My exciting life.
Oct. 19th, 2007 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spookyeviloneMy tum demanded Oreos, so when I left work, I swung by the Kwik-E-Mart and purchased some, even though it made my soul shrivel and die a little bit to support a store that insists on a phonetic spelling.
Tearing open the pack, I began devouring my chocolatey cookie goodness, because the tum is to be obeyed at all times, lest I want it to punish me and send me to the ER for no valid reason. 1 I was a block from the bus stop when I was accosted by an angry, elderly black man who proceeded to open his mouth and spew forth a tidalwave of crazy.
"What's that you eatin', girl? Oreos? You puttin' that chemical crap in your body? Don't you know it bad for you? It got lard in it! LAAARRRRD! Made from dead pigs! How you can eat that shit!? It's all just lard and sugar! Not even real sugar but that stuff made from corn. Corn shouldn't be no sweetener! How you gonna just walk along and eat that? Don't you know better? They use child labor. They's little kids in China or somewhere makin' those things for cents on the dollar! You're supporting child abuse! HOW CAN YOU DO THAT?! How can you eat those lard and sugar cookies when IT HURTS CHILDREN THE WAY IT DO?!"
Thankfully, after years of living with my half-sister2, I speak fluent crazytalk. I listened as his angry, shouting voice echoed off the marble of the buildings around me, waited for him to take a breath, and calmly asked, "Would you like one?" I offered him the box. He drew himself up with extreme dignity and said calmly, "Yes, I would." He took a cookie, thanked me politely, and went on his way.
This shit only happens to me.
1 I have Acute Intermittent Porphyria. If I don't keep my blood glucose, carbs, potassium, and sodium above a certain level, I wind up with excruciating abdominal pain that has no apparent cause, but requires a hospital visit and a steady demerol drip to fix. The diet is a pretty sweet deal. The hospital visits are not, so I obey the tum when it says, "Bitch, feed me (sugar/salt/bread)!"
2 My half-sister has bipolar disorder and is unmedicated. She's evil. I'm pretty sure she'd be evil even without the mental illness, but living with someone who flies into psychotic, frothing, screaming, physically abusive rages for the first 19 years of my life may have biased me against her.
Tearing open the pack, I began devouring my chocolatey cookie goodness, because the tum is to be obeyed at all times, lest I want it to punish me and send me to the ER for no valid reason. 1 I was a block from the bus stop when I was accosted by an angry, elderly black man who proceeded to open his mouth and spew forth a tidalwave of crazy.
"What's that you eatin', girl? Oreos? You puttin' that chemical crap in your body? Don't you know it bad for you? It got lard in it! LAAARRRRD! Made from dead pigs! How you can eat that shit!? It's all just lard and sugar! Not even real sugar but that stuff made from corn. Corn shouldn't be no sweetener! How you gonna just walk along and eat that? Don't you know better? They use child labor. They's little kids in China or somewhere makin' those things for cents on the dollar! You're supporting child abuse! HOW CAN YOU DO THAT?! How can you eat those lard and sugar cookies when IT HURTS CHILDREN THE WAY IT DO?!"
Thankfully, after years of living with my half-sister2, I speak fluent crazytalk. I listened as his angry, shouting voice echoed off the marble of the buildings around me, waited for him to take a breath, and calmly asked, "Would you like one?" I offered him the box. He drew himself up with extreme dignity and said calmly, "Yes, I would." He took a cookie, thanked me politely, and went on his way.
This shit only happens to me.
1 I have Acute Intermittent Porphyria. If I don't keep my blood glucose, carbs, potassium, and sodium above a certain level, I wind up with excruciating abdominal pain that has no apparent cause, but requires a hospital visit and a steady demerol drip to fix. The diet is a pretty sweet deal. The hospital visits are not, so I obey the tum when it says, "Bitch, feed me (sugar/salt/bread)!"
2 My half-sister has bipolar disorder and is unmedicated. She's evil. I'm pretty sure she'd be evil even without the mental illness, but living with someone who flies into psychotic, frothing, screaming, physically abusive rages for the first 19 years of my life may have biased me against her.
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Date: 2007-10-20 04:28 am (UTC)