$3 Flip Flop Fiasco

Mosquitoes and Cursing

I’m being eaten alive! One thing I’ve noticed while being here is the Tetradactyle sized mosquitoes cannot be stopped! I have every technical marvel in the known universe at destroying or simply deterring these retched beasts! I’ve got this sticky, yellow tube type fly paper thing that hangs from my ceiling that is supposed to attract and stick them to this thing and I have a blue lighted bug light. Plus I’m wearing about a gallon of Off. I think the deet will do something to me in future, probably get cancer of the big toe or I’ll be impotent, either of which I know will be unpleasant.  Plus I think that all this does is identify me better to them.  “You guys smell the deet?  Over there, by the yellow tube thing.  Yeah him, the one illuminated by the blue light! GET HIM!”

I JUST smacked one out of the air that was the size of pelican, stepped on it and it just got up, brushed himself off, gave me the finger and went about its marry day flying over me trying to find a parking spot for the buffet. I’m sure it’s going to bit me where it will be the most socially crippling place to be bitten, like the upper thigh, eye lid or ear lobe. The thigh really was uncalled for, I mean really! When you starch it looks like I’m picking at nature’s stadium cushion and that isn’t cool, because you have to explain to people what’s going on and no one ever believes you.

EEEWWWW!

No, No, No I was bitten by a mosquito!

Sure you were! Go wash your hands Sick-o!

Thanks Iraq, I’ll probably end up with a new strand of West Nile Virus and my lower torso will just fall off. Great there goes my dodge ball career.

Another thing you’ve noticed is that I’ve changed the look of the blog. I really didn’t want to but everyone complained about the 5 foot, 1 eyed purplie people eater scheme I had going on that I thought enough was enough I’ll change it, but not really. I changed it, but either I’m stupid or this software is pure evil sensing my every move because I can’t change it back to the way things used to be, so it now looks like it belongs in a fishing store.

Another thing I’ve felt like bringing up is that you’ll probably notice now that my entries have been PG rated, meaning that I’ve refrained from throwing a lot of curse words around. This is in fact because my mom, wife and assortment of other people I try on a daily basis to convince I’m not a heathen are reading this or at least going, “huh, Chi Tea, great well I just wasted 5 minutes of my life I’ll never get back”. So I'm, in no way trying to damage my street credit or anything, but I just haven’t come to a place in the blog where an F-Bomb would be appropriate. And when, one day when I’m old and I buy it, and my kids or relatives reflect on my inner most thoughts, they’ll find this junk in the vortex that is the internet, I’d hate for them to go, “37 consecutive sentences where F*(&$ appears, classy!”

Saying four letter words is far different than typing them, even though there are human emotions that four letter words express more deeply. For example, you are making a sandwich and try to cut a tomato and your finger tries to stop everything because he and the tomato hang out. So then the finger is critically wounded (BLEEPEN Finger!) and this may now constitute a trip to the ER and there is blood on my sandwich. This is something I’ve campaigned for years, why is the F-Bomb a curse word? Who decided this and why were we not consulted?

I think we should blame the English!  If you think about it the English have taken cursing to a new level. They have taken foul language and transcended it to another plain of existence. I watched a couple of English movies or talk to the English (which happens more than you think) half the time I’m like “What’s a Wanker?” Really! What is it? Why is Bloody Hell such a bad thing to say? Half the time I think they’re just free styling when it comes to cursing, which is kind of cool, in a vulgar way.

Why not have curse words that actually stand for something you detest? Say you get cut off in traffic “AH Jennifer Lopez!” or your break the TV during a Desperate Housewives Marathon “Holy Herpes!” you stub your toe “Fruit Caken Foot!” Really, that way people could get to know you better, “Well we know Tom hates the French, pants, Hippies, and stairs; he must be from the south!” I don’t know just an idea.

The Riot Grandma Started

This entry is sort of…well its me just complaining about things. So here we go fasten your seatbelts and go to the bathroom; why I don’t know it sounds like good advice. I mean really every situation in life could use one or both of these perils of wisdom. Think about it. I just realize this is a bad intro for what I’m about to say, but never the less, here we go.

Why won’t anyone listen to me?!? I mean really, have you ever had the right answer to something so seemingly obvious that it should be as easy for everyone else to figure out? Well I have and let me tell you that these situations frustrate the absolute crap out of me! For instance you’ve got a friend; this friend is fond of nature and the little beasties and creepy crawlies that exist in the wilds of the world. The type of guy who is one step removed from being a dirty hippy, I mean Birkenstocks, hackie sacks, the Discovery Channel, Betty Crocker, the whole nine yards. Well this friend of yours sees a highly dangerous and venomous snake and you say “Hey there is a highly dangerous and venomous snake, lets bi-pass this scaly puppy”. AND DOES HE? NO! Instead he picks it up and not only does it bite the absolute nonsense out of him, it tags him right in the nose. Right where the cartilage of the nose meets the lip, you know what I’m talking about. So he’s left walking around with a pair of snake holes in his face and it looks like he’s some obscure tribesman with a large gourd glued to the end of his beak! Now not only does he look ridiculous because the end of this nose is swollen the size of one of those mini b-balls you win at the fair, but you’re to blame! “Dude why didn’t you warn me?” “Your right, silly me, I’m a bad friend!” I don’t know about you but I find no joy in the phrase “I told you so”. Now some people do and maybe you're one of them, but not me. It just frustrates me to the same level of being conscience during a seizure, there you go that's how I feel. On some level I feel responsible for you (not you, but the general you, man your sensitive) being stupid, like your dad should have thrown you in a burlap bag and tossed you in a river when you were young. “No honey, some day Junior here will be in a situation where the right thing to do is so seemingly obvious everyone but him will see it. He’ll not see it, then he’ll look stupid and I can’t do that to the world!” So basically if everyone listened to me when it mattered I’d be happier and probably live longer.

So the frustration never ends! My grandmother sends me a care package, which in and of itself is spectacular! I mean she sends enough stuff to feed an Army! And coincidentally there is one here. One of her prizes she sends is one of her home made pound cakes. If you’ve never had any, you never will, I refuse to do that to someone, because you’ll realize that every pastry and dessert will not beat the pure joy in cake form that is grandma’s pound cake. So basically by me letting you have some, I’d be somehow removing your will to live, because of the disappointment the rest of your life will hold. It is so good, that it is the pinnacle of happiness here on Earth, the birds will cease to sing and flowers will lose their pleasant smell once you have a piece. The rest of your life will be devoted to getting some more pound cake. Seriously it’s that good.

Now this is the third of all pound cakes she’s sent and I should have learned from what happened from the first two, but I didn’t. So what happened is similar to what happened to Indiana Jones at the beginning of “The Last Crusade” one that Sean Connery is in. You know in the beginning where he’s at his school, trying to get into his office and being mauled by all those female students. He can’t even get into his room and eventually has to escape out the window. Remember now? No, well go to Blockbuster or make some sort of effort here I mean really. Yeah that happened to me and instead of females; it was dudes, hungry dudes! There all like “DUDE GRANDMA’S POUND CAKE!” There are no “pleases” or “may I have a piece” it was like waking through a drug rehab center with a big crack necklace! It was the closest a grown man can get to any sort of zombie situation. Where human language, logic and reason can not serve to protect you, but a chainsaw or a ninja sword would, even some kind of blunt object. Its just blind fury and a sea of outstretched arms, moaning, drooling and DAM IT zombies are bitters! Instead of brains or people, they want Grandma’s pound cake and they will stop at nothing to obtain it. There was no war going on outside the wallsthat day my friend, but there was one in my room. It was like being in the epicenter of a riot! As soon as I said, “No” to someone, the natives then got really pissed off! There were cars overturned, darkness, chaos, buildings on fire, some lady screaming, babies crying and gangs of people carrying clubs and pitch forks. It was awful. I mean I hardly got any last time and that thing was huge! There really was no one asking, just a mob of dudes and lots of disorder. Oh and it really didn’t end there either. Oh no! I had guys breaking into my room to get at this stuff! Bribes, corruption, you name it I experienced it!

When it was all said and done, I was left with a box of empty crumbs, NO CAKE, tattered and burnt rages, and confusion, but I felt lucky to have my life. I think the feeling would be similar to being only guy to survive the apocalypse. You just sort of stand there for a few minutes in shock, not really aware of what just happened. You got smoke emitting from your clothing, your hair is all charred and you’re missing a shoe. Then you slowly start to remember and the horror of the situation sets in. Then you do the only thing you can, just collapse where you’re standing and start crying. “WHY GOD, WHY?!?” Or maybe a long “NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Either would be appropriate.