Tag Archives: parasite

Content Challenge already challenging

Uncategorized,

Sometimes you have good intentions of writing something really funny and relevant, you know, for the first time in your entire life, but it just doesn’t happen. You go to Content Challenge with the army you have, and sometimes that army is in a really bad mood and doesn’t want to make fajitas for dinner. Sure, all the ingredients for fajitas except a few are in the fridge, and an end product of fajitas makes more sense than anything else the army could put together, but the army just doesn’t fucking feel like fucking fajitas, OK?

The army considers defecting and sits down on the floor and covers its face and says “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I could kill with my bare hands. I am going to just sit here and be very quiet to avoid that.” Then Donald Rumsfeld says “It’s OK, baby, let’s go out.” And then the army sniffles and says “But we’re supposed to be saving moneyyyyyyy.” Donald Rumsfeld sagely reminds the army that the army could get one of those huge dill pickles it likes so much. The army doesn’t defect after all, but it does stay up half the night drinking water on account of the pickle.

I got nothing, but that never stopped me before.

Uncategorized, , ,

I think I’ll make January into another Content Challenge. Way to start a week into the month! I’m an army of one, unless someone else wants to get in on this. I remain mildly disturbed yet titillated by all the ads for that new faux snuff film, Hostel. (Nasty stills, if you are so inclined – sort of Abu Ghraib meets Motel Hell). I read that there’s a joke about the political situation in Slovakia in the set up for luring the hapless college slobs to slaughter, but the hapless college slobs seeing the movie are like to miss it. But then I know people who staunchly believe that Czechoslovakia became Chechnya. The US government is probably avidly screening this film now that they don’t torture anyone, no how, no way, no sirree. Pissa!!!!! Just having to think of the government reminds me that the only way I got out of 2005 without a recurrence of major depression was by watching no news but The Daily Show. I like my ridiculous world affairs with built-in eyerolling so I don’t have to strain myself.

Back at my own personal chamber of horrors, Saab conceded that I could install a Subaru part, but they cannot tell me exactly which model would be appropriate. I also received another customer satisfaction survey in the mail. I am torn between peeing on it myself, or mailing them something from the litterbox. I think I’ll keep the logo blanket they sent. I can stretch it over the car to keep the snow out when the glass finally caves. cf. what Laura Ingalls Wilder Would Do.

I also had blood drawn, which I totally love. Wish they’d let me do it myself. The purpose is to see if the parasite has all appropriate chromosomes. Apparently one is supposed to assume one is at the brink of peril throughout one’s parasite hosting career. I noticed later that the receptionist seems to have put the wrong dates on the lab orders, which will likely skew the results. “Hello? You’re having a Johhny Knoxville. Your baby is also unable to locate Chechnya on a map.” Can’t wait for that call.

The one about the customer service indignity and my related suffering that goes on in my dumb life here in America with all the paperwork and confusion and general bougie peril

Uncategorized, ,

Oh damn if I aint been on the phone all day talking to people who can’t really help me. I saved a boatload by switching car insurance. I didn’t know this was possible in Massachusetts. So I told them we lived in New Hampshire. Apparently it gets cheaper to insure your car if you also insure your secret underground SCUBA lair while you’re at it. At least I am banking on the lair being underwater at some point since I had to get all that flood insurance. I did opt out of earthquake insurance even though we live on a fault line.

The parasite is gumming my lower abdomen. It’s a weird feeling, and I am envisioning one of those aquarium cleaning snails just skulking around in there. Yup, hoover that plankton, sweetie. It seemed to relish it when I yelled at the Saab customer service people for telling me they can’t possibly scare up a new windshield to replace the cracked one. I was told to put in a Subaru windshield. Seems we really got a Subaru with an enamel Liger slapped on it. I did not pick this car, let’s just say. I called the leasing agent to see if this voids the warranty, and yes, it does, but since they haven’t managed to produce a properly branded windshield in the last seven months, we are at an impasse. At least they were nice enough to fudge the last state inspection. I feel very safe, let me tell you. Must be the 4-wheel drive.

Usually I do start with strongly worded somewhat witty letters, but this time it felt right to go straight to screaming “This is unacceptable!”

Today in cats: the cat is scratching something in a fit of pique. At least she finally got off her ass and booked the movers.
Tonight in eating: a casserole dish of melted cheese, seasoned with box of wine

My snout is cold and wet like that of a basset hound

Uncategorized, , , ,

Current mood: EAT EAT EAT

Current music: something catchy from Aimee Mann about being a sad drunk at christmas
Current terror level: financial, existential

I am talking to a flooring company about doing something to some floors. Their slogan is “A walk in the woods brought home.” For some reason, I’m picturing something involving ticks or lice. I should just gnaw my own floors like a beaver.

Earlier, I was eating leftover lasagna, and I had to ask the question “Hey, are you gonna barf on the bed?” And the answer was a barf. Thanks, cat. Luckily I caught it in a bowl, but this meant I couldn’t finish the lasagna. Problems: we all have them. Why was I eating near a bed anyway? It was the office bed. Don’t you have one? There was a time when I had to sleep under my desk, like peasant. But no more! Sometimes I take calls on the floor, but that’s just because I can.

What else can I do? So far today, I’ve been offended by the internets, and I’ve thought it was Wednesday. The parasite is bumping into walls, so I’m guessing it is offended by the internets as well. Or maybe it just wants to hear “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” again. Several people have expressed trepidation that the name “parasite” might give the little bugger the idea that it’s unwanted. Not unwanted. Shocking, sure. So from now on, I guess I’ll call it Montecore. Name that parasite!

A la douche

Uncategorized,

I recently horrified my sister by telling her that my father has purchased a bidet for the ancestral hovel. But he cheaped out and refused to spend the extra $300 to get the model with the heated seat and air-drying component. If you’re going to have a plumber come to your home and tear things apart, why not go totally ridiculous? I was really looking forward to pretending I was in Japan while home for visits, but this is not to be.

I hate that I come from a long line of proponents of the half-assed. Planting a garden turns into a few scraggly tomato plants in the front yard. Fencing the yard turns into chicken wire. Dropping out of society turns into ten years of glorified camping and small animal murder. Homeschooling turns into eating dirt and getting smacked as a study aid. We are not doers. We are imagineers! And right now, I am imagining that there are more croissants in the kitchen. There aren’t. Life is filled with disappointments. At least I don’t have crippling existentialism this year! Instead, I have a parasite, and I’ve officially become a second class citizen.

This post is titled Damn but I could go for some raclette

Uncategorized, , , ,

Christ, it’s Monday again. There was a holiday dinner, and I survived the gauntlet of one billion hugs. The mashed potatoes were instant, and I almost ran screaming into the cold when I found out, but I toughed it out and ate them anyway. Mr. H’s Indian co-workers livened up the proceedings by graciously enduring inadvertent racial slurs. I am pretty sure they took pictures of the carpeted kitchen.

This week my pants don’t fit. I can’t tell if it’s because I am genuinely obese or because the parasite made a major land grab. We’ve been getting quotes for hardwood floor installation (yes, I know people do this themselves, but that’s people), and this has been a humiliating process, reminding me that we have no money. Between that and my rope belt, I feel myself entering a Shame Spiral.

Also, I broke the internet yesterday. Word to the wise: the reset button on a DSL modem is hard to press for a reason. My inner monkey tried power on/power off a few times, but then she stuck a pencil in the reset hole, figuring this must fix internet good. It didn’t. A smarter monkey would have just signed “Put lipstick on cat OK please cake.”

Nancy Drew and the case of why I am so damn stupid

Uncategorized, , ,

I woke up this morning, went about my breakfast and second breakfast routine, and yet I felt too ill to properly enjoy elevensies. I was going to blame the parasite, and I stormed into the kitchen to get the melon baller to have it out once and for all.

But then I noticed the half-filled French press on the counter. That could only mean that Mr H did not make coffee in the coffee maker this morning. Yet I drank coffee from the coffee maker, and I wondered why it was cold. I just thought he must have made it earlier than usual. I’m not one to complain, so I just microwaved what was in the pot and added honey and soy creamer. The parasite is laughing at me now, saying “I told you so!” Except it most certainly did not tell me. It sat idly by, chortling, while I sipped day old coffee. Misery! I am not going to swallow Thanksgiving dinner. I am going to chew n’ spit. That’ll teach it. “Mmmm, isn’t this greenbean casserole delicious? Oh, you’ll never know. That’s too bad.”

DJ SSpace JaMM

Uncategorized, , , ,

I went for walkies, and I was not disappointed, despite the burden of physical activity. I saw police action, the super obese, an albino, incomprehensible business cards, and teen satanists. Not bad for an hour.

While I was getting my hair blown out on Thursday, the parasite said mean things about nearly everyone else in the salon. Then it wanted a croissant. I can’t take my inner monologue anywhere.

In other leaving the house news, the other day, I went to the grocery store and ran into ALEX, ALEX, DAMMIT, and his loathsome sock of a mother. This time ALEX was pretending to be a fire engine. “Reeeeoooooooooo!” I stuck out my leg and blocked him from passing me, and I asked “Do you see anyone else in here acting like this?” The man stocking bulk mayonaise said “YEAH, DO YOU?” ALEX was stymied for a second. But the local retarded fellow who thinks he is also a fire engine came in, and my argument quickly took on water. There is nothing to do but stop eating groceries.

Still you won’t suspect me

Uncategorized, , , ,

Oh, hey, I have a blog. I just can’t shake it. Like the bird flu. Like the parasite. Actually, I’m booking a vacation, or rather my assistant is. The parasite has no idea that I’m going to drown it off the coast of Tortola. What? Those things don’t breathe air? Now you tell me; I already blew the miles. Oh well. I’m sure we’ll be quite the sight on the beach, as it makes me request pineapple drink after pineapple drink… “and could you add a roasted suckling pig to that one, waiter?”

Other than those expertly laid plans, not much is new. I’m dreaming exclusively in Roxy Music, which is a little weird. In every dream home, a vanity is poorly installed. The new place suffers from some vexing construction issues, let’s say. I am not sure if we will actually move in. Hey, wanna buy an apartment in a flood zone? I’ll throw in the parasite, and this floor lamp from Target. Cheap!

It rubs the lotion on its skin

Uncategorized, , , , ,

Yesterday the parasite and I took a voyage au train. The parasite has been hanging around making me ill for weeks, and now it has started speaking to me. Perfectly logical, I suppose. Stockholm Syndrome.

It told me that this girl sitting in front of us looked like Soccah Stah Mia Hamm, wife of Nomah. And she sort of did, except she was wearing fake Vuitton sunglasses and a blazer that appeared to come from Sears. Then Mia Hamm put on headphones, and the parasite and I recoiled at the sound of tinny audible fiddle music.

At the parasite’s behest, I took my gum out and stuck it on her headrest. She leaned back to enjoy her fiddle, and I popped an Altoid in my mouth in case my minty breath should implicate me when she discovered the gum. “Dirty deeds done dirt cheap,” crooned the parasite. I became excited because it’s so hard to find a reliable dirty deed provider in the first place. Maybe the parasite isn’t so bad. We could achieve symbiosis instead of a host/guest relationship. I am not about to put out soap shaped like seashells. Or fancy towels. No suh.

Although it did encourage me to vomit on Mia Hamm as well. I bribed it with a granola bar and the promise of leftover risotto, and it took its patter of villainous invective down to a dull mutter during my meetings. I’m still not above making an appointment with Science to have it removed if it doesn’t straighten up.