I've been out of sorts the past few days. Sometimes it hurts to think. Sometimes I have no patience. Sometimes I overreact to the most ridiculous, benign things. I've been on the 'roids, you see. And I've got the PMS. In other words, I have been an absolute beast. As my Scottish mum would say, I've been walking around with a face tripping me. That's a more charming way of saying I look pissed all the time. I would even go so far as to say that I have a deranged, murderous look about me this week.
But I only need to pop two more of these bad boys and then I'm done! I'm starting to feel better. I'm still pissy and tired but not nearly as bad as before. The first round of blood tests showed nothing abnormal but I will need to get my skin poked and prodded by an allergist to see what exactly inflated my appendages to NBA regulation size. The mystery continues...
Dude, I don't know how people take oral steroids regularly. As an asthmatic, I have to inhale steroids daily to keep my lungs and passageways open but the side effects are nothing compared to those that accompany the pill form. Say, what's the word on Jerry Lewis? I know he's twice the man he used to be size-wise but do we know if he's become a chronic raving lunatic as a result of his daily pill popping? If his reaction is anything like mine, that professor is as insufferable as he is nutty. In fact, I bet Jerry Lewis is a real dick... through no fault of his own, of course. It's the meds, man. The meds.
But if there's one upside to my altered personality, it's the rather aggressive response I had to a bug in my Tiny Wee Studio this week. The minute I saw it scuttle across the floor, I went into instant attack mode. Normally, I stand on a chair or my coffee table and panic while I try to summon the courage to kill the bastard. I'm quite proud of my swift response this time around.
If my past battles with bugs have taught me anything, it's that less is more when it comes to Raid. You don't need to saturate the thing to kill it. A quick spray and some patience will do the trick. So after two economical blasts, I waited for the bug to kick off and die. But! Instead of scurrying into a corner, he tried seeking refuge in my laundry basket of clean clothes... much to my horror! Um, you DO NOT fuck with my clean clothes or, however indirectly, my carefully hoarded stash of laundry quarters for you will be spittin' Chicklets if you do.
I knew the spray would eventually take effect but the idea of that little turd getting all comfy in the crotch of my clean undies cut short my plan to be patient. So I got myself some tongs from the kitchen, climbed up on the coffee table, assumed a squat position and emptied out the laundry basket onto the floor. I methodically sifted through the contents with the tongs in one hand and Raid in the other. Much to my dismay, there was no bug to be found.
That made me uneasy. I am the quintessential Doubting Thomas -- I NEED to see the body to believe. So I put on my sandals and maintained a safe distance from dark corners and other hiding places and went about locating the perp with a flashlight. I credit the 'roids with giving me the courage to go on this little Stand By Me-type excursion while wearing nothing more than a t-shirt, underwear and open-toed slides. I normally suit up in thick-soled shoes/sneakers and more sensible leg attire but my new-found aggression dictated that I make like a Minuteman and do battle as is. While red, lacy little-boy-short undies are cute, in retrospect, I hardly struck an intimidating pose. Cute maybe but not certainly not intimidating. Perhaps that's why the bug opted to burrow into to my clean skivvies. Maybe he liked the pair I was donning and was looking for something similar to bring back to the nest for the missus.
So I searched for a good 20 minutes before I finally found the bastard belly up and twitching near my dresser. Cue the 'roid rage! I began YELLING at the bug while teasing him with intermittent blasts of bright light and Raid. "Tell your friends, motherfucker!" ::squirt squirt:: "Tell your friends!" ::agitated waving of flashlight::
Of course, there was no way the bug could go back home and warn its brethren to forever steer clear of the curly-haired psycho's apartment but torturing that little shit until his last gasp made me feel powerful and invincible. It felt like a symbolic slaying or something. Of course when I recovered from my murderous rage, I felt a bit sheepish as I recalled my reading the riot act to a double-bagged lifeless insect. But the thrill of the kill and the hope that other bugs witnessed and learned from the carnage quickly made the embarrassment fade away.
Mmm... blood lust.
