So my mother has... a certain... special gift.
(SIGH)
Okay, so my mother has a knack for something absolutely abhorrently terrible. It has to do with my grampa. These are things that she has said to him:
"So what do you think about that kidnapping case?"
"So Cathy said she'd come to visit this fall... You know, when you move up here?"
"I don't know, I think they're building a Mosque in our neighborhood."
I guess she does this because, I DON'T KNOW, she seems to remember my grampa having a history of acting like a calm and conciliate companion for controversial and complicated conversations?* (Key words there, if you don't know my grampa, are Kidnapping, Move Up Here, and Mosque. God only knows what possessed her to say Mosque. She could've said A Gas Station, A Target, or the all powerful I Don't Know.)
*That's some kick ass alliteration right there, if you didn't notice. ENGLISH 12 POETRY UNIT, HERE I COME!
Moving on.
So the story I'm about to share with you happened right after incident #2 in the example list. I won't go into details, but it involved my grampa forgetting about his insurance covering assisted living (for the umpteenth time) and us trying quickly to recover (FOR THE) and remind him (UMPTEENTH) that he's not paying for it (TIME.).
As soon as the shouting started, I bolted. Overcome by the pressure of my small teenage world, I burst into tears. Gina came over and was all like, "Oh hai?" and then we talked and laughed and lightened up. But one of the things she mentioned to me was "This would be a good night to curl up with some headphones." and in jest, "Steff needs a beer." Now, combine this with my mom's advice. ("I'm sorry you're feeling down. Sometimes we all need a - Ohmygosh, you need to wash your feet, your feet are black. Dan - Dan. Come see her feet. See how black they are.") And so, beer+computerspeakers+footbrush+bubbles followed. Makings of a good night, no?
So I'm just going to share some wisdom with you, here. You will never feel more vulnerable then you do in a bathtub. I don't know if it's because of the myriad of horror films (The Shining, Mirrors, What Lies Beneath, Psycho) or whatever, but everytime you turn off the water and settle into the opaque bubbles, you accept that there is probably a sudden 10% increase in the chances of you getting raped, kidnapped, stabbed, your jaw getting ripped apart (Mirrors, holy shit). All of this plus my second beer of the day? Now it's 20%.
So I have my music going for my relaxing bubbledeath, and it's pretty damn reposeful. (Check it out - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzX350VPIqc, please ignore the geekiness.) So my random playlist of Zelda songs ramble on, leaving me in pixelated perfumed pastures and rasturized rambling rivers. And then, out of no where, this happens.
(And at this point I have pretty much embraced death.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGxGD5Y9uWY
Keep in mind that as I am in a tub, I can not change the song, so I sit and listen to the whole thing. Petrified. Please listen till the end, it gets wicked creepy.
I'm never taking another bath.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
HHLCD Awareness: What YOU can do to help
Internet Health Journal
Entry One
By Dr. Livingston (I presume?)
Good evening, colleagues. A matter was recently brought to my attention regarding a new syndrome in young people causing widespread panic. It's called HHLCD, or more commonly, Haters with Huge Lung Capacity Disorder. See here the issue in a most dangerous example, recently seen on an Internet discussion about Tila Tequila*:
"no u probly look and act like u live on a street corner and u dont know her personally so u have no right to say stuff like that use the saying dont judge a book by its cover judge it by whats in the inside and still that saying is wrong cuz whats on the inside is her personality and thats not your life to live its her and maybe you shuld have more respect for othersand if you are going to be rude like that behind her back then i guess you have enough courage to say it to her face and let her rough you up alittle"
As you can see, the poor girl in question (<3~malibuchikXX) clearly lost consciousness before finishing her rambling opinion.
Fortunately for today's youth, I have spent many hours in my study and my basement laboratory and have successfully procured a solution! My prescription is as follows:
Three hours a week exposure to respectful society (museums, libraries, national parks, etc)
and about 13 commas and periods per day
(if they don't like swallowing punctuation, try mashing them up in applesauce).
*TILA TEQUELA!?
Entry One
By Dr. Livingston (I presume?)
Good evening, colleagues. A matter was recently brought to my attention regarding a new syndrome in young people causing widespread panic. It's called HHLCD, or more commonly, Haters with Huge Lung Capacity Disorder. See here the issue in a most dangerous example, recently seen on an Internet discussion about Tila Tequila*:
"no u probly look and act like u live on a street corner and u dont know her personally so u have no right to say stuff like that use the saying dont judge a book by its cover judge it by whats in the inside and still that saying is wrong cuz whats on the inside is her personality and thats not your life to live its her and maybe you shuld have more respect for othersand if you are going to be rude like that behind her back then i guess you have enough courage to say it to her face and let her rough you up alittle"
As you can see, the poor girl in question (<3~malibuchikXX) clearly lost consciousness before finishing her rambling opinion.
Fortunately for today's youth, I have spent many hours in my study and my basement laboratory and have successfully procured a solution! My prescription is as follows:
Three hours a week exposure to respectful society (museums, libraries, national parks, etc)
and about 13 commas and periods per day
(if they don't like swallowing punctuation, try mashing them up in applesauce).
*TILA TEQUELA!?
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