Damn it...

...every single time I start to feel sorry for myself, some poor schmuck one up's me. I can never feel sorry for myself for any length of time and that's not fair. I should be able to have an occasional pity party without hearing about someone who's worse off than I am. It totally blows the entire celebration.

Here I am, freaking out over the worms on my ceiling and as I was whining about that to you guys, a lady was having brain surgery to remove a tumor. At least that's what she thought was happening. She had all the signs of a tumor. But...the story goes more like this, "Doctors in Arizona thought a Phoenix-area woman had a possible brain tumor, but it turned out there was something else penetrating her brain – a worm."

Now, how badly can I feel over those suckers crawling on the ceiling? At least I don't have worms in my brain. Of course, I can't be sure, but I had brain surgery myself in '99 and they didn't find any worms then. If they had, I'm sure they would have mentioned it.

That story reminds me of a time when I was working in the operating room and we had to set up for an abdominal pull through. Without going into details, trust me...it's a HUGE surgery and it took close to two hours just to set the instruments up. This was all for a patient who also had a "tumor". As soon as the patient was knocked out, the surgeon put him in stirrups so that he could access the tumor. (It was supposedly colon cancer.)

The surgeon was able to pull the "tumor" down a bit and out just enough to see that it wasn't a tumor, it was just the biggest hemorrhoid any of us had ever seen. It was easily the size of my fist. That guy expected to wake up with a colostomy and colon cancer. Instead, he woke up down one hemorrhoid and a little soreness when sitting. Can you imagine how happy he and his family were? That 'roid was one for the record books...I wonder if that guy ever did call Guiness?

I'm not sure how happy the worm lady will be...sure it wasn't a tumor but it was a WORM! Something like that would have me freaked out for the rest of my life. Actually, I may remain freaked out just from reading that story.

I just cannot imagine how in the world a worm could get through the blood-brain barrier that keeps stuff out of the central nervous system. But, it did. The story said that this particular type of worm is one that you could get from not washing your hands after using a public toilet. I'll have to start washing my hands every time I use one of those whether there's someone else watching me or not.

When I go into a public restroom, I do everything in my power not to touch ANYTHING. Of course, my ass touches the toilet but I can't just stand in a public loo scrubbing THAT clean. (By the way...to the women who squat over the toilet without touching it...if you can't aim, you should at least wipe the seat off. I sure don't want to do that but if I walk in after you, I don't have much of a choice if the seat is full of old pee.) I can do everything that I need to do in there without touching anything...unless some nit wit pees on the toilet. THAT I need to use my hands for and I can't stand that thought. Men, when your woman bitches that you left the seat up, follow her into a public restroom to see if she left the seat full of urine. There are a LOT of women out there bitching at men for leaving the seats up when all along, those chicks are leaving puddles of pee for other people to sit in. If I had to choose who to follow, a dude who leaves the seat up or a chick who leaves the seat wet, I'd choose the dude.

Anyway, now that the lady has had her brain exterminated, her troubles are just beginning. Once you have a worm removed from your brain, you pretty much have to live with the nickname "Worm Head". Every single time she makes a stupid little mistake, people will ask her, "Do you have another worm in your brain?" Behind her back people will say, "Be patient with her, she's the brain worm lady!"

Is a worm better than cancer...yes. But still not any fun. Now she has to check the rest of herself...and anything that comes out of her...for worms. This is just hideous. My ceiling worms are icky and they make my head itch just knowing that they were up there...but I can't imagine what worms inside of me would do. I can run away from a lot of stuff, but I can't run away from brain worms.

I'm getting the shivering willies just thinking about this crap...I have to stop the worm discussion before I need an appointment to deal with my worm issues.

Before I go, think of me the next time you use a public toilet and remember to wash your hands! And ladies...a worm head is better than a seat pee-er.

I creeped myself out...


...again. I'm not finished with the worm war, I'm still fighting it and apparently I will have to fight it until all of the generations complete the life cycle. I do so hate those hideous suckers.

I was getting one off of the ceiling and instead I just knocked it down and I thought to myself..."What is the worse case scenario?" That would have been if the atrocious little bastard fell into my shirt and down what's left of my cleavage. So that's where I looked first. I'm glad that I looked instead of waiting until I felt it wiggling around. See...this is why I get so creeped out.

I threw away everything that wasn't in a can or in the fridge. Look around, that's a lot of stuff. Then I washed the shelves down with flea shampoo...don't ask me why. The only things left in the cabinet were the things that I cleaned them with and a box of moth balls.

Yesterday I was taking the smaller mothballs and slipping them in between the ceiling and the cabinet wherever I had room. I poured some out to look for the smaller balls that would fit in the smaller place. Guess what I saw at the bottom of the box? Those damned larvae were pupating in the bottom of a box of moth balls. I was stunned. So, I had to toss the moth balls. I've got to move, this place smells like a grandmother's house.

It rained quite a bit yesterday so when a girlfriend of mine came over, she tracked leaves through my kitchen. I was annoyed. Every so often the wind that blows in from under the door will blow out another leaf and without my glasses on, it looks like a huge bug running through my kitchen. I want to run away but there's no place to go.

All this worm talk has generated some odd search results that drop people off here. One person got here by searching "worms in pussy". I never, ever discussed pussy warms. Brain worms, Indian Meal Moths and their larvae on the ceiling but no pussy worms. Heck, I'm a nurse and I've never even heard of pussy worms. The reason that I'm even mentioning the pussy worms is so that I can attract someone searching for pussy worms. (Good luck with that!)

I have to know something, why are you looking for pussy worms? Is there such a thing? Unfortunately with the Patriot Act and the FBI, I wouldn't have a "pussy worm" search on my computer. If anything happened it could end up on CNN and then someone would think that I have pussy worms and I don't. I have never had one, never seen one and never even heard of this affliction. I'll tell you this, if there was a pussy worm epidemic it would be a plague of biblical proportions. Even if I were the only one to have it. Pussy worms would suck.

Anyway, I hope that the person who may or may not have stumbled across a pussy worm here or there will be a good sport and let themselves be known. I know you're out there.

Of course, when you write about pussy as much as I do, you do tend to get a lot of "pussy this" or "pussy that" searches so it's not really a big deal...but worms? Ick.

Maybe I should write about dicks for a while...ya think? Oh no...I know! How about this, if you're a guy and you think that going forever is what every woman wants, you could actually be wrong. What you should do is, after say...a half an hour...ask her if she's into the marathon. You've got a 50/50 chance that she's up for it so go ahead.

But one way or another, you should let her know what's going on. After a half an hour we don't know if you're going so long for you, for us or because you have one of those retarded ejaculation type things. We just need a quick update, that's all I'm saying. There might be something we can do to help things along.

(You'll be happy to know that I just deleted a very graphic sentence about dick worms.)

Oh...as I was cleaning things in the kitchen, I came across every pair of glasses that I've broken over the past 12 years. That's a considerable number of glasses, let me tell you. Whenever I broke the frames, they would be discontinued so I could never get the glasses fixed. Anyway, between frames with one lens and loose lenses floating around, I have a pile of lenses that are going to waste. I have decided to put them to use in a very creative yet extremely gaudy way.

I'm going to make paper mache frames and then I'll paint them some wild colors. I have plenty of paint, I could paint them a different color whenever I wanted to. Or I could make stripes, polka dots or stars...whatever the occasion calls for. Yeah, that's the ticket...paper mache (or papier mache, however you spell it) frames.

They'll be Meg originals. Sweet.

I give up...

...and I fully admit that I came to the South on my own. It wasn't my idea but I wasn't in shackles and I was a full grown woman when I got here. I could have left any number of times. Now I'm stuck and I can't figure out how to get the hell out of here. Someone needs to come and get me.

My birthday is next Monday and when people ask me what I want, I don't know what to tell them. I pretty much just want to get the hell out of dodge. How can I tell the locals that my birthday wish is to leave them and they're pick up trucks and get as far away as I can? Oh well, my official answer is that I want to go on a vacation, far, far away from here.

The 23rd was the anniversary of my mother's death and the night before that, I dreamt about her. I hadn't been thinking much about her lately because of all the stupid shit I've been dealing with. But, when I woke up that morning I remembered that I dreamt my mother won 23 million dollars in the lottery. So, since she died on the 23rd and she won 23 million in the dream that I had on that day, I had to take that as some sort of message. Naturally, I bought lottery tickets. I rarely do that because I don't have the kind of luck that it takes to find a decent coupon for dog food, there's no way that I would think that I could win the lottery. But, that day I did. The drawing is on the night of the 30th, come back then and I'll let you know if I'm rich or if I'm still just an idiot with rotten luck.

I walked to the store that day because I had to walk the dog anyway. As I was walking, I looked up in the sky and saw a perfect X made out of clouds. Of course I took that as another message and kept walking to buy my lottery tickets. Then, a couple of minutes later, I looked up to see the X but it was gone and had been replaced with a great big cloud heart. My sisters are usually more into that kind of stuff than I am but what the heck, I'll play along.

Once more, as I tried to have a pity party, I was smacked in the face with people much worse off than I am. Remember when I had the worms on my ceiling that turned out to be moth larvae? I bitched about that until some woman had a real worm removed from her brain. Now, I'm sitting here nursing my injuries from the weekend and other people are dropping like flies.

When I was much, much, much younger, my father would let us stay up long enough to watch Johnny Carson's monologue before he sent us off to bed. I never missed Ed McMahon's deep voice saying "Here's Johnny!" When I was discovering boys, there were a couple of them who took my world by storm and one of them was Michael Jackson. When my son was a baby, I would drive from Petaluma to LA to visit a cousin who happened to live in the same complex as Dick Van Patton. His wife's best friend would be there occasionally and I was lucky enough to meet her a few times. Her name was Farrah Faucett.

OK, Ed McMahon was an old man. But Farrah wasn't that much older than I and Michael Jackson was 2 months younger. This is getting creepy. I guess I'm getting to that age where people I know are going to start croaking on a regular basis. My grandparents would read the obituaries daily to see what acquaintances had died. I won't be doing that. I'm sort of freaking out over all the dead people and I don't need to look for more bad news, it always seems to find me sooner or later anyway.

I remember having great-grandparents, grandparents and parents. They always insured that I had a bit of a death buffer but now my father is the only one left, I'm on deck and I'm rather unnerved about that. And my father isn't really much of a buffer because that SOB is gonna live to be 104 and I'll be gone before he hits 80. He asked me to die after he dies but I can only do so much. He needs to take up smoking or some other unhealthy vice or he's gonna bury more kids than this one.

Now I'm really freaking myself out so I must go do something to get my mind off of my own impending death. I'll be back soon...I hope.

SEARCH THIS!

The Afghan insurrection is a bitch...

...and Tiger Woods seems to have some explaining to do. If he IS a cheating husband, and I'm sure the the retiring Oprah would agree, Tiger's wife would be the only person entitled to any information from Tige. It looks like the cops have left Tiger alone and simply ticketed the allegedly errant husband. The rest of us should do the same and say, "I'd rather hear stuff about the unbeaten New Orleans Saints and hope to God that they annihilate Minnesota in the Super Bowl.

Now, I suppose I've already disappointed many searchers out there but even though I may have already jumped the shark, I think I'll even pick on President Obama a bit...not because he's irritated me at all, he hasn't. I even got a kick out of his pardon of turkeys Courage and Carolina. Where did Courage come from? I don't know. I just know that I enjoy Presidential Turkey Pardons and have ever since George Bush the 1rst made it a official function of our Commander-in-Chief. That's pretty neat stuff...as Miley Cyrus and her father Billy Cyrus would say.

You know, I watched the Perky One on CBS News last night and I was amazed at how tiny her eyes were. Also, I was brow furrowed by the way Katie Couric wore her glasses...for the Republican Senator, she didn't wear glasses but for the next guy, she did. What's up with that? In the Emergency Department of Olympic Hospital they have TV's that you can pull really close to your face so you would think that a big network news show could figure out a way to either, put crap closer to Couric or just leave the glasses ON and back everything the hell up. I don't know if she has myopia, presbyopia, astigmatism or a tic that involves putting glasses on...but one of the Top 3 Networks should be able to pull that one off. They could even have the South Park show animators draw a pair of glasses on her face so she doesn't look quite so schizophrenic.

You may have noticed that I am trying to see how many searches find their was here because of all of the iconic, social and entertainment references that I'm haphazardly stringing together here. Now I am going to bask in the land of porn so you have been warned, skip this paragraph if you want to...it's something that Craigslist would most likely have flagged for removal (cowards that they can be...or maybe they're just lazy, I haven't figured it out yet.) Anyway, for some odd reason that I cannot POSSIBLY fathom...and I have given FAR too much thought to fathoming...people land on my blog by searching pussy worms. I don't get that. I did worms on my ceiling once, but never pussy worms. Also, I get a lot of hits from people who search for "women who like to suck pussy". I don't really get that. The only pussy I have ever sucked is this one:

...See? Why should men or women obsessed with pussy come here? I discuss pussy's, dicks and the late Michael Jackson almost as often as I discuss penis's, men on men sex or lesbianism...and that's not too often. But still, perverts of all persuasions find their way to Divorcing Rick Kelso. I get submissive, dominant, sado-masochist, great ass lovers as well as huge natural tit aficionados. Oh well, what goes on between consenting adults behind closed doors...

Sometimes I understand the searches. I get a lot of, 'wife gets revenge on husband', how much anti-freeze does it take to kill a man'? and 'Lorena Bobbitt: Where is she now?' I even understand the searches for deformed penis pictures, after all, I discussed my ex's messed up member a LOT.

Sadly, there seem to be an inordinate number of 'My husband left me when I got Multiple Sclerosis' which explains the searches for 'How to hide a dead husband".

Anyway, That's about it for now, but before I go, I need to annoy people who deserved to be annoyed:

Star Trek Conventions

Van Wilder 3

Greenhouse gasses, global warming and gay marriage

Angelina Jolie

Chelsea Clinton's fiancé

Where's Waldo?

Where is Carrot-top performing?

Donny Osmond should have won Dancing with the Stars

Will there be another Rocky movie?

Find your local KKK meeting

The new Windex is yellow, can I still use it on my windows?

Bi-sexual college sluts

Bi-curious men

OK, I'm done for now. If you happen to think of other worthy searches, please, don't hesitate to put them in the comments section!

And that's the way it is.

-Walter Cronkite

Earlier this week...

...I cleaned my house well. (All except for the kitchen floor, the animals just mess it up again so I usually just sweep it.) There's a small amount of evidence that I've been living here, but I could probably clean the whole place up within an hour or so.

That's a good thing because I'm having company this weekend. Not for the entire weekend, just for a while. I'm so excited about it that I don't know what to do! Naturally I have to do that last hour of housework...but after that, I'm all a dither.

I'd bake something but I have to toss every single box, bag and bottle of food in my house. I'll keep the cans, but only after I wash them in soapy water. I think that's the only way that I'll ever get rid of the moths that have decided to live here with me.

If anyone out there knows anything else I can do about the Indianmeal moth, let me know. The only info that I can find says to throw everything away. I would think there might be something else to do after the food is all gone.

You know those fly strips that you hang from the ceiling to catch flies with? I hung one up over the sink yesterday and I have to throw it away today. Not because I caught a lot of moths, but because I nabbed a bunch of larvae. After I knocked them off the ceiling, I used the strip to pick them up with because I was just too creeped out to use tissue. They're only in the kitchen but that's bad enough.

Anyway, now the strip is moving because of all of the little fuckers that are on it. Here, look at it move, just a little bit:




It so gives me the willies. I keep thinking that there's a bug of some sort in my hair. I live in a heavily wooded area and there are spiders and giant ants and all kinds of creep crawlys. This is like my absolute worst nightmare.

And now to have them invading my home. It's just too much for me. I even asked 2 ex's yesterday. One owns a pest control company and he's never heard of worms on the ceiling. He did say that "worms" wouldn't be able to stay on the ceiling so I guess I should call them by their rightful name, moth larvae. Ick, ick, ick. The other ex was totally useless and said that I should "kill them when I see them..." Well...DUH! I wasn't going to let them run and hide in my cabinets. I don't even know why I bothered asking Rick...I guess because he was on the phone while I was thinking about them. And, OMG I've been thinking a lot about them lately!

Damn...it keeps feeling like things are in my hair! And there's too much hair to go through. Rick and I discussed that too. He always said that he preferred short hair so I pretty much kept my hair short for our entire marriage. I haven't cut it since he left and now he says that he likes me with long hair. Go figure.

That fly strip is moving more now than it did before, I guess some of them are having the fight of their lives up there. I hope they suffer. I made a deal with things under 10 pounds...if they stay outside, I won't kill them.

Once those little shits enter my adobe, game's on!!!

When I was researching those moth things, one site said to take the boxs that are full of the worms and feed it to the birds. Another site says to bury it deep in the ground. I think I'll let the City of Marietta handle those little bastards.

I wish I had one of those protective suits that the guys wore in E.T., I don't want to take the slightest chance of a bug, no matter what stage of life it's in, touching me and I have a feeling that I may very well touch at least one as I empty my kitchen of hundreds of dollars worth of food.

Damn, I wonder if those cookies I made last summer were...no, they couldn't have been. I refuse to accept that.

In case you're wondering...

...what's going on right now, I'll tell you. I feel totally afraid, almost to a panic state but I'm easily able to "keep a lid on it for now". The best way to explain how I feel today is this...you know that feeling you get when you hear the tck tck tck of a roller coaster as you go up the first hill? Then, as you make that first turn, right before you can see the ground, there's a special feeling with that experience. I have it now. Add to that a huge sense of impending doom and you have a good idea of what I'm going through.

My first reaction to this fear crap is usually medicinal...especially if it gets this bad. But, I've taken a full milligram of xanax and I feel as though I never took it. That's the most I ever take at once although I think I'm getting to the point where I might need a higher dose. That's actually a hefty dose already, but when I feel like this, it might just be necessary. But, right now that's not an option and I can't take another one for hours. Actually I could, but it's probably not a good idea.

So, that leaves me with my reasoning powers. I keep telling myself that whatever happens, I'm not going to perish. After all, what's the worst that COULD happen? As long as I know my kids are fine, I'm fine. So, seriously...why do I feel like this?

I can't be the only one whose gone through this. As usual, I'm one of the few people to be totally transparent about it but if I've learned anything, I've learned that I rarely experience a totally new human experience. There's ALWAYS someone else going through the exact same thing. So, I risk sounding rather self absorbed in hopes that someone else gets this. Remember the bubble to which I've referred a couple times? That bubble is a bad bubble. It's a scary bubble and it demands my attention whether I want it to or not. So, yeah..if I do sound ridiculous and even childish at times, know this; I'm being as honest with you as I can be with myself. And know that I can wallow in self pity, as long as I write it down and then look at it again later. That will speed up the end of the pity party and that's a good thing.

Pity is pretty useless anyway. Whenever I even try to feel badly for myself, something happens that shows me how badly someone else has it. The best example of that had to be the worm invasion I repelled a few years ago. Just as it was raining worms in my kitchen and I wanted to cry, some lady had brain surgery for what turned out to be a huge worm in her brain. How the hell does that shit happen? That lesson wasn't even wrapped in a parable...it was right in my face. If that piqued your curiosity, you can read my worm story here:

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/search?q=worms+on+my+ceiling