My Experience with Augusten Burroughs
We all know who he is, right? Author of Running with Scissors? Well, he also has a few books of essays recounting interesting moments in his life. I picked one up called Magical Thinking (wait, aren't book titles and movies supposed to be underlined? Oh, well. I don't fucking care at the moment). I've read a few of the essays, and they are interesting and amusing. So I picked it up today and continued my read.
Big mistake.
Are you one of those people who hear/read/see something and then wonder what you would do if that happened to you? I am. I am paranoid. Sometimes so paranoid I'm surprised I can leave the house.
So I begin reading, and start with the essay about the rat/thing he finds in his tub. He freaks out and kills it, and calls up his friend's boyfriend, who is a plumber. Apparently, vermin climb up through water spouts all the time. All the time. A lot of the time, they climb up and get stuck in your shower head. You could be showering through vermin. You could contract hantavirus. So of course, I go inspect my bathtub. We have very small little pipes, and for a second, I breathed a sigh of relief. And then I remembered that vermin have loose connective tissue, and if they can fit their head in a space, they can fit the rest of their body in there. So large rats may be out, but for the most part, they can get into my pipes. They can climb through and get stuck in my shower head or fall into the water when I'm taking a bath.
And the next story? Is about this bubble that appeared on the roof of his mouth and started hurting. So he popped it with a thumb tack and then there was a hole there. So he goes to the dentist, and the dentist cuts the roof of his mouth off, does a biopsy, and closes him back up. The biopsy was negative. I don't believe I've mentioned the fact that I had an infection in my mouth last week. Well, I did. The roof of my mouth. Small little bumps/blister/scrape-thingies that 10 days of antibiotics have cleared up. But after reading that, I went and brushed my teeth (where I stared suspiciously at the shower/bath tub/sink), and when I was done, my tongue went immediately to the roof of my mouth, where I can still sort of feel a rough area where the abrasion was.
I came out of the bathroom to rant and freak out to my mother (who has a new short, spiky 'do that is platinum blonde with black tips), who told me to stop reading the book. So because she would not share in my fear (and almost-hyperventilation), I raced to my computer.
I thought I would share these things with you, because the more people I tell, the less terrified I feel. Which is why I'm making this public, so the paranoia can leak out to everyone, and not just you lucky people on my flist. Also, the more terrified everyone else is, the better I feel about myself. Because I'm evil.
And so is Augusten Burroughs.
EDIT: Because I didn't feel the need to post right after this one: I want two of some pet animal so I can name them Sodom and Gomorrah.
Big mistake.
Are you one of those people who hear/read/see something and then wonder what you would do if that happened to you? I am. I am paranoid. Sometimes so paranoid I'm surprised I can leave the house.
So I begin reading, and start with the essay about the rat/thing he finds in his tub. He freaks out and kills it, and calls up his friend's boyfriend, who is a plumber. Apparently, vermin climb up through water spouts all the time. All the time. A lot of the time, they climb up and get stuck in your shower head. You could be showering through vermin. You could contract hantavirus. So of course, I go inspect my bathtub. We have very small little pipes, and for a second, I breathed a sigh of relief. And then I remembered that vermin have loose connective tissue, and if they can fit their head in a space, they can fit the rest of their body in there. So large rats may be out, but for the most part, they can get into my pipes. They can climb through and get stuck in my shower head or fall into the water when I'm taking a bath.
And the next story? Is about this bubble that appeared on the roof of his mouth and started hurting. So he popped it with a thumb tack and then there was a hole there. So he goes to the dentist, and the dentist cuts the roof of his mouth off, does a biopsy, and closes him back up. The biopsy was negative. I don't believe I've mentioned the fact that I had an infection in my mouth last week. Well, I did. The roof of my mouth. Small little bumps/blister/scrape-thingies that 10 days of antibiotics have cleared up. But after reading that, I went and brushed my teeth (where I stared suspiciously at the shower/bath tub/sink), and when I was done, my tongue went immediately to the roof of my mouth, where I can still sort of feel a rough area where the abrasion was.
I came out of the bathroom to rant and freak out to my mother (who has a new short, spiky 'do that is platinum blonde with black tips), who told me to stop reading the book. So because she would not share in my fear (and almost-hyperventilation), I raced to my computer.
I thought I would share these things with you, because the more people I tell, the less terrified I feel. Which is why I'm making this public, so the paranoia can leak out to everyone, and not just you lucky people on my flist. Also, the more terrified everyone else is, the better I feel about myself. Because I'm evil.
And so is Augusten Burroughs.
EDIT: Because I didn't feel the need to post right after this one: I want two of some pet animal so I can name them Sodom and Gomorrah.