the sloppy copy

I am extremely talented in the art of self-persuasion, but to say that I have been gifted with this ability is only accurate about 50% of the time; the other 50% presents itself as more of a curse.

This probably sounds like an oxymoron. This is because it is an oxymoron. See, I can very easily convince myself that – amid major catastrophic, cataclysmic conditions – everything is going to be fine, all will work itself out, there’s nothing over which to get worked up. However, it takes little work for me to then be completely and totally assured that nothing will ever be right in the world again and that, really, we’re all screwed.

It’s a wonder I don’t suffer from more frequent headaches. Or emotional breakdowns.

Early yesterday morning, I woke up to the most intense of itches on my ankles and feet. I’m talking about the insanity-inducing kind of itching. When I got out of bed, I took a closer look and discovered at least a dozen tiny red bites covering my legs from the knees down.

Maybe it was because I wasn’t fully awake yet, but my very first reaction – the very first place my brain went – was Hypochondria Mode. Specifically, I knew that I had bed bugs.

Bed bugs are making a resurgence worldwide, after apparently going underground and planning their bloody coup for the last fifty-or-so years. And it seems that the ones who’ve resurfaced are some pesky little mofos, with total eradication proving to be a tricky, time-intensive, costly process. I only was superficially aware of this new(ish) phenomenon before yesterday, but I guess seeing those small itchy bumps on my lower extremities triggered some sort of previously-unmade Neural Connection between the Part Of My Brain That Reads The Health Section Of The Newspaper and The Part That Is Convinced I Have All Of Those Damn Diseases.

Now driven to act by some sort of primal brain area, I immediately immersed myself in some pretty hard-core internet research (oh, God, the pictures!). After reading some kind of Paper written by Harvard People, I was convinced. I informed my mother, whose reaction was initially horrified until she asked where the hell they could have come from.

“Uh, they come from everywhere!”
“But you haven’t been in a hotel or anything.”
“But they come from everywhere! They come in on your clothes!”
“Then how come I don’t have them?”
“Well, maybe you just don’t know it yet!”
“Okay, well, they look like chigger bites to me.”

Wait. Chigger bites?

In my haste to self-diagnose, I had forgotten that I’d spent time crawling through some bushes the day before, removing a wasp trap (that never caught any freaking wasps, what a waste of $5!) and pulling weeds.

Hmmmmmm.

My leeriness slowly melted away as I more closely inspected my ankles. Having been bitten by chiggers no less than 6,000 times in my life, the origin of my mystery bites now made complete and total sense. Suddenly – just as quickly as I’d been convinced otherwise – I knew that there were no bugs in my bed.

And last night, I slept like a baby.

Watch the video. It’s kind of awesome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7b2BzZySARo&feature=av2n

“O Valencia” / The Decemberists (2006)

One of my friends once referred to her purse as “The Magical Bag of Crap.” I think I’d like to appropriate that phrase for my own use.

When switching the contents of my own Magical Bag of Crap to a different receptacle yesterday, I snapped this picture (which only shows about half of the total contents transferred):

Some notes:
1. I like that it appears I have multiple wads of cash. Do not be fooled.
2. It also appears that I have some sort of horrible halitosis problem. Gum. Mints. Listerine Breath Strips. I’m a teensy bit neurotic about these things. Best to air on the side of mintiness than nastiness, I always say.
3. I’m usually good for having at least one random item in my purse: a spoon, perhaps. Or maybe some Mardi Gras beads. This picture is disappointingly mundane. These are all items that anyone could have in their purse. Lip gloss? Lotion? Pens? Ho-hum. Sorry, folks.

Something about how he yells the first line gives me goosebumps every time.

“Best of You” / Foo Fighters (2002)

I’ve been working a lot of nights lately, which means I’ve been watching a lot of late-night television. Seems that Jennifer Aniston and Jason Bateman have been making the talk-show circuit to promote their new film The Switch.

I don’t feel like summarizing the plot right now, so if you’re not in the loop go catch up here real quick. I can wait.

Back already? Okay.

So here’re my questions:
1. Who plans a party to celebrate their artificial insemination?
Wouldn’t the party come after a successful insemination, a la “Yay, I’m having a baby!” or – I don’t know – why don’t you wait until the baby shower? Otherwise, it’s just a “Imma ’bout to get knocked up!” party (which, really, could be any party where lots of alcohol is served, right?)

2. WHY IS THE SAMPLE IN HER BATHROOM?
Or is this gonna be a DIY job? (in which case, ew).

2(a). NO SERIOUSLY: WHY IS THE SAMPLE IN HER BATHROOM?
For chrissakes! You’re hosting a PARTY, lady! You probably took care to put away the tampons and the Summer’s Eve, and yet – and yet – you leave a plastic cup full of someone else’s man juice just sitting out on the back of the commode?

2(b). I’M NOT KIDDING: WHY THE FUCK IS THE SAMPLE IN HER BATHROOM?!
You’re obviously serving cocktails, did you not think to drunk-proof your place? Did it not cross your mind that possibly some drunken idiot might wander in and upset the fruit basket, so to speak? Really? Like really?

Actually, those are really my only two questions.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnvZ40XANMw&feature=fvst

“Wish you were here” / Pink Floyd (1975)

…in memoriam of the downright awesome dream that I had last night that will never, ever come true (also: bad vid, just give it a listen)

“Narcolepsy” / Ben Folds (1999)

I know we don’t have to, but what if I want to?

“We don’t have to take our clothes off” / Jermaine Stewart (1986)

Recognize the song? It’s featured in a Ford Fiesta commercial. But this is a good band. For reals.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtH8m_i8O7k

“Janglin” / Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (2009)

Also, did I include a link to the Ford website? You bet your sweet ass I did. Ford’s payin for my daddy’s retirement, y’all. Buy yourself a freakin Ford! (Or Mercury, or Lincoln, or Mazda… or Jaguar. Except I don’t think any of my readers are of the Jag-driving type).