I've fought with tooth aches, lingering coughs, bad knees, a thrown out back, mosh pit injuries, and toxic hangovers. I once battled strep throat in a mill shack in Atlanta in February with no heat, spending days on end submerged in hot water in my bathtub to counteract the fever chills. But never have I been so miserable for so long as this past week, when a laundry soap allergy laid me low.
Let's just say that a violent rash on certain parts of the human anatomy is a pretty good argument against a benevolent god. On the other hand, it does lend evidence to the god-as-an-immature-bastard side of things.
6 comments:
My mosh-pit injuries are long gone, but I used to come home from weekends in NYC spent at CBGB wondering why my ears were ringing and my shoulders felt dislocated.
And yeah, the gods are playing tricks on you with the violent rash on your junk. That shit just ain't right.
There's just nothing else to say about it. It just ain't right.
Dang. That's all kinds of messed up, DG. You have my best wishes for a swift recovery.
that's what I tell all the gals, "laundry soap baby, it's just an allergy"
do you want to read the poem i wrote specially for my myspace blog? yes? okay.
ben franklin be damned
fleas are proof
there is a god
he hates us
Y'all are cracking me the hell up. Yep, fleas are a torment, but this was unlike anything else I'd ever experienced. Thank god for antibiotics, steroid cream, and good ol' salt water.
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