TMI Theatre

Through sheer force of will, I moved past the old mosquito bite and onto a new mosquito bite – thoughtfully located so that I can itch it to my little hearts content out in public and look like I need to be treated for scabies and not like I need to be treated for some unspeakable girly parts issue.

Now, if the mosquito had gone exploring under my bra – there are many housebound virginal 41 year old male internet freaks users who would be willing to pay bug bucks through Paypal(tm) to download grainy streaming video of a chick rooting around in her bra, but even I am not that big of a hit whore and also I don’t have a web cam. If I’m going to make money off my misery I’ll have to do it old school style: By standing in front of an open window scratching myself for the passersbys. What? It’s been working for Britney Spears for the last year or so why can’t it work for me?

Protecting me from myself is my hated enemy The Band Aid. It was put one of those sticky bastards over the bite or end up with some sort of cheap blue slacks borne virus and in real life I can’t go to Princeton –Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to have House to find out the cause but only after he and his associates torment me with painful and invasive procedures to find out a little Bactrim™ was all I really needed. So, in real life, now entering Band Aid City not far from Boogie Town located at the Electric Avenue exit. Now that I can’t get to the bite, I can play with the band aid. Which is almost better. But I also have to work and be useful.

I can only be useful for so much time. Eventually I am going to slack off and begin to obsess over something – usually my split ends or checking to see if there is anything new in the last four minutes at Atrios, but today it was the band aids’ turn to torment me. It took several hours for me to get properly worked up over it, helped along no doubt by the fact I forgot the band aid was there.

When it comes to foreign objects on my body and how long it will take me to complete a search and destroy mission for them - it’s always been an out of sight out of mind thing - for example band aid on my foot? Most likely going to stay, band aid I can get to with out removing clothing or figuring out how to get my stockings off at my desk? Living on borrowed time. I totally respect what they are supposed to do and why I put it there in the first place- you know, protect from bacteria, irritants such as my clothing, me,whatever. But they must go.

I’m also thinking that if you pick at a band aid all day it is not really allowed to protect whatever it is it is there to protect – but I don’t care! I want that foreign thing gone and then I want to see what damage that foreign thing did to me while it was there. Did it leave the hated stickum? That I then feel compelled to pick at as well? did it make the skin underneath it all red? did it leave a mark?! Ahhhhhh!

It doesn’t help that all band aids are not created the same. Cheap band aids have the widest variations in quality : They either have almost no adhesive at all and thus fall off even if I’m not playing with it or they have such strong adhesive that they could be used by NASA to keep heat shields on during re-entry. In either case they are going to irritate me and as soon as I remember the band aid is there, I start jonesing to get the band aid off. Lather, rinse, repeat. All damn day.