Confessions of a Germaphobe

 

germs-1

I slide in on the heels of a middle-aged woman, so the door swings open and I never touch it.

I reach for the automatic paper towel dispenser, pull off a piece and head to the bathroom stall.   Naturally, my hand does not want to touch any part of the handle of the stall while opening it or closing it.   So I use the paper towel as a barrier between the door and my hand as I open the bathroom stall handle.

Next I begin prepping for the “hover”.  Women develop great muscle tone in their legs by hovering over the toilet seat.   Because I have germaphobia, I can’t use the outer layer of toilet paper provided,  because God knows what might linger on that puppy.  Blowback, splatter, or spray.  Things that can’t be seen with the naked eye.   What if the person before me had explosive diarrhea?  dear God….microscopic fecal matter or worse blood borne pathogens lingering.  My thoughts race a thousand miles an hour and my heart beats a thousand beats per second.   I want OUT of this horrid public bathroom that smells like a raw sewage backup with febreeze misting in through the air.

I have to unravel several sheets of said toilet paper round and round many times and then discard that before I can even think of it, as “safe” to use.  Then I’m clear to for take off, ready to void.

Oh and that’s the other thing, pooping? Ummm no. I would rather prairie dog it til’ I get home before I’d use a public rest room.  That’s pretty much a cardinal rule of “no can do” with my OCD/ germaphobia variant.

Once I’m through, and am all buttoned up, I grab another piece of toilet paper to grab the door handle with and let myself out of the stall.  Before I exit , I throw that into the toilet and turn around quick-like and kick the flusher handle down with the bottom of my shoe.

I return back to the automatic paper towel dispenser to get a piece, with which to turn on the water faucet at the sink and also use it to pull down the soap dispenser.  I then wash my hands.   I return back to the paper towel dispenser to get more paper so I that I can dry my hands and grab one extra square to let myself out of the bathroom.

It is a well-choreographed dance like movement in an operating theatre.   A waltz I know well after being diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) in my late teens.  I have it down to a science now and can do it so quickly I do not think about the routine.  I get in, and get out in nearly the same amount of time that the next person does.

Once back in college, I felt a sense of shame about having this lengthy public bathroom regimen, knowing (at least intellectually) it was irrationally based behavior.   Come on, if someone was watching, it looks bat-shit crazy.

Then one day I observed one of my professors who held a PhD, using the same bathroom, who had just had a bowel movement and left without washing her hands.

I no longer felt ashamed after she walked out.   I believe I may have washed my hands an extra time, just because.

My libido must be hiding behind the couch with Jesus

Sigh.

It’s official.

I’ve lost my sex drive and my faith in one fell swoop.

I think it’s the fucking Prozac.

or maybe the depression….

hell, maybe both.

I get down on my knees in the morning and say a prayer but there’s a disconnect.

In yesteryear I always I felt a strong connection with God in my life.  It was an awesome feeling.  I never felt alone,

no matter what kind of monkeyshit life was throwing at me.

This is the worst.   Such a painful horrible void.  I miss that relationship so much.  This, This is hell.

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Life’s pleasures are slowly being whittled away one by one.

These days, I am not supposed to drink alcohol, binge eat/starve and to top it off I have absolutely no libido.

It’s like some thief in the night stole it from me.  The girl who used to having sex at least 5 times a day,

Doesn’t even care if she ever has it again?

****

Sigh.  Me thinks it’s because I’m taking the Prozac.  Manufacturers insert reads:   “It is thought that the action of this medication is….”

So the powers that be, don’t even fucking KNOW what this shit does to my neural network? they are simply extrapolating from looking at

a bunch of rats?

‘Cause gosh rats and humans are ever so similar….

****

Hmmmm….. well that rat is chewing off it’s own tail….so people might get suicidal on this drug.

That rat is agressively biting the fuck out of the other rat…….homocial.

This one is bouncing off the cage…….irritability

This one doesn’t sleep…….insomnia

And when the rats stop screwing each other?

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Guess that’s me.

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I’m getting off the shit.

Blogging: The New Prostitution

Sexy-Blogger_3887-l

There once was a girl from Nantucket

Who wrote her thoughts on a blog and said fuck it.

She let it all rip

and said with a quip,

“If words were a cock I would suck it.”

-Lexiconlover-

We’re all selling something aren’t we….

Some people whine.

Some bitch and rant.

Some write poetry.

Some bloggers stick to philanthropy, trying to “help” others out with their self-actualized knowledge they’ve gained on their way up Maslow’s pinnacle.

Some folks are so heady that they don’t want you to really understand what the fuck they are spinning.

Still others post some one line, inane banter with a shock value photo attached to grab your attention.

Other’s  write of trying to get by day-to-day in a seemingly endless quagmire of bullshit and recovery from a lifelong battle of living in their own personal hell.

Then there are the angels among us.  Those wonderful people I call liquid Prozac.  They are so authentic and just raw, unfiltered, unpretentious folks who lay it out and you can’t help but laugh.

*****

To all my fellow bloggers out there bloglandia,  I raise my glass.

I could have dated Charles Manson

I was watching an old interview with Manson in prison where he was singing.  It was more rare footage.  I have to say.  He is charismatic, enigmatic, energetic, articulate, intelligent, creative, artistic.    He possesses just about every quality that captivates me.    There is this way he drew me in even watching him on the TV screen.  Hell, I was enjoying watching him how fucked up is that?  He is supposed to be a villain.  A devil.  Evil incarnate….

I can see how a girl of 19 could have been easy prey for him.   Not even  5 minutes into the interview I was so engaged and taken by his charm I had almost forgotten that he was responsible for the murderous rampage of the Sharon Tate and her unborn baby.   Which made me shudder.

But then I ponder….. just as sociopaths find their prey in a crowd, seeking out the weak ones.   Maybe the inverse is true.   Maybe prey seemingly seek out their predators……albeit unconsciously.

It would explain so much of why I’ve ended up with the men I’ve been with in my lifetime.

Nothing happens by chance, especially not when it happens repeatedly.  That is why it is called a pattern of behavior.  It is no coincidence.

My new addiction

My name is Lexi and I am powerless over watching “An American Horror Story”

It’s true.

Stellar Cast.

Jessica Fucking Lange.

Can we say brilliant fucking screenwriters?

Gifted actors/actresses.

What character development/plot (no pun intended)

And it encompasses all the darkness that seduces us all, along with the struggle for good to conquer that evil:

BDSM, homicide, deceit, manipulation, the interplay between good and evil (even within one character), sex, rape, drugs, necrophilia, rubber suit, mass murder, self-mutilation, suicide, paranormal, medium, ghosts.

This show has it all.

This show had me hooked from the pilot.    I don’t know what I am going to do if they cancel it……….*shivers*

Mastercard moment – Colonscopy “prep”

1 Roll of toilet paper ………………………………………………….. $  1.29

1 Pack Lime Jello cups ……………………………………………..   $ 2.59

2 Packages Chix broth ……………………………………………….. $ 5. 00

1 Rx for G0-lytely bowel prep after insurance copay………………. $2.50

Look on my face after finishing the last 8 oz glass of that slimy, nasty, fake-ass-lime-flavored gallon of Nagasaki-in-a-bottle, that I had to drink every 15 minutes for almost 3 hours, to clean out my colon, so the doctor can feed some “flexible” scope the entire length of my colon tomorrow morning………..

priceless.

(There better be a gold star in this for me somewhere, because that Go-lytely did NOT go lightly)

Statistical Improbability

I was standing in line today at the Suprette.  Is that even a word anymore? Superette?  No, nowadays it’s called a convenience store.  No, actually now it’s just 7-11, Cumbies or Store 24 here in New England.  Who the hell knows what it is in the Midwest or West Coast.

And I look behind the large protective glass case that contains all the lottery tickets.  And I say to the clerk as she rings me up:

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me:   I so want to win, but I never play; I mean I never buy any tickets yanno

clerk:   me too, I think about it, see’ em all day but never buy ’em

me:    It’s always some tooth-less old man livin’ in a double-wide trailer that wins like the big two-million jackpot

clerk:   I know right LOL

me:    and he’s always like only 2 years away from death and has no relatives

clerk:   it’s so true

me:    I wonder who gets the money after that?

clerk:   how bout it

me:    what’s wrong with me,  the poor bastard, I should be happy for him, now he can buy false teeth and shit

clerk:   but he won’t though, he’ll probably just get a huge plasma TV and watch porno all day

me:    and upgrade to a triple-wide trailer

(we both laugh)

I don’t buy scratch tickets.   My first  fiancé E,  was an economics and philosophy major.  We purchased 2 shares of BRK-B  together.  (Hey, we were only in our twenties and that’s all we could afford)  He was an individual investor and forced me to read  “Investment Biker: Around the World with Jim Rogers”, study Warren Buffet.  Then E forced me up late nights teaching me about the market.  If I hadn’t been in love with him, I would have choked him to death it was so fucking dry and boring.  But E taught me the importance of being a long-term share holder.  Spending money on scratch tickets would have gotten me choked to death.   When I broke off our engagement in 98′ E offered me my share of the BRK-B, but out of animosity I declined.  I considered it blood assets, so I stood on my lofty moral principle.   I wonder if I would still make the same choice today…  Nevertheless, the stock has done so well, my decision…it just stings a bit.  LOL.