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Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Totally Buggin'

As those of you near and dear to me know, and as those of you who in the last two months have met me briefly, walked past me on the street, or been my checkout girl at Duane Reade know, I've been dealing with issues of bedbugs in my apartment (along with most of New York). It has gotten better, little thanks to my phantom landlord, but it's an ongoing work in progress. I know that by now you must be sick to death of hearing me talk about this, and so I beg that you indulge me one final rant on the subject, and then you'll never hear me mention it again, as I will be dead from either having been eaten alive or asphyxiating from the amount of chemicals the exterminator has pumped into my building. Then you can all look back and say..."I could have done more." I myself am exhausted from saying, thinking, living the word BEDBUGS, and so I've decided to start referring to them by a different name. Something that evokes a more pleasant impression than what these things actually are, like "Cupcakes", or "Glitter", or "AIDS", or "Poverty", or "Famine". Just anything more pleasant.

Some people are not as vocal about their "cupcakes". They are for whatever reason ashamed of them, and try relentlessly to keep the problem hidden from the world. Not me. I chose to go public the moment they struck. I even sent out an official press release. The reason for this being that whenever any such tragedy happens to me, I tell anyone who will listen, hoping to gain a few helpful remedies, or at the very least, a little compassion and comforting. I'm happy to report that in this case, I've received none of the above. All anyone has to offer are horror stories and gruesome details of how disgusting bed..."cupcakes" are, and how unfortunate I am to be plagued by them. A few people have pulled out diagrams to illustrate the hideous anatomy of the creature, a few have simply run screaming from the room upon mention of the word, and many have hastily suggested that I immediately move to a new apartment, although they rarely offer to provide funding for such a great idea.

Folks seem to get a kick out of telling the horror stories, and all but hold a flashlight to their chins for dramatic effect. By now, I've heard just about everything. I've heard how when the bugs bite, they do so three times, consecutively. This is their version of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Don't tell me that.) I've heard that no matter what I do, I will never get rid of them, even if I move out of state, leaving all my furniture behind and no forwarding address. (Thanks.) I've even heard the one about how they wait for you to fall asleep and make love to you in the night, and when you wake the next morning, you give birth to their bedbug offspring, and are forced to raise them and put them through college. (This one strikes me as a bit far-fetched, but I've spent a fortune on birth control and home pregnancy tests, just the same.) I am sick of hearing this nonsense, and I implore anyone listening: In this matter and all others that concern me, if you're not going to say what I want to hear, do not speak.

Why, oh why could I not have been blessed with something cute, like roaches or rats or chlamydia? These bastards are the absolute worst. They're sneaky as hell, and are apparently able to hide out without eating at all for up to a year before making their attack. I mean, who does that?? (Personally, if my food isn't ready within 20 minutes I go to another restaurant.) Roaches are gross too, but at least they're nice enough to just do a quick run-through, freak you out, and leave you alone for the most part. These assholes, on the other hand, set up permanent residence in your clothes and wigs, and actually have the nerve to defecate on everything you own. No shit. And it's only gotten worse for me. Now they've begun to leave their little cigarette butts and mini Corona bottles all over my apartment. They constantly leave the toilet seat up, and they insist on playing their music loudly at all hours of the night. (It's not even good stuff. Obscure 80's New Age crap.) And the damn things are so paper-thin that to merely step on them or swat them will not kill them. They laugh at that. Your only chance of defeating them is with some sort of firearm or by performing an exorcism.

You can't walk down a street in my neighborhood these days without seeing at least 6 discarded mattresses, and I know it's happening all over the city as well. It has become alarmingly epidemic. We are in a CODE RED state of emergency here, yet no one seems to know how the hell to get rid of these terrorists. And so I ask that someone please tell me why we are wasting valuable time and money trying to cure cancer and save Africa's youth, when New York, and in particular my apartment, are being ravaged by bedbugs! Cupcakes, rather.

I'm gonna go call Oprah. I suggest you do the same.

3 comments:

upandadam said...

I, by the grace of Oprah, was able to get rid of my little problem but I can feel your pain, all three bites. I have had my fill of "cupcakes" and am a firm supporter of any campaign to bring back DDT. If this banned chemical gives me three balls from eatin' some mutated apples, so be it. Death to cupcakes.

Mom E. said...

Dear Randy,

About that trip to New York to visit you....

Er, something has, uh, come up, like, and I sorta won't be coming up anytime soon, but it's not for any reason or anything, but, like, have a nice life.

Mom

copeynyc said...

dammit, now I'm jonesin' for a cupcake! (the original definition)