My Mom’s Birthday, Getting Bit By Mosquitoes, Hanging Out With Jess

Dude, I can barely remember what happened this week, I wish it was due to some blackout scenario but I think the days are just starting to all run together.

It was my Mom’s birthday, and she wanted to go to Good Stuff Eatery, so we went into D.C. because those burgers are an act of God. I had the Vietnamese Coffee milkshake, and I would like them to just stab me with a turkey baster and inject it straight into my heart because it was divine. The weather was nice and the row houses were beautiful as always. My heart is definitely not in D.C. long-term, but who couldn’t fantasize about living on Capitol Hill in a historic brownstone with gorgeous, ornate, wrought iron steps. No one.

Got screwed on the Metro, naturally. It was so hot, and so humid, and there was no moving air, and everyone was literally back to back, ass to sweaty ass, down the entire line. I’ve stood on crowded subways plenty of times, but never in that sort of hog crate scenario for that length of time. It felt like someone had beat me in the back of the knees and the small of my back with a baseball bat for three of four days afterwards.


Then, like Tom Sawyer, I decided to paint a fence.

I need to live in a condo or in the woods. I am too competitive for home ownership. The fence has gone unpainted for years. A neighbor either moved in or got his/her shit together and showed up with a painted deck and garage door, and I decided we had to one up them by painting the fence. Not only did it aggravate my metro riding injury, but I was eaten alive by mosquitoes in the middle of the day. One of the bites on my thigh swelled up to the size of a compact disc and isn’t so much itchy as it feels like one massive bruise.

I want to know how mosquitoes respond to prescription drugs. I know Prozac was getting into lakes and biologically buttfucking the fish population, I wonder how mosquitoes are coping with blood coursing with prescription pharmaceuticals. Specifically, my SSRI and energy drink tainted blood. I hope it kills them all.

Happier note, Adriana showed up at my door like in an American sitcom. My phone was broken and Jessica was in town and had gotten some time off from covering the Memorial Day events. So she drove to Arlington and we got supremely fucked over by a Garmin. Eventually we found Jess’s hotel and got to catch up and shit talk for a few hours. It was nice.

Also I learned Adriana once got a hug from Paul Williams over her Death Records tattoo. How awesome is that?

My sister got pink eye and my family took a characteristically lax approach to disease prevention. They have been acting like I’m crazy for disinfecting the doorknobs and wanting to bleach all the hand towels. My Mom just keeps saying “it’s just pinkeye.” I know it’s not ebola, but it’s highly contagious. Who the fuck wants to get pink eye? I just don’t understand how they choose to divide their anxiety. My Mom was completely unconcerned with my sister’s pink eye, but adamant we both get phones before our cell phone contracts were up. I kept telling her they don’t cut off service like that, but she would not hear it. So my Dad came down to give me an old phone, since pieces of my Sidekick’s circuit board had started to fall off, and we spent four hours or so at the store renewing contracts, before my sister went to the walk in clinic.


But I have a functioning phone now, that I have no idea how to use, since I’ve had my Sidekick since 2011 and it stopped updating at FroYo. I did managed to set my notification tone to Zandig yelling “JESUS!” so there’s that. Priorities.

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