Oh God, I've been lost in thought over something fucking ridiculous again.
It started about 6 (ish) weeks ago when a random arm pain turned from being a minor irritation to actually entering my conscious as something which I felt should have gone away long ago. This pain, which was throughout my left arm and onto a bit of my chest, became known as my 'heart attack arm'. I complained about it bitterly without taking any positive action.
Well, recently the sharper pains have subsided to simply leave a constant dull ache unless I move my arm in a certain way. The sane part of my brain tells me it's just a strain or something, the insane part of my brain tells me that the only possible answer is cancer.
Arm cancer to be precise.
Of course I know you can't have localised cancer of 'just' the left arm so I haven't been thinking about it too much.
THEN, this morning I had a 3:30am visit from the Tidiness Nazi who wished to inform me that she'd been woken up by my car alarm going off. The car was parked along the main road and it was pissing down with rain. In short, I went out to the car and, well I can't be bothered to go into the entire story but the incident ended with me in a massive temper pushing the car on my own and trying to get enough speed so I could jump into it and jump start it into life.
..which I did.
I returned to bed at around 4am, soaking wet and pissed off but couldn't sleep. It's those 4am moments when you start to *think* that's the real killer. My hypochondria knows no bounds when it's 4am and I've got a random pain which should have gone away weeks ago.
I shared my catastrophising with a work colleague who understands the joy of hypochondria.
Me (miserably): So, I reckon I've got some form of arm cancer or an arm rottening disease but the pain is right up high past my shoulder! They'll have to remove so much of me that I might not be able to wear a prosthetic arm 'cause there won't be anything to fit it on to. AND as I'm so broke at the moment, if I DID get a false arm it's likely to be a cheap comedy pre-moulded rubber one that just hangs there. It'll be an NHS one so it's likely to be an institutional kind of blue colour and it'll be just that bit too long.....
Colleague: You'll just have to stick a twig in the hole then.
Me (perking up): Like a snowman?
Well that was it. I was lost in thought about my snowman arm just jutting straight out of my body with 3 little stick fingers at the end. I forgot about my impending doom and allowed myself to laugh heartily at the vision. I told my colleague I'd have to find a watch with a very small strap to put on my little jutty-out arm. I thought about going out in public and how people would be too polite to say anything to my face. That's something which always makes me laugh - the politeness of the British in the face of something fucking ridiculous. I'm still giggling like a moron at the picture in my head which, fortunately, has replaced the dark thoughts of this morning when I was doom-laden with images of me trying to write with my other hand and wondering whether I'd be allowed to keep my detached arm so I could get it cremated and put the ashes in with my Mother. That'd be something - the cremains of my mother, her cat and my arm in one container.
I even wondered whether she'd get my arm in the afterlife before I got there to join it. That'd piss you off wouldn't it - having to care for a detached arm in the hereafter.
Still, you could look down and enjoy your daughter's new replacement snowman arm!
Sketty (30 September - ?)isn’t a 17th Century English naval administrator or Member of Parliament. Furthermore, she has never met King Charles II or King James II. This may be due to both being dead at the time of her life. In fact, this isn’t so much a diary but the unedited spewings from the brain of one of the Century’s leading cretins. Some of it may develop into comedy unless I get to spend time in a lovely facility where someone will give me dinner.
Monday 11 November 2013
Saturday 2 November 2013
Me and Diogenes
I know it should be 'Diogenes and I' and it's upsetting my OCD to just leave that title but leave it I will.
HELLO there, so here we are again then eh? There's so much to tell including my future death festooned in monkeys, the lobster -v- shrimp costume argument, the having to lose at least half my body weight (she exaggerated) in a year and oh, I dunno, the thing I've picked to talk about today!
...the rest will follow in due course.
So, yeah - gosh, where do I start. Hell, I'll just jump right in. Remember about 18 months ago when I went totally nuts and ended up on meds and seeing a shrink? I did mention that over here didn't I? I can't be arsed to look back over my previous posts but it was around the time I went totally mental and turned up at someone's 40th birthday party crying and in my dinner covered pyjamas and no shoes? Yeah, if you are going to do 'break-down' you have to do it in a totally memorable way. The thing is, the people at the party were so nice they completely ignored these minor details, welcomed me in and gave me food. I calmed down a little bit - food always fixes me, but was gently lead to see my doctor the next day. The upshot was that together with the meds I had to 'see someone'. Someone who wore Hush Puppies to be precise.
Back to the present.
(I pulled myself out of the mire by the way......well, I thought I did. That, it would seem, remains to be seen!)
So, I'm sitting in my litter strewn car waiting for a heavy rain shower to stop. A piece of paper had fallen out of my bag and in my boredom I picked it up and after a cursory glance realised it was some notes I'd made at one of the 'Hush Puppy' sessions. It was weird, I'd pretty much forgotten everything that had been discussed and I think I only attended twice before buying the bald dog and feeling much better. The piece of paper had stuff written on it which Mr Hush Puppy had told me were his early thoughts about what I'd told him about myself and how I was feeling/behaving and he'd told me to go away and Google this stuff so we could discuss it at our next meeting. I remember that I couldn't be fucked to do it so cancelled the next sesh and as you know, Derek the bald dog turned up next.
I'd written one phrase at the bottom of the page. One phrase which the Hush Puppy guy had said was very significant and I needed to look into it for discussion.
The phrase?
DIOGENESE SYNDROME
I Googled it in the car and told my housemate (The Tidiness Nazi) about it when I got home.
Me: .....so, what do you think? That cheeky Hush Puppy wearing bastard INSULTED ME!
Tidiness Nazi: So he said you are on the foothills of developing some sort of squalor and self neglect syndrome?
Me: YEAH, the cheeky bastard! Granted I can admit that some of the symptoms listed ring slightly true - the whole apathy, social withdrawal and lack of shame thing. That's got me ALL over it but the rest can fuck right off!
T.N: It says something about poor reasoning and stupid decision making too doesn't it?
Me: ....your point being?
T.N: Oh, I don't know. Shall we start with the plan to dress up and climb the Himalayas dressed as a fucking lobster despite being a lazy fucker who hates walking or doing pretty much anything? Then there was your plan to become a worm baron with the largest worm farm in the whole of the UK?
Me: That was an eco venture! It's not my fault the worms turned out to be scary.....
T.N: Well, I think that the fella might have had a point.
Me: ....how rude!
So I called my mate Bison in order to get some proper sympathy and reassurance that I wasn't permanently broken!
Me: .....so what do you think? I've been properly insulted!
Bison (can barely talk for laughing): Ha ha ha ha ha, you've gone wrong and it's official! You've got a 'syndrome' named after some ancient Greek bloke who went nuts and lived in a barrel! You'd LOVE to live in a fucking barrel, go on ADMIT it!
Me (not helping my case): I will admit that after reading that bit I did get lost in thought about how snuggly and cool it would be to sit in a massive fuck off barrel on a big soft cushion with a blanket over me just listening to the conversations of other people in the street without them knowing I was there....
Bison (still laughing!!): This is hysterical. Some bloke told you to look into a syndrome he was concerned you had started displaying tendencies towards and you couldn't be arsed, which is one of the symptoms and now you are offended? HAH HAHA HA HA HA HA HA....you've joked you were going to end up as a crazy old lady
Me: ....shit.
Bison: Just remember, I'm supporting you through the medium of laughter (starts laughing again)
So next I spoke to my cousin Bakes who, when I told her about Diogenes, pissed herself laughing too! What the hell's wrong with 'Team Sketty'? They're shit man!
Me: I should go and punch that bastard in the face for saying that I was turning into a Crazy!
Bakes: .......(long pause)......isn't that one of the symptoms?
Me: Shit.....
So there you go, 18 months ago some bloke decided I was on a slippery slope towards turning into the type of person who might walk around town dressed weirdly with a bald dog in a pram collecting newspaper with which I could wrap up and neatly stack my own faeces. Well guess what Mr Stupid-Hush-Puppy-Know-It-All? I've applied for the funding through the Cycle to Work scheme to get a bicycle with a basket on the front to put my bald dog in SO THERE!
...and on a totally unrelated note - here's a picture of the lobster (or possibly shrimp) outfit I'm getting:
HELLO there, so here we are again then eh? There's so much to tell including my future death festooned in monkeys, the lobster -v- shrimp costume argument, the having to lose at least half my body weight (she exaggerated) in a year and oh, I dunno, the thing I've picked to talk about today!
...the rest will follow in due course.
So, yeah - gosh, where do I start. Hell, I'll just jump right in. Remember about 18 months ago when I went totally nuts and ended up on meds and seeing a shrink? I did mention that over here didn't I? I can't be arsed to look back over my previous posts but it was around the time I went totally mental and turned up at someone's 40th birthday party crying and in my dinner covered pyjamas and no shoes? Yeah, if you are going to do 'break-down' you have to do it in a totally memorable way. The thing is, the people at the party were so nice they completely ignored these minor details, welcomed me in and gave me food. I calmed down a little bit - food always fixes me, but was gently lead to see my doctor the next day. The upshot was that together with the meds I had to 'see someone'. Someone who wore Hush Puppies to be precise.
Back to the present.
(I pulled myself out of the mire by the way......well, I thought I did. That, it would seem, remains to be seen!)
So, I'm sitting in my litter strewn car waiting for a heavy rain shower to stop. A piece of paper had fallen out of my bag and in my boredom I picked it up and after a cursory glance realised it was some notes I'd made at one of the 'Hush Puppy' sessions. It was weird, I'd pretty much forgotten everything that had been discussed and I think I only attended twice before buying the bald dog and feeling much better. The piece of paper had stuff written on it which Mr Hush Puppy had told me were his early thoughts about what I'd told him about myself and how I was feeling/behaving and he'd told me to go away and Google this stuff so we could discuss it at our next meeting. I remember that I couldn't be fucked to do it so cancelled the next sesh and as you know, Derek the bald dog turned up next.
I'd written one phrase at the bottom of the page. One phrase which the Hush Puppy guy had said was very significant and I needed to look into it for discussion.
The phrase?
DIOGENESE SYNDROME
I Googled it in the car and told my housemate (The Tidiness Nazi) about it when I got home.
Me: .....so, what do you think? That cheeky Hush Puppy wearing bastard INSULTED ME!
Tidiness Nazi: So he said you are on the foothills of developing some sort of squalor and self neglect syndrome?
Me: YEAH, the cheeky bastard! Granted I can admit that some of the symptoms listed ring slightly true - the whole apathy, social withdrawal and lack of shame thing. That's got me ALL over it but the rest can fuck right off!
T.N: It says something about poor reasoning and stupid decision making too doesn't it?
Me: ....your point being?
T.N: Oh, I don't know. Shall we start with the plan to dress up and climb the Himalayas dressed as a fucking lobster despite being a lazy fucker who hates walking or doing pretty much anything? Then there was your plan to become a worm baron with the largest worm farm in the whole of the UK?
Me: That was an eco venture! It's not my fault the worms turned out to be scary.....
T.N: Well, I think that the fella might have had a point.
Me: ....how rude!
So I called my mate Bison in order to get some proper sympathy and reassurance that I wasn't permanently broken!
Me: .....so what do you think? I've been properly insulted!
Bison (can barely talk for laughing): Ha ha ha ha ha, you've gone wrong and it's official! You've got a 'syndrome' named after some ancient Greek bloke who went nuts and lived in a barrel! You'd LOVE to live in a fucking barrel, go on ADMIT it!
Me (not helping my case): I will admit that after reading that bit I did get lost in thought about how snuggly and cool it would be to sit in a massive fuck off barrel on a big soft cushion with a blanket over me just listening to the conversations of other people in the street without them knowing I was there....
Bison (still laughing!!): This is hysterical. Some bloke told you to look into a syndrome he was concerned you had started displaying tendencies towards and you couldn't be arsed, which is one of the symptoms and now you are offended? HAH HAHA HA HA HA HA HA....you've joked you were going to end up as a crazy old lady
Me: ....shit.
Bison: Just remember, I'm supporting you through the medium of laughter (starts laughing again)
So next I spoke to my cousin Bakes who, when I told her about Diogenes, pissed herself laughing too! What the hell's wrong with 'Team Sketty'? They're shit man!
Me: I should go and punch that bastard in the face for saying that I was turning into a Crazy!
Bakes: .......(long pause)......isn't that one of the symptoms?
Me: Shit.....
So there you go, 18 months ago some bloke decided I was on a slippery slope towards turning into the type of person who might walk around town dressed weirdly with a bald dog in a pram collecting newspaper with which I could wrap up and neatly stack my own faeces. Well guess what Mr Stupid-Hush-Puppy-Know-It-All? I've applied for the funding through the Cycle to Work scheme to get a bicycle with a basket on the front to put my bald dog in SO THERE!
...and on a totally unrelated note - here's a picture of the lobster (or possibly shrimp) outfit I'm getting:
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