Take heed fair reader, for today’s blog is a bit on the odd side. One might say in today’s nomenclature, that it is NSFW (Not Safe For Work) There’s nothing nasty, filthy, perverse or truly horrible within, but if you never wanted to know certain things about me, then turn back now! Skip down to the “Books” heading! Today I’m aiming to talk about going to the bathroom. Hitting the head, making water, going potty, visiting the loo, and more specifically, the changes that occur when living in a different state.
Odd topic for a blog? Probably. Certainly for the blogs I frequent, though I’m sure there are blogs out there exclusively dedicated to bathroom activities. Those are probably extremely not safe for work. But it’s something that I’d noticed quite some time ago and I thought it was intriguing and now, here it is again.
After high school, I lived in California for a while. Not very long, but around a year. I’d actually gone down there from Idaho to visit my best friend Rob, who was living down there. The plan was for me to ride down with him, spend a few weeks and get a ride back North with his brother when he visited. Well, his brother ended up having car trouble or something and couldn’t make it, indefinitely. That left me stranded, sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor of Rob’s apartment with his dog, Devil, who was a little too fond of the sleeping bag.
Now that I think about it, there have been two times that I’ve found myself stranded while on a Rob-related trip. I can’t blame him for it, he and I went on many a trip, usually looking for antiques or comic books or antique comic books but this was the only other time I’ve ever been involved with a road trip that Rob’s brother, Derek was attached to. The other time was in Leavenworth in December.
It is suddenly very clear to me that I need to avoid any trip planning related to Derek at all costs. He is a bad luck charm, without a doubt.
AT any rate, I found myself stranded in Santa Clarita, CA, with Rob, his wife at the time and Devil. Well, we made the most of it, Rob and I got jobs unloading trucks at the local Wal-Mart and we worked out butts off. It wasn’t uncommon to have a paycheck with 10-20 overtime hours on it, and it was hard, strenuous work the entire shift.
At first, I hated California. It was hot, humid, ugly… It still is. I was miserable. I didn’t feel like moving, or breathing and my entire body felt like it had been doused in someone else’s armpit sweat.
Part of that was because, after living there for about a month, my own body chemistry seemed to change. My deodorant stopped being as efficient and I had to switch brands, and things started smelling different, more sulfuric, especially my urine. (Ooh look, now, you think to yourself, NOW he gets to the ooky part.) It may have been the water. Despite the residents protests, I drank the tap water and I drank a lot of it. I also ate a lot more fruit out there. At the time it was plentiful, cheap and really fresh.
So I started smelling different. After a while I got used to it, the humidity stopped bothering me as much and things got into a type of rhythm. Then, I moved back to Idaho, riding the Greyhound bus, which was an experience that deserves a whole other blog.
Then, it happened again. About a month after living in Idaho, my body started changing. Now my pee smelled… dirtier, like a fresh, soil scent. Musty, I guess.
Oddly, when I moved to Montana from Idaho, nothing really changed. Maybe the move wasn’t radical enough, the water and food too similar.
Now, here in Maine, it’s happening again. Only this time it’s a stronger ammonia smell, a sharp, almost vinegary smell. Am I sick? Are you for reading this? Probably the second part at least.
Maybe it’s all the malt vinegar on my chips or the questionable motel water that leaves you feeling kind of slimy after a shower. Even the soda tastes odd out here, a strange aftertaste in the back of your tongue.
All I know is that it had better equalize or I’d better get accustomed to it, ‘cause right now, it’s kind of icking me out.
I’m still digging my nook. A lot. Which is why it annoys me so much that I now have cracks on the forward buttons on both sides of the device. I’ve read ten books since my nook came about 20 days ago, as well as half of Stephen King’s “The Stand”, which is the equivalent of at least one more book, and while that’s a lot of page turns, that is not that much. Not for a device that is designed to be used to page forward. That’s its entire reason for existing.
Barnes and Noble are replacing the cracked fronts, though it sounds like you have to send the entire device back when the new device arrives, rather than the more economical method of replacing the cracked bezel. I just have to decide if its worth getting a new one. I’ve looked at the alternatives, the Kindle and the Sony and for me, the nook worked the best for my needs, but man, I hate the idea of shelling out $280 for something that’s gonna be busted and cruddy looking after ten books. What will it look like after 50? I read 119 books last year. I’m not buying a new e-reader every year because the old one has crumbled to plastic pieces around me.