Poison Oak

The Author has poison oak. The author is stupid. The author has been very sensitive to the oils of this evil, evil plant since he was a very little boy. The author tried to look up the scientific name for poison oak on google, but got bored with that persuit very quickly. From here on out I will call it Hitler, because poison oak is evil, and according to my history classes in school, so was Hitler. Maybe I will call it Hitler Bush, or Nazi Bush. I like those names. Wonder why.

I've spent the past three days watching tv and sitting in one place for long periods of time. This is not like me. I am the type of person that likes to at least believe that he is accomplishing something at any given moment, even if he is simply driving around stoned trying to think of something to accomplish.

My goal this past week was very simple: Sit in one place and while away the day watching tv. Give in to the slack. Do not leave the house. Do not record or write anything. Do not go to work. Do not go to band practice. Do not pick up the phone.

My mother brought over some DVD's for me to watch on my dad's 13 inch dvd/tv combo thingie that he uses when he goes to trade shows. I have watched the entire first three seasons of Seinfeld almost without break. I could get into the psychological ramifications of such a feat, but I'm not sure that I have the requisite distance from the event.

Back to the Hitler Bush.

When I was an 8 or 9 year old kid, I went out with some friends to PLAY. There was this place in the neighborhood that we discovered behind some strangers house one day. It was the forest. It was kind of like what is behind Calvin's house in Calvin and Hobbes. This was a pretty important discovery. We spent the day running around and doing whatever it is kids do for hours and hours on end. Hiding, Seeking, Climbing, Jumping, Building, Destroying, Etc. I still have some images of left in my memory from that wonderful day of play.

I didn't have to go to school all the next week, but it wasn't worth it. My mom tells me that people were giving her dirty looks in the emergency room. I had this Hitler rash all over my body, and it looked like someone had beat the shit out of me. My face was puffed up like a pink chipmonk. I won't go into detail about what bathing was like but I will tell you that Hitler was an evil motherfucker.

Now I am in the recovery stage. I am back at work. (How else would I be writing this?) I said that I will be at band practice, but I'm not sure that I really want to go. Work involves sitting around and shuffling papers. Band practice would involve movement and stuff. I still have a pretty healthy Hitler-spot on my ankle. Fuck you Hitler. Fuck you.

This post probably could have been way longer but I haven't been at work all week and shit is piling up.