You want me to do what?

O.K. Now that that's over, we can get back to behaving like a normal human being. Or at least the other 49% of the population. I've packed up the Red Tent, stashed the pons in the back of the cabinet, and donned my oh-so-pleasant demeanor. Ha, right. Like that will ever happen.

A question has gone blazing across my mind today after reading yet another funny story by Sundry. Not so much in the direction of having to pair up with a stranger, although I whole-heartedly agree. I can't stand the stranger hook-up. It immediately caused my stomach to lurch at the thought of every awkward horrible moment when I used to attend church, or am still cajoled by my parents to attend with them, and the minister calls out for the dreaded "greet your neighbor". Listen, that 150 year-old women sitting behind me with the nose whistle and the dead carcass around her frail shoulders is not my neighbor. I have no interest in grabbing her limp, cold, blue skeletor hand while feighing a counterfeit smile similar to the ones amateur porn stars exhibit when being rammed up the ass by Dirk Diggler and trying to act like it feels good. Noooooo thank you.

And this brings me to my question. Why do people make ludicrous suggestions whenever you have an issue, a need, a problem to solve? Whether you've asked for anyone's assistance or not? And why, for chrissakes, do we actually partake in some of these home-spun remedies and idiotic ideas when we know good god damn and well they are stupid as shit.

Take this morning for instance. I'm grubbin' on some almonds and whammo, one decides to jam itself between 2 of my molars, and that sucker was stuck. Fuck shit ouch. I scramble through the drawer I know I last threw some floss in, so I can unwedge the offending nut from my jaw and put my entire skull back into it's proper alignment, but it's not there. Fuck shit ouch. Now what am I going to do?

I call out to a couple of my co-workers, desperate for help, while trying to cram my fingernail between my teeth. Neither had floss but one comes skipping into my office with a sewing kit. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Sew myself a little pillow with a pack of dental floss appliqued on the front? Her proposed first choice for a floss substitute to fix to my dental dilemma was for me to actually pluck a strand of hair off of my head and...and...christ on a cracker, I can't even finish the sentence. The thought of actually winding a piece of hai...oh god, I think I'm going to puke. This might not seem like such a wildly disgusting idea that makes me want to crawl into my own ass just for a dark place to hide, but trust me, it is. I have a hair thing, which in itself is dumb since I have hair down to my waist, but I can't stand it once it detaches itself from my or anyone else's body. And we won't even go into free-floating watchsprings today, I'm nauseous enough.

I quickly quash that idea and cut her off mid-hair and grab the sewing kit with the dark blue string hanging out of it. Now, intellectually I know this is a crap idea. I know that string is not the same as dental floss. It has nowhere near the capacity to stretch or the strength as floss but what do I do? Yes, I separate it from the needle (I'm not that dumb) wind it around my fingers and jam it into my mouth and through the offending teeth and guess what? SNAP. Fucking string breaks, and now I don't just have the almond stuck between my teeth, causing my eyes to cross with the pain, but I have a piece of dirty blue string in there too. GAH!!

Thankfully, I went begging around the office and found some real floss and fixed myself right up. Still a bit queasy thinking about using a hai...EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Can't do it. Then I started thinking about all the fucked up koo-koo remedies my mother has come up with. I swear, if someone told her dog shit shakes would make you lose 4 pounds she'd be making the dog crap into a blender. Then there was the "a whole, raw clove of garlic" sore throat cure. Yea, uh huh, the reason why that works is because no one is gonna come near you for about a week since you stink like an Italian in Vegas.

That stupendous scheme was followed by the Aloe Vera juice cure. This was supposed to remedy all ills but mainly I think it just gave her the shits so bad she couldn't leave the house and everything seemed better since she had no contact with anyone or anything other than the week-old newspaper in the bathroom. There was also some sort of drink that poured out like pond scum and tasted about as good as a hair-permanent/grass smootie. And the really scary thing was if you shook the bottle it sounded like it was full of broken glass but no chunks of anything ever came out. Ick.

And don't ever tell anyone you're sick, broke, lonely, cold, bored, tired, constipated, etc., etc. It will soon be followed with "alls you gotta do is" and some asinine game plan that will undoubtedly involve a lethal concoction you'd only consume on a dare, while drunk, and high, and more importantly, could get laid over. Or worse yet, some hair-brained scheme that will find you so irreversibly fucked you'll have to change your name, dye your hair, get colored contacts, sell all your worldly possessions on E-bay under the login shitsandwich, and move into a cabin in the woods. I implore you, takers of bad advice. JUST. SAY. NO. S'what I shoulda done. String. What a dumbass.