Tagged: i’m going to go stand over there now

Protip: unless you want to smell like a gateway to hell, don’t do this.

Dante's guide rebuffs Malacoda and his fiends in Inferno Canto 21 between ditches five and six in the eight circle.

Hey, this is nasty.  So just brace yourself for nasty.  You knew I was inappropriate.  I can’t turn this shit off.

LET’S GO!

I often feel like there’s something wrong with me–PROBABLY BECAUSE THERE IS–and like everyone is staring at me (I’m really not interesting enough on the outside for them to be–or am I?) but I don’t often feel like everyone can smell me.  I bathe on the regular.  I mean daily.  Sometimes three times a day, if the man is over and I’m going to get some.  I mean we’re going to have conjugal relations.  S in the E-X.  I guess that would be E-S-X.  Which is how we do, because we are kinky.

So I couldn’t figure why I smelled like a truck stop toilet.  Like really bad, and coming from my Netherlands.  And right after I took a shower.  What the fuck?  I guessed I had an infection in the ol’ punani (my punani is old as the hills), which is terrible, horrible, very bad.  And away from home!  But the thing is: I wasn’t doing anything different, and this was the sickeningest odor ever.

For reals, my ‘nani smelled like a Gateway to Hell.  Usually, I can clear up [I am not a doctor and this is so not recommended] a yeast or bacterial infection with a couple of drops of tea tree oil on a tampon and shove that shit up there and I’m good to go.  So I went to the store to get my oil and felt ashamed.  I hoped they just thought I stepped in shit.

And I did my poor lady cure-all.  And it helped a little.  But I had just had my period and–OH SWEET JESUS NO.  NO PLEASE GOD NO….

..!…?…!

OH yes.  I had left a plug up there and I didn’t know how long it had been up there.  At least 36 to 48 hours.  But maybe even longer than that.  I didn’t remember when I last put a tampon in, I really didn’t.  It was Sunday and the last time I remembered anything tampon-related was Thursday.  This has always been a fear of mine.  I’ve even been to the doctor before because I thought I had one in (didn’t).

AND it took some doing to get it down. I did it myself, but yeah.  Might have to do with the posterior cervix.  Don’t know, don’t care, it’s done.

But Seer: how did it smell?

AND it smelled like a demonic abortion. Like I had had an incident with an incubus and then thought better of the whole affair and found a priest to exorcise that shit with a holy coat hanger.  Like the soul of all the urinal cakes in all of the Port-a-Potties in all of Coachella.  Like the afterbirth of the Echidna, after she pushed Chimera and Cerberus and Hydra and the rest out.  (Did you know/remember they were siblings?  Yeah.)

AND I don’t feel sick.  Doubt that I have toxic shock syndrome.  It’s really systemic sepsis–a full-on staph infection.  Ladies usually get it from dirty hands touching their coochies when they put in a tampon (of course, toilets are straight up ill) and then you get pregnant–with staph.  Congratulations!  It’s sepsis!

SO, that happened.  What did you do today?  Oh.

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Look, leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone. Let’s have opinions, but keep them to ourselves.

Emile_Friant_La_Discussion_politique

Open letter addressed to argumentative people who think they are just into spirited discussion

Dear Folks,

Hey, I am sure you have a lot of things to say that are really important to you about (but not limited to):

  • Abortion
  • Atheism
  • Religion
  • Palestine/Israel/the Middle East
  • Gambling
  • Drug Legalization
  • Prostitution/Sex Workers
  • Politics
  • Wars/Military issues
  • Government issues
  • Veterans affairs
  • Health care
  • Rape
  • Oppression, general and/or specific
  • Other assholes

But I don’t have time to listen to your stories.  I’m not going to change my mind.  No one over the age of twelve will change their mind on these sort of topics without seeking the information themselves.  I don’t want to talk to anyone who doesn’t agree with me about these topics, and I don’t really want to talk to anyone who does agree with me on these topics.  Shit just makes me angry.  I’m angry enough.

But Seer, don’t you want to make a difference on [this topic]?

Yelling and/or nattering at me about bullshit isn’t the same thing as making a difference about bullshit.  How about instead of telling me that the Onion shouldn’t be calling a little girl a cunt and how racism and sexist and arrgh you go make a positive difference in the world?  Or something?  Jesus, if everyone would stop getting their assholes all clenched about fake outrage and chopping teeth about it, and really did something with all that energy, problems would be getting solved!

That so isolationist/idiotic/small-minded/submissive to patriarchy/gluten-tolerant!

See, this is why you shouldn’t be talking to me about any of this.  If you really want to be angry, go yell at someone who does or does not agree with you, but leave me out of it.  I don’t like this.  You know what I like?

I like this video and its ilk very, very much!  So if you excuse me, I’ll be listening to this.  Go be angry somewhere else without me.  I got shit to write.  And I really want to listen to these two albums again.  I can’t do that with you talking at me.

No matter how insane and ridiculous they seem, you must follow your dreams. Even if they are talking to everyone about Proposition Poo-Poo Bananas.

Be well on your journey! AND FUNK ON.

your pal

 

Smicks