Thursday, January 25, 2007

A Day In The Life Of A Wounded Crow - Volume 2

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I realize that it would be easy to say that there is nothing worse than being a single parent that is really sick, but I would like to have the opportunity to prove it to all of you, if I can have a moment. Aside from the obvious ramifications of attempting to nurse yourself back to health, with the three little a-holes running around full of energy because they feel great {now that you are done nursing them back to health from the obvious malady they brought home from school} and just want to show the world! I happen to have a really old a-hole also limping around the house rather jealous that sick little old me hasn’t got the energy to take care of her from the various cases of “hypochondria” that she has been suffering from for the last 30 or 40 years. As I have been laying here in my bed with the laptop sitting there next to me I have pondered the history of being sick for me and being a typical man, I want to whine.

Starting the whine festival I would like to remind you that my mother left when I was 5 {which of course is more for the newer readers than the older ones as I tend to bring it up a lot} so it isn’t stories of chicken soup and kisses on the forehead from momma, and quite frankly it realistically reminds me that I never really got sick as a kid. Now that I think about it, I never really got sick until I married my first wife, so I guess I will start from there. Being sick with EX1 around was a real treat, despite the fact that I didn’t have much experience being sick, I probably should have practiced a lot more before I was married to the meanest woman that ever lived. I still liken her to the snow witch that would walk through a garden and the flowers would curl over and die. The first time I caught the flu at work I came home and did what I had heard you do from Sesame Street on, and tried to curl up in bed and sleep it off. This was rather hard to do with a woman who wouldn’t leave your side, shut the fuck up, or muster up any compassion. Her constant reminders of what a baby I was {like all men} didn’t exactly help my attitude at all, and come to think of it, when I recovered from that flu bug, the first thing I did was put a lock on the inside of the bedroom door, so I could lock her the hell out, if I ever got sick again. The answer is yes, and it resulted in listening to pounding on the door the whole time too.

The second wife I have immortalized for her ability to take care of people, and it really was no different when we were married, it’s just that she would wear sexy “whore” outfits to have sex with me, and remaining married to her for the sake of the children seemed like the right thing to do. Her bedside manner was so infamous that our marriage pretty much ended when she ran off with a drug dealer while I was in the hospital after nearly dying because she ignored my pneumonia. I guess looking back on it all, I probably could have gotten a bit whiney through all of that but she wasn’t around to know, and the nurse from the hospital said I was a lot better than most. The rehabilitation process from the collapsed lung {and the cheating ass whore of an ex-wife that I wanted to sub consciously get even with}, ended up turning me into an ubra gym junkie with a 5% body fat and 18 inch biceps within 6 months, so I guess that I weathered that storm ok. She still tells the kids that I whine when I am sick, but my oldest reminds her that she whines when she is well.

EX3 was not a very caring person to the sick and downtrodden either. Her girlfriend came over here the last time she got sick to get away from her, so I am not alone in those regards, but she was another person who the very first time I had gotten under the weather immediately started with the “Oh God, you’re going to get whiney!” which of course made me pissy. Who wants to be sick and have combative people constantly treating you like a burden? I mean realistically all I ever want when I am sick is to be left alone and here I am right now, to afraid to get more than 50 feet away from a toilet and I am inundated with a 6 year old, an 8 year old, and a 77 year old that want nothing more than to be standing between me and that toilet asking stupid questions. I mean realistically there should be a rule on how many questions you are allowed to ask a sick person before they actually start to get annoyed, then breaking over into that threshold of being downright irritable! “Do you want something to eat?” {No thank you} “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” {No I am quite serious, I don’t want anything to eat} “I could make you some Macaroni & Cheese?” {Look, I have my food coming out of me at both ends rather uncomfortably and I would prefer not to be adding more fuel to the rockets, OK?} which now leads to the insistence that I am being a miserable person. ARG! I would be a perfectly fine person if you could A. Leave me alone … B. Learn to cook things that don’t make most healthy people sick … C. MOVE!!!!

Now of course I had just sat down again after trying to make a B-Line to the bathroom with a 6 year old attached to my leg thinking that it was funny, to hang on as daddy tried to get from point A to point B. The humor was in actually watching her run from the bathroom screaming as daddy didn’t have time to explain to her that what she was about to see would be really really gross and would probably smell terrible. It was a lesson that she was just going to have to learn the hard was, and fortunately being a bad father I was able to find the humor between lurches of her falling up the stairs and all of the “ooches” and “ouches” that she was making as she was doing so, but it didn’t keep her from just being told off about jumping on me right now as I am trying to type and keep my intestines down. I think she just broke my pancreas! I should recover from whatever form of typhoid, or pneumonic plague that they gave me, just in time for a new bout of it to be hand selected and introduced into my system by one of these little bastards. You notice the only one that is locked away in her own room is the oldest daughter, completely avoiding any and all of this commotion, and that is why SHE never gets sick. I guess I’ll have to stop treating her like she’ll never learn, but I hope she is at least taking notes for when she is a parent. ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, fuck ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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Jeremy Fink and The Crow's Nest