with me most was under the streets of France. That shit is haunting.

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I wanted A to read this so much that I read it aloud to him every night before bed.

Gerald’s Game by Stephen King- I have read everything by him and this was the book I couldn’t sleep after reading. The man in the moonlight just did me in.

 

Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood- This book does everything she intended it to do. The ending is so horrifying to me.

 

Prayer for the Dying by Stewart O’Nan- His writing is so beautiful, it is like reading poetry. But don’t let that fool you. This book is incredible and disturbing.

 

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes- This book chronicles one of my greatest fears. Need I say more?

 

1984 by George Orwell- I know there is some debate of 1984 vs Brave New World. But this book is scary because the people don’t even have the privacy of the inside of their own minds. It still gives me the shivers.

 

Comics:

I’m not too good to consider the writing and stories in comic books to be just as serious as any other medium.

 

SCUD by Rob Schrab- Have you read this? No? Read it! It is the best comic ever written. It is full of pure fucking awesomeness. And that’s all I will tell you.

 

Bone by Jeff Smith- It took me a minute to get over the weird creatures that are the main characters. But the story is too good to miss.

 

Hellboy by Mike Mignola- This was one of the comics that got me seriously into comics when I was younger. The stories are funny and weird and interesting.

 

Ghostopolis by Doug Ten Napel- He has several comics that I love, but this is one of the best. It has some interesting ideas about the afterlife.

 

Watchmen by Alan Moore- I think the movie did a great job adapting this, but you should read it anyway because the story is that good.

 

Uplifting Stories:

Life of Pi by Yann Martel- The movie is good, but the book is better. I laughed my ass off during several parts of it.

 

I thought my father was God- This is a series of short stories written by NPR listeners. They are all true, short, and interesting. This book is funny, sad, spiritual, interesting.

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I’m not wearing pants in any of these pictures. You’re welcome.

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusack- This is one of those stories that just sticks with you. I had to read it twice just to re-experience the book from the perspective of knowing the ending.

 

Widow for One Year by John Irving- I love everything by this man. Some of his books are depressing. But this is another one that snippets of just seem to stick with me. I find myself thinking of it during odd moments of my day.

 

Non-Fiction:

Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan- I love two non-fiction books over any other; food and diseases. This one is about food. It is interesting and well written.

 

Why Does He Do That by Lundy Bancroft- I wish every single woman on the planet was required to read this. It’s about abusive men and their motives. It was the single most helpful thing I have read on the subject. I intend to read it once a year for the rest of my life.

 

Gift of Fear by Gavin deBecker- This is the only other book on this list that I believe should be required reading for every woman on the planet. I have bought more than 10 copies of it because I continue to give it to people that need to read it.

 

Gaining by Aimee Liu- This is about eating disorders. It is helpful to read if you have one, are recovering from one, or know someone that has one. It is about life after an eating disorder. It made me realize I wasn’t alone with my issues.

 

The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson- This book is about cholera and the father of epidemiology and anaesthesia: Jonathan Snow. He is my hero. This is one of the best books I have read about diseases and I believe I have read them all.

 

Bonk by Mary Roach- She is hilarious and amazing and everything she writes is incredible. This book is about the study of sex. She reminds me of the bloggess. Read her, love her. She has a TedTalks about orgasms that is brilliant.

 

Honorable Mention:

These are a few favorites that I didn’t know where to put.

 

Microserfs by Douglas Coupland- I love all of his books. They are weird and funny and lovely.

 

Rant by Chuck Palahniuk- His novels are great. But I am always fascinated by the things happening in the periphery of his stories.  This is my favorite because it is about rabies and time travel and I can’t even explain what else here.

 

The Pleasure of my Company by Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin)- This book is another that will stay with you. It is amusing and sweet.

 

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson- This book was so hard for me to read. But all of her books can be. They are about the dark side of growing up. Not in some Christopher Pike, ‘my best friend is secretly a ghost’ way. Her books are more of a ‘I was raped or have an eating disorder’ kind of way. I own multiple copies of this book and even suffered through Kristen Stewart’s acting to watch the movie.

 

Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon- My favorite plot device is the unreliable narrator. And this books nails it on so many levels.

 

Marry Him by Lori Gottlieb- I went through this phase where I read every book I could find on dating. Most of them were hilarious, terrible, or hilariously terrible. This is the one that I thought was actually sensible, logical, and helpful. I don’t suffer from the issues described in this book, but I recognized many of my friends, male and female, in it’s pages.

 

And there you have it. A, by no means, exhaustive list of some of my favorite novels. Do you think I missed something? Do you have something to recommend to me? Please do so in the comments.

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BOOKS!!

 

PS I just wrote a humongous post about books. And I had to really narrow down my favorites. None of you can leave me too long of a comment. Honestly, ever. But definitely not if we are talking books.

We Hit a Bird

In school all of my friends were a bit older than me. I was the youngest in my class due to my birthday being over summer break. That meant they were all getting their licenses and driving months before I would.

 

My friend, K was seeing this guy that I didn’t really like. But we all hung out pretty often, he was older and had a car. Anyway,  he told me a superstition I had never heard before. It is apparently extremely bad luck to hit a bird with your car.

 

 

 

 

Seriously great movie. Though I do adore Hitchcock in general.

I myself am not superstitious, but I do kind of collect superstitions. I am really fascinated with them. So if any of you guys know any, feel free to share them.

She should also have some spilled salt there.

But I wasn’t sure how it was possible to even hit a bird with your car. Don’t they fly? I had never even heard of someone hitting a bird with a car.

 

A few years later T and I were living together and I was carpooling to work with him. We also worked together. I know that it is a terrible idea to date co-workers. A lesson I wish I could say I have learned. But, I am an idiot and will apparently never learn that lesson.

 

I mention T  here. It was very early in the morning, still in the grey light before the sun comes up. We were driving through a rural area.

 

I was in the passenger seat when I saw a tiny bird fly directly into the windshield. It hit the glass with a crunch right before my eyes. I knew it was dead. It had to be dead. I had heard it’s tiny little skull crack.

 

I need a bird skull ring.

 

I freaked out. I turned to T. “Oh my god! Oh my god! You hit a bird!”

 

It was stuck on the windshield. It’s feathers fluttering in the wind. “Do something, quick! Get it off!”

 

T calmly turned on the windshield wipers. But the bird was somehow stuck beneath the wiper. He smeared it’s crushed body across the length of the windshield. Along with a long rainbow of blood.

 

 

 

I couldn’t find one with blood, sorry.

“What are you doing! It’s stuck! Oh god!” I was really grossed out by this point. I’m not great with handling things so early in the morning. I was barely awake, let alone prepared for the bird carnage at this time of day.

 

By this point T was kind of grossed out too. “We killed a bird. We killed a bird.” He kept saying it over and over. But, for the record, I was an innocent passenger. I didn’t kill that bird.

 

The more he ran the wipers, the more blood he smeared across the windshield.

 

Finally, he admitted defeat. He pulled over and got shovel out of the back. He pulled the dead bird off the windshield and flung it into the woods.

I wanted to give it a proper burial. But T was in a rush to get to work. It was one of the few fights we ever actually had. The rest of that relationship was silent seething and constant misery.

He looked shaken and grey when he was done. I barely ate for the rest of the day. I kept seeing that bird hit the windshield. I kept hearing the crunch of it’s skull.


I don’t know if it gave us bad luck. I already had my weird luck long before  he hit that bird. We eventually broke up and I don’t speak to him anymore. Though I’m not sure that us breaking up was bad luck either.

July Search Terms

I know I am a few days late with this one. And my last post was a bit of a cop out too. I promise I am writing wondrous things and working on my weird crafty little projects. But here it is. This months search terms:

 

You fucking my sister: I am imagining this as being said by a young Robert De Niro. YOU fucking MY sister?!

 

The shit roach killer: Well, I don’t know if I am the shit, but let me tell you guys a quick and terrible story. It was 1am on my birthday morning. I had stayed up till midnight to be the first person to wish myself happy birthday. I woke up and felt something tickling my neck. I brushed it away, thinking it was a stray hair. I shed like a golden retriever. But it was still tickling. Moving even. I jumped up and brushed it away even harder. In the dim light I could make out a black shape crawling across my sheet. Now I was wide the fuck awake! I jumped to my lamp and grabbed my glasses. I knew it had been a giant roach on me. And I would not rest until it was found. I go looking for it and the fucker ran right at me. I freak out and grab a shoe to kill it and it magically disappears. So then, I am looking around, trying to find this thing. And I cant. So I am hunting around, frantically, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. The roach is on the ceiling now. I try to smack it down with the shoe and it flies right at my face. I try to smack it away and knock my glasses off my face. Then I hastily put them back on and it is gone again. So I am losing it now, thinking it is on me. I start mussing up my hair and it isn’t there. So I grab the front of my shirt and shake it. The roach was on my shirt! ON my shirt! Ugh. It was like a horror movie. So I crush it with the shoe (grinding it’s guts into my quilt). And all the while I am whispering “Fuck you. You fucking roach fucker.” And then I couldn’t sleep because I was so full of adrenaline and fear. And I had to take a shower and wash my sheets and my glasses. I stayed up till 6am. It wasn’t the best beginning to my birthday.

 

Cockblock perish, Venice FL: There’s a Cockblock Parish in Venice FL? Between that and the giant rats, I think I need to visit this place.

Hollow tooth from under: From under what? The stairs? The ground? It’s like the title of a Goosebumps novel.

 

Animal Zoo Vegina (sic) xray: Okay, I have to admit, this made me curious too. It is a thing.

Is it just me or does this look a lot like the ghost trap in Ghostbusters?

 

A sugar mummy fucked by his real brother: This is just, intriguing. Is it like a sugar mummy like a sugar skull from the Day of the Dead celebration? Or are you looking for porn about rich mummies?

 

I had sex with him, in an orange grove: Internet high five!

 

Apartment maggots Maine: Can you please email me this story, search term searcher? I love maggot stories!

 

Ken doll genitalia: I think Ken’s genital bump really confused a lot of little girls. And probably some boys too. What the hell Mattel?

 

An xray skeletons that spells happy birthday: You know me all too well.

 

I feel like I’m in a Twilight Zone blackside trash song: You know what, I don’t even know exactly what this mean, but me too. Me too.

 

Why men mastermate (sic) with Barbie dolls: Men; #1 Do you guys ‘mastermate’ with Barbie dolls? #2 Why?

 

“search my vagina”: I don’t know why this is in quotes, but I feel so tempted to use this at some point in the very near future.

Example:

Co-worker: Why would anyone put mustard on spaghetti? (A Co-worker did this recently and I was baffled.)

Me: Search my vagina.

 

Undead

It’s no secret that I should probably be dead. Evolutionarily, there is no real reason for my existence. In fact, if I had lived just 50 years ago, I probably would already be dead. I am merely alive through the sheer chance of science and modern medicine.

 

And that makes me undead.

I hope we have the technology to reanimate skeletons when I die. I am so in. After science has it’s way with me.

 

I am living a sort of second life. It is the life beyond what I should have lived. In all honesty, I am probably living a fourth or fifth life at this point.

 

Let’s examine the evidence:

 

I’ve had between 5 and 10 minor to major strokes. I’ve had 5 heart surgeries. Any one of those things should have killed me. Those things have killed many other people before me and will kill many more after me.

My first intentional pun!

I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs. On two separate occasions. Both of which could have resulted in a broken neck. I can only attest my surviving those incidents to my yoga and cat-like reflexes.

My reflexes are as good as this kitten’s.

I swallowed at least one, fairly large piece of glass. Which I suspect is still floating around waiting to lodge itself in some crucial organ. Like my lungs.

microscope lens

Excuse me, I just need to go swallow this real quick.

Not to mention all the things in my environment that are trying to kill me. For example, one time I brushed up against a plant at work. It had been recently sprayed with pesticides. I found out the hard way that I am allergic to them.

 

I broke out in hive all across my neck and throat. And then my face. And then my arms and hands. And then my throat started swelling so bad that I couldn’t turn my head. Or pesky other things, like breathe.

 

 

Know what’s sexy? Not hives.

I still don’t know what the pesticide was. Every once in a while, I will re-discover it and break out in hives again. It’s sort of like being a detective adventurer, except I could die.

 

Then there was the time my air conditioner broke in the middle of summer. I came home to a house that was almost 120 degrees. The AC men came out and fixed it, but after they left, I kept noticing a weird smell.

 

I let it go for a few days, but I felt like it was getting stronger, so I called them back. They said it was leaking freon, which they claim didn’t smell like anything. (Then what was I smelling, huh?!) They couldn’t fix it that day, but assured me it was no big deal. It was only harmful to people with heart problems.

 

It wound up taking them over a week to fix even after I told them I did have heart problems.

 

So, I am sick, and clumsy, and unlucky, and allergic to life. And I haven’t even mentioned my emotional problems. And I can’t even reproduce, not that I wanted to.  So why am I even alive, from an evolutionary standpoint? I really don’t know. Hopefully I am funny enough to be using up all the resources I am.

 

What about you guys? Are any of you undead too?