Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Vulgarities At The Moment

Disclaimer: Most of this will be addressing topics and concerns of a rather disgusting nature.

My doctor recently revealed to me what the rest of the world was already certain of, that I am full of shit. It was hands down one of the most awkward moments of my life, having a doctor stare me down and condemn me for having poor digestion. You may be wondering why I'm sharing this with you, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. My doctor makes me feel uncomfortable. Well, I don't want to single him out specifically, all doctor's make me feel uncomfortable. They always have this angry parent attitude that just inflames as you slowly reveal every way in which you are a complete failure at taking care of yourself. I went to see my doctor because I was having bad stomach pains and acid reflux. Everyone without a medical degree (including myself) diagnosed it as an ulcer, because let's face it, an ulcer fits me. An ulcer just sounds like something I would have. It's perception conforms to my spastic neuroticism , anxious fiddling & twiddling, and fearful skittish eccentricities. It would almost accentuate my personality, allowing me to hold my stomach in pain, giving the occasional Woody Allen "Oh geez". As of today, I have not gotten the greenlight on the ulcer though, but rather bad reflux and the horrifying revelation that I'm not pooping enough. That raised an interesting questions though, how did we come about to establish acceptable BM guidelines? And if we have this information, why has it not been furnished to every American, especially at the critical developmental phases of our youth? I mean, I always had a ballpark guess as what a healthy BM schedule looked like, but that's in the same way I feel I could utilize the city bus system without actually reading a bus schedule. I remember 'Everybody Poops' but I guess they never got around to publishing the sequel 'Everybody Should Poop Once A Day'. My doc did find a hernia while he was at it, and since learning of that, every time I sneeze I'm convinced I'm going to compromise my manhood. Scary.

What's even more scary was the gigantic rat that terrorized my house for the last week & an a half. I first saw this beast in my driveway in my trashcan. It was rocking back and forth with the lid on, to which I could only assume it was a large cat or an unruly child. When a rat actually popped the lid off and hopped out, I stepped back and almost fall onto the hood of my car. As it rushed down the driveway, the same thought kept repeating itself in my head 'That was the biggest fucking rat I've ever seen!' And somehow, magically, like a faerie tale, it just so happened to find an access point into my crawlspace, and then work it's way actually in my house. I would awake in the morning to find picture frames knocked over, shoes rearranged, and it was only then that I made the disgusting realization that this giant rat had made it's way into my house and was messing all my shit up, maybe in an effort to psych me out, play some mind games. So, not only did I have the largest rat I've ever seen in my house, but it was a sociopath to boot.

My many years at ACO have equipped me with skills and knowledge on how to catch vermin. Also, being a life long South Warren resident, it's just something that comes natural to us in this critter infested community (much like dental aversion comes natural to the citizens of Taylor). Nothing seemed to work, it wouldn't touch the poison, avoided traps, and let's not even get into the disaster of glue traps. It certainly went into the glue trap, but it didn't stay in it, rather is dragged it halfway across my kitchen before shaking it off and leaving it sitting there in the middle of the floor covered in rat hair. It chewed tiny holes through a whole roll of paper towel. I put a saucer of bleach out and dipped some peanut butter bread in it. Wouldn't touch it. I eventaully went and bought a live catch cage (it wasn't cheap) and set it out in the kitchen with a PB & J sandwich inside of it. I thought for sure that would work. It was then that I realized there was only one thing bigger than that rat, it's sense of irony. That night I first put the cage out, it suddenly ate all the bleach bread, climbed under the house and died. The stench is revolting. Almost like it saw what I was trying to do with the cage and thumbed his nose at me "Oh, you wanna catch me alive? I see what your trying to do. No, fuck you, I'm gonna drink bleach and die under your house now. Have fun."