Thursday, July 23, 2015

Relief For You All

I don't want you to worry.

It's okay. I know some of you have been sat near the computer all day. Constantly picking up your phones. Refreshing the page for this blog. Desperately hoping for news. Any kind of update since hearing about the bug bite I got Tuesday. "Please just tell us you're okay. Please, please be alright. Oh God. Gavin you're so big."

As you can imagine I spent much of today fearing the worst. Riddled with concern that because it still itched that it meant terrible things were happening. I let my mind wander. Within minutes I'd gone from Googling photos of melted Mars bars at work to picturing the somber face of the regional news anchor on television. In between that evening's inevitable stories about an enormous meth bust and North Korean-style, glorification of the local sheriff, the news would break. Trembling, the newscaster would somberly tell everyone that I had succumbed. My mind wandered more. I imagined two people stood in an office building. One saying, "did you hear about that guy - apparently it laid eggs in him and they fed off his bone marrow." The other making the salient point that my new shoes ae absolutely fucking delicious. Moments later my mind wandered further more. "Apparently that radioactive man laid eggs in him." Oh Father, why have you forsaken me?

All of that is patent bollocks, of course. I thought that for about as long as you took to read it. Most of the morning I spent thinking about other things entirely. My afternoon was turned on it's face entirely after I asked someone on the phone what symptoms they had and they responded, "aggressive urination." All I could picture was someone running at crowds of strangers and yelling while he pissed into the air. Then being diagnosed. And handed a cork.

After that was a pet peeve of mine - someone talking to me on speakerphone with background noise. There are a few special circumstances where this is okay. But otherwise it always sounds like the person I'm talking to is trapped down a well. And I checked - that wasn't why he was calling at all. I'm compassionate after all. We've all been trapped at some point (down a well/ under a horse/ in a loveless marriage). But I get incredibly arsey when people use speakerphone and then a) complain that they can't hear me, and b) ridiculously expect me to be able to hear them - despite the fact that they're fifteen feet away from the phone. Mostly moaning that they can't hear me and could I speak up a bit. No - pick up the pissing phone. It's bad enough that I have to pretend to be American sometimes. But a loud one?! Not happening.

I have three simple rules for America.

1 - Never say the words lookit, winningest or fanny pack.
2 - Never eat anything that smells like it might have a yeast infection (everything at Subway, store-brand chicharones)
3 - Never yell in American.

Walmart Brand chicharones are both organic and now come in cheese flavour
Luckily after that I forgot entirely about men in wells and aggressive pissing. My mind rocketed back through being bitten by a radioactive man all the way back to this morning and Googling photos of Mars bars. Stopped at 7-Eleven and got one. And now Lady Margarita and I are gonna get it on. What's that Lady M? "Oh Gavin you're so big."

Oh please. I've barely begun.

No comments:

Post a Comment