As I sat alone in the vet's waiting room today, the central air clicked on.
If I were James Bond, I thought, steel shutters would shoot down over the doors , creating an airtight seal. I would see a gas cloud pouring in through the air vent, would start feeling woozy and pass out.
None of that happened. I am not James Bond. James Bond does not awake from a nap on his parents' porch with a need to get to the bathroom, knock off his glasses and slide off the glider while stretching, get help into his chair and make it all the way to the bathroom but have issues there.
Also, I don't know any women named Pussy.
But, I then thought, life would be much more exciting with an arch-nemesis. And it conveniently turns out that I have one. No, I don't mean my little niece, although she is totally stealing all the attention with her tonsillectomy. (She also hasn't pooped in a week because of it so I am not so jealous.)
I am talking about Friedreich's ataxia, and heck, if we can anthropomorphize God, I can do it with a disease.
The problem is I need a good, villainous name.
I first considered “L'ataxie de Friedreich” from the French or the Italian “Atassia di Friedreich” I wasn't in love with either as an acronym LADF or ADF. I went all through the languages in Google's translation tools and found nothing with the bite of Bond's SPECTRE – the Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion -- although I do dig the Turkish translation for its hard consonants: “Friedreich's kasların koordinasyon bozukluğu,” the FKKB.
I could also consider FFA for fucking Friedreich's ataxia or make Dr. Nikolaus Friedreich the bad guy in a blame-the-messenger deal.
If I could consider my FA my arch-nemesis, then when a few minutes ago my legs gave out on me in front of the toilet and my forehead slammed into the raised toilet seat, I could shake my fist at the villainous wretch XXX. Instead, I had to reassure my little sister and Mom I was OK and then want to cry, scream and hit something real hard.
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July
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- Who cares about that nerd, let's hear more about Mom
- A little lie wouldn't kill me, would it?
- Where is Elektra when I need her?
- A swimming sensation
- Sweet dreams aren't made of doggie diarrhea
- Trott, Matt Trott
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- Is distinctive good?
- I could be God
- New swimming challenge
- God does answer prayers*
- The Little Engine That Could didn't have FA
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2 comments:
And as that mum - you also want to scream, cry and shout FFA!!
oh yes
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