Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Evicting My Alien Evil Twin

I have a stowaway.

I don’t know when the stealthy little "mass" bastard burrowed its way into its current warm, gurgling, whooshing hammock below decks, (With ultra-sound exams you can hear your flippin’ AORTA working! So cool!) but it’s cruising for an undignified eviction by force even if I have to dig it out myself. It’s kind of dark and cozy and moist in there under my rib cage protected by my overhanging right breast. That perky gal is affectionately known as the “party boob,” (because the kids never nursed on it) so this calculating invader played it strategically on the down low, hanging out with that complete loser The Appendix to scam free rent next to one of the funnest body parts ever. Also, the opportunistic little freak has apparently lurked there like a squatter amongst some of the hardest working most under sung digestive organs in my tummy gorging itself by proximity and growing for a long time into a strange, large hard-to-identify object, called a “mass” by Dr. Norma Popsiclehands.

Well, it got greedy, got fatter than Jabba the Hutt, and blew its cover. Fat bastard.

It’s a big ass “mass” about 4 inches long, 3 inches wide and 3 inches thick crowding its neighbors, spleen, liver, gall bladder, intestines and such, to the point they are protesting by sending large amounts of food undigested back up and overboard. Usually projectile style in the car and in front of people. This thug of a “mass,” ok it IS a tumor thank you Governor Arnold, has now messed its nest, has got to go, and I will tolerate no whining about it. I turn deaf ears to “Come on, Christmas is coming…” or “Tough love doesn’t include carving me out at Thanksgiving, you bitch!”

As soon as someone can sharpen a scalpel, drug me up and roll me unconscious, naked and drooling into an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, it’s gone!

Of course, I have pondered deeply what the hell this thing could actually be and to distract myself from some of the more mind-blowingly alarming freakishly terrifying Google fueled possibilities have determined for my personal amusement that it has to be something rare and unique and really gross to the squeamish. Although there will be more, undoubtedly, I have two ideas what it could be –

1. An alien. Only I think I’d have remembered if some crusty barnacle infested Easter egg had spewed forth a multi-jointed egg- laying orifice-invading spider thing on my face, but I don’t. Must’ve been sleeping in my car at the time and those aliens have methods by which to erase unpleasant memories, so it is a possibility that I am harboring an alien life form in my gut. I just hope we can arrange a better way for it to hatch than the movie. Dr. Surgeon Guy better step back when he takes his first slice. I remember teeth and some squealing. Eeew.

2. My Siamese twin. I always knew I had a twin and my parents just gave her away and lied about it or something. Like that cat that “went to a good home out on a farm.” But, no, this tumor could be my, here it comes, reabsorbed twin! No really! They have found “tumors” in people that included rudimentary teeth, rib bones, hair (ick!) and arms and legs! Somehow before birth in attached twins, one twin totally dominates in the womb and can completely digest the other weaker twin who then encapsulates and rides along unbeknownst to its sister host until it starts getting fat like mine, or talks, or bites or styles its hair or something. I can now blame every bad behavior I have ever had on my evil mind-controlling twin who has resided beneath my right rib cage all this time! Eeeew.

Are you squeamed yet?

That said, it now time to go drink my first dose of barium. Mmmmm barium. Banana flavored. At least it’s not up the wazoo. I get a CAT scan tomorrow, with the added bonus of a demon IV drip of “contrast” which makes me puke. Small price to pay. I wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity to dazzle the medical and scientific world with my alien, or my reabsorbed twin.


  1. Or!

    + You are the first human being to reproduce asexually. Yay! Unfortunately you didn't get it right. These things rarely go well on the first try.

    + It is the demon known as Bulimio, nested in your flesh and making you barf goodness until your soul is ripe for Satan's plucking.

    + When I was younger, I was told I had an 'extra tooth' stuck in my gums, and they went in and cut it out. You have an extra boob. If only it had surfaced, you might have been the greatest porn star that ever lived.

    + The second coming of Jesus!

    + The second coming of Hong Xiuquan, Jesus' Chinese brother!

    + Your body is trying to make flan.

  2. splendid pictures.
    Never mind the looming holidays, forget soccer for a while, get rid of that thing! Really. Particularly if it's impinging on organs that have already proved their usefulness. Good luck with the CAT scan.
    great blog!

  3. Anonymous: Asexually? Ok how did you know...Yes it's been a while. Bulimio is cruisin' for an exorcism. An extra boob! Awesome! And, yes, i could use a new career. If the second coming requires another virgin birth, I am not qualified. If the Chinese bro comes with eggroll and some yummy house lo mein, I'm in! But FLAN??? Bleh! I like my sugar white and unburnt!

  4. Mrs. Bunker: I do get an opt out on all the festive freaking out don't I? And it'll only take, what, 2 hours of anybody's time to toss this little bugger out...I'm the one who will do the time healing while they all go out holidaying...So scrub up, my bitches, there's some organs to organize!

  5. thoughts and prayers r with you.


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