Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Bijou's Gas

My guinea pig Bijou developed a sizable lump on her side. I thought maybe she ate a bunch of bedding. If it’s not that, it’s a tumor. 
I put Bijou in her travel carrier, and sorrowfully brought her to the vet.  I dreaded tumor news, after that it’s just a matter of quality of life to deteriorate. Then I’d have to put her to sleep, on Christmas, in a rainstorm.The vet sat there with Bijou in his hands, squeezing the lump.   

He tells me its gas.

There’s a blockage, and it’s filling my pig with gas. I pay 80 bucks for medication to make her fart. My husband and I buy Metamucil. She likes the Metamucil, but hates the medication. We have to force feed it to her in a syringe, it’s like a German snuff film.
She’s not expelling this gas.

I feel bad, she must be in discomfort. We took her to the vet again, to be told not to give her the medication the vet prescribed as it may cause more gas.
We are encouraged to feed her yogurt with pineapple or papaya or something. So here I am mashing papaya and pineapple juice into yogurt, so we can syringe feed her. Which she loves, she wheeks and wheeks bloody murder because yogurt is all she seems to want now. No force feedings, the pudgy little terror tries to wrestle the syringe from my hand. 

My husband read online that holding the pig upside down might cause the gas to move around. I didn’t like the idea, but it’s been 2 weeks and I’m desperate. I’ve always loved animals. I always thought maybe I might have a career in veterinary care or animal rescue or something. Instead I’m holding a pig upside down saying “Fart dammit!”

So far there is no gas coming from this pig. I’m starting to worry the lump will fill up so huge that she will lift off the ground and float away.

Hmm, I don’t like that scenario. I much rather think she will finally pass this infernal gas and that it will make her very happy.  

Monday, November 28, 2011

A humble wish

Regarding the 3 hip strangers, who saw fit to not only to criticize my appearance today. But also made conjectures on my life, and my value to prettyfull  society.

I hope their i-phones die.
I hope their parents take their BMW’s away.
I hope Banana Republic closes forever.
I hope they cancel Jersey shore.
I hope Pabst Blue Ribbon goes out of business so they can no longer drink it, ironically.
I hope all the dye runs out of their hair.
I hope their spray on tan, causes them to break out in a rash.
I hope their skinny jeans, are so tight it makes them sterile.
I hope every beanie is too small to fit their huge heads.
I hope every time they go to Value village on Captiol Hill, all the vintage stuff is gone.
I hope every time they order an Americano, it’s made with toilet water.
I hope all their vinyl records get peed on by a smelly elderly cat.

That's all I can think of for now, feel free to play along.

Fun with blood and swelling

Being a quarter vampire, or quarter mogwai, one of those. I chalked the itchy bumps on my arms to my sun allergy. Then my husband started getting the bumps too.  

In the middle of the night, I awoke went to the bathroom, flicked on the light. And saw on the floor, a bed bug. Locked in mortal combat with a tiny beetle looking thing. I sat on the toilet watching the two wave their antennae at each other.  Like some freaky bug dick waving contest. Then killed them in a manner most befitting bathroom warriors. With a tissue.
The rest of the night was spent, couch watching the drug dealers through my window.  
 I’m on the 5th floor so I can spy all I want. 

Morning came, I told my husband that we were infested. The rest of the day was spent, researching bed bugs on the internet. I am now Washington’s foremost expert on the subject. 
Did you know they stab each other with their creepy bug members to impregnate each other? They can’t distinguish male from female, so when they want to mate, they walk up to another bedbug and stab them, filling them with semen.  No flowers, no phone call.

I read about the now banned chemical DDT. Until 1972, it was used to help in eradicating bed bugs.  The bummer is, it was known to cause illness in humans and affected the environment , killing birds etc.  I’m a 21st century gal, I hug trees and damn the man just as much as anybody. But I admit at that moment I thought, “Aw C’mon, what’s a little cancer and dead birdies? Show a little foreskin people!”

Yes, I really do know better, wish I didn’t  :sigh:

The following day, vinyl mattress cover, a bed sheet filled with bug poison and repellant spray that smelled like tacky Christmas. Cleaned the room top to bottom, never found a trace of the damnable creatures. Apparently, they can live anywhere in your house, not just on your mattress.
 I was told my reaction was over kill. Don’t care too busy killing things.
 If impaling a bed bug on a tooth pick and leaving him out as a warning to other bed bugs didn’t have such harsh social implications. I would have done it. 

Speaking of overkill DIATOMACEOUS EARTH! Food grade mind you. It dries out the bed bugs, dehydrates them to the point of death. We got a little duster, and covered our apartment with the stuff.  In couches,  every crack in the wall. Every where dammit every where!   
Sure it felt like living in a mummies nostril, but such was my mania

Did you know they can crawl up your wall onto the ceiling and drop on you? 
I was so paranoid. Instead of the reality that a few slow bugs were lazily chomping me in the night. I envisioned, tearing off the bed sheets to find swarms of them, scattering all over me. Feeling the itchy sting of their fangs in my vulnerable flesh! Eye’s glowing red, they had swastika tattoos and Team Edward shirts on!

Needless to say I spent the rest of the nights on the couch. My husband one morning said.
“You need to sleep on the bed, the poison mat and other things won’t work to kill the bed bugs if they do not get on the bed in the first place.”
“ What are you saying?”
“If you’re not there, they will come looking for you out here.”

Jesus Christmas! Did he just say that? That the bugs would seek me out? Hunt me down? 
As if the thought of being bug bait wasn’t enough to keep me awake. The vinyl sheets were, they made everything too hot for comfort.  I was stressed, woke up 20 times a night turning on lights looking for bugs.
I was also receiving more bites than my husband. What can I say? I’m goddamned delicious.

  I was covered head to toe in more bites than I could count. Mainly because my skin had swelled up making it so you couldn’t count the bites. My husband said, maybe I could continue to sleep on the couch with all the lights on. The lights being on might deter the bugs?
Thus making him a lamb for the slaughter. He convinced me the idea of a few bites a night didn’t bother him much. I wanted to believe it so I did. 
Well, project overkill worked, thanks mainly to diatomaceous earth. Till this day though, the mention of bed bugs make me uncomfortable. 

I don’t have a lot of raw hatred in me. It’s mostly annoyance of things, sarcasm, skepticism.  People who don’t appreciate my brand of humor usually tell me they think I’m filled with hate. 
I'm not filled with hate, just a little hate. A normal level of hate, average really.

But damn do I hate bed bugs.
 I want them to die, if they suffer badly too that’s fine as well. I want to kill their families, their children, their pets and house plants.  I want to shit on their dreams.   
Possibly, I can train fleas? Little Viking warrior fleas? To raid their villages, burn their homes. Yes, Viking raider fleas with mustaches and hats made from the torn flesh of bed bugs. 

Well, my husband and I won. Yes, even without Viking raider fleas.