I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Diametric diarrhea

There are times in one’s life where certain bodily functions are blocked, while other times they flow uncontrollably, like, well, you know…

These erratic, tragic eruptions come when you least expect them (and they will happen in the worst of places, namely at church, in the library, and at the grocery store check-out line). You’ll have to run far, far away from anyone due to sheer embarrassment and the fact they’ll look for the culprit (you), and point their fingers while making the face.

There are multiple triggers: eating food that is prepared at a shady-looking, Eastern-inspired restaurant where a pack of dogs hover around the kitchen entrance (only to mysteriously disappear at dinner time); finding an ex in a store, willing them to go away with your mental powers of persuasion, but they don’t since you don’t have mental powers of persuasion, so you end up hiding behind tall shelves trying desperately to avoid any kind of eye or physical contact (not that I would know from first hand experience); or realizing family is coming over and you have to endure eight excruciating hours of “What is wrong with you? You are so ungrateful after all I’ve done for you. I should’ve never given birth to you. You are not my child!!”

You don’t know what to do. You’re left speechless, or you ramble uncontrollably. There is a name for this and it's called Mental Irritability Syndrome (MIS) - the inability to control the departure of certain words or thoughts in your mind at a specific time. The result can be a spewing of random, unconscious ramblings at the most inopportune moments.

Being proactive, I’ve decided to come up with an effective solution for any future occurrences: I am using a dictionary and thesaurus as a means of research. If there is a blockage (or spewage) due to MIS, I’ll make a mental note to come back to it later (because I won't be carrying around two books with me), hoping it wasn’t a mistake, per se (horrible joke, I know). Later, the grammatical error will be disposed of, like so much crap that occupies my mind.

Also, for future reference, I will abstain from eating at dodgy-looking places, avoid exes in public spaces, and make up an excuse for when my family wants to visit (like I’m having unnecessary surgery that day).

But I can’t guarantee any of that, because for me, MIS is a euphemism of shit for brains.


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