If "Eraserhead" Were an Emotion, This Would Be It

I have developed a bad relationship with Alphaghettis. I probably should never have developed a good relationship with them in the first place, but now it has soured, and I'm a little sad about it.



I have relationships with objects, you see. I do what I can on my end to keep us all copacetic, but the damn things keep getting weird on me.

For instance, I had a toaster that I really liked, and I had had this toaster for over five years, so we were pretty close. I made toast in it. I used it to light my morning cigarette. It was a real giver. And then, one day, it seemed to stay a little too hot for a little too long.

It could have just been me, because I had never carefully timed its heat retention before, but it just seemed kind of off. When it did it the next day, too, or at least seemed to do whatever it seemed to be doing, I felt a sick little twist in my stomach. My toaster was bad, and not good bad like bad boys in high school but bad bad like lumpy milk accidentally dumped on your last bowl of your favourite cereal.

I went without toast for some time after that, unsure if I was ready to handle having a different toaster in my kitchen. I really love toast, so this was a serious break-up, and I have been leary of strange toasters ever since.

You probably think I'm kidding about this. I'm not. This is serious business here.

I once lived in an apartment that I loved. It was the only place I've ever lived in that I cleaned with any regularity, so our bond went deep. The bedroom was at the back of the apartment. It was dark and small, and I slept better there than I had in years. One afternoon, though, I walked into it, and, like with the toaster, something seemed off. I tidied it up, I rearranged the furniture, and I burned incense, but whatever was off was staying that way. My gut gave up that sick little twist, and that was it. I moved my bed out into the living room and slept there for the next six months. I only entered that bedroom once more when I moved out to make sure that it was clean.

See? I'm not kidding. I can break up with a room.

I've also developed bad relationships with, among other things, pairs of shoes, a perfectly sweet pet hamster, a closet, a particular brand of chocolate syrup, a stuffed animal, a copy of Alice In Wonderland, a set of shelves, and, once, a fern, whose malevolent presence put me off my food until I put it outside for some kind stranger to salvage. I don't know what it is specifically about these items, but they just feel malevolent, spiritually toxic even. They spread no joy in Schmutzville.

Today, it's my Alphaghettis. The can refused to cut open properly, I could see oil separated from the red sauce, and I did not appreciate the sucking sound it made as it slid out of the can. They did not behave and feel like my beloved Alphaghettis of the past few decades. They feel malicious in some way sitting in that bowl. It's as though they are imbued with some kind of conscious ill intent.

I feel exactly like I did that one morning when I woke up next to a boyfriend who smelled like bong water. I was disturbed by his physical presence, like I was cuddling a giant cockroach, and I wondered if I would need any special medical testing after I walked out of his apartment for the last time. If the movie Eraserhead were an emotion, this mash-up of disgust and paranoia would be it.

So, goodbye Alphaghettis. It was nice knowing you before you turned on me, jerk.

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PS. Immediately after I hit publish on this post, the Palinode called and asked "How are the peppers in the fridge doing?", to which I replied, "They're feeling pretty good about themselves right now."

Vegetable empathy. I have it.

My No Good, Very Bad, Crazy, Sore-Boobed, Stressed, Disappointed, And Sick Day

A couple of days ago, I just thought I was crazy because I am crazy. The early bits of autumn weather that start creeping in with the shortening days is usually a warning sign to watch my seasonal depression issues.

Then, my boobs started to feel like someone had been using them as mini punching bags, and my fingers bloated my wedding rings right off, so I thought I was probably just a little bit crazy with a whopping main dish of PMS.

But, then! Then, I freaked out because the floor was damp under my feet in the kitchen. Can you imagine? What horror. I yelled about how horrible that was that my feet had to actually touch damp floor until I realized that my crazy was getting kind of out of hand. I took stock of myself and realized that, while I was still just a little bit crazy with a whopping main dish of PMS, I was also really stressed out about a pap smear redo that I had been called in for. Being that I had a hysterectomy due to cervical cancer three years ago, my stress was pretty understandable.


This was my semi-casual funeral attire style choice
for my pap smear appointment today.

Then, I woke up this morning with my little bit of crazy, my sore boobs, and my stress and went down to my doctor's office, but guess what? She didn't show up, the little minx! So, I re-scheduled my pap smear for next week and added disappointed to my list of ailments.

Then, I went and engaged in some fantastic retail therapy, because I was a little bit crazy, sore-boobed, stressed, and disappointed, and I deserved it. I managed to spend a mere $127.29 on over $510 worth of clothing at The Bay. Wha-cha!

Then, I had to take two sit-down breaks on my way home, because I was suddenly not only a little bit crazy, sore-boobed, stressed, and disappointed, but now I was also SICK, because why not throw more really crappy stuff into my crap bag of a day? I sat on benches and tweeted about nothing and huddled under a sweater and secretly snuffled tears into my collar, and I absolutely did not tackle a strange man for his cigarettes when he walked by sucking on that smoke that bathed the breeze in its sweet, sweet deliciousness.

I've decided to spend the rest of today blowing my nose and watching crap television while snorting vitamins C and D through a dollar bill, except not really, because I am a normal person who swallows them in pill form with water.

The End.

25 Things I Fear, In No Particular Order

When I have a cold, such as the one that is currently visiting great pain upon me, I tend to become moody and anxious, and so I have spent the majority of the day mooning about in bed, certain that I am unloved, unlovable, and teetering on the brink of an early death.

You only wish you could hang out with me right now.

I decided to while away the afternoon and evening by engaging in totally positive and absolutely not obsessive behaviour: I made a list of a few of my many fears.

Enjoy!

25 Things I Fear, In No Particular Order

1. Horses and their giant people teeth
2. Breaking a more major bone, like my femur
3. Opening closed closets
4. The toaster
5. My cats, when they creep around the house late at night and I feel estranged from them
6. That I will catch a case of crabs from pants in a clothing store when I try them on
7. That someone will break into the apartment while I'm in the shower and attack me when I'm wet and naked, because being wet makes the whole thing worse somehow
8. That one of my old acquaintances with whom I do not want to reacquaint will track me down out of curiosity, and I will have to interact with them
9. That I will stub my toe again on that piece of metal that separates the hallway from the kitchen
10. That I will never live up to my potential
11. That when I step off the corner to cross the street in winter, I will slip on the ice and slide under the vehicle waiting from me to cross, and then that vehicle will drive over my body without even knowing that I am there
12. That science will discover that our sense of self-will is false and that we are nothing more than bodies acting out their nature without true consciousness
13. Children older than three and younger than fifteen
14. Eating strange meat
15. Food cooked inside plastic packaging
16. That they will turn off the internet one day
17. Bees, hornets, wasps, and spiders that bite
18. That something really stupid will kill me by surprise, like that guy my father knew who died on the golf course after he sneezed and threw a bone out in his neck
19. Fundamentalism
20. That the woman who lives upstairs will fall through my ceiling while sitting in her bathtub like in that advertisement for the Terry's Chocolate Orange
21. That I will eat a new food one day, and I will suffer a fatal allergic reaction
22. Hyper feminine women
23. That someone will accuse me of stealing in a store or at work, even though that is something I would never do
24. Living things crawling into my ears or up into my sinuses and dying there
25. Falling off a chair or ladder while alone at home

What do you fear? Pony those babies up, people. If you love me.

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PS.  Take a look at my late night writing buddies.