5 Fates Worse Than Death

10
Apr
2012
fateworsethandeath

I'm writing this in the middle of the night. It's actually 2:01am on Tuesday morning, if you want to get technical about it. If you know me in real life you know that if I'm awake at this hour something must be seriously wrong with the world. While the world sleeps and even the crackheads quiet, I'm sitting upright in bed, a fan blowing cold air on my face and a glass of ice by my side. Why? I have a fucking toothache.


If there is a worse fate that can befall a human being than a toothache, I don’t care to know what it is. Without a hint of exagerration, I am here to tell you that a toothache is the worst torture imaginable. Honestly. This is the second night in a row I’ve been up til all hours, trying to anesthetize myself with ice and old episodes of Gossip Girl; only to fall asleep about 15 minutes before I have to wake up. If I had more upper body strength I’d bash myself over the head with my cast iron skillet and put an end to it all.

But there is one good thing that has come from my sleep deprivation – in the midst of thinking that a toothache is without a doubt the worst thing ever; my mind wandered over to other horrible experiences that make me seriously consider flinging myself off my balcony. And whammo! A post topic!

Sidebar: About 87% of the reason I hardly post anymore is that I feel like I have nothing to write about. (The other 14% is of course laziness) So if you have any ideas, shoot em over to me.

And so without further preamble, I give you my top 5 fates worse than death. Besides toothaches.

1. Overused grammatical errors.

A long time ago I was the supervisor of a sales team. My boss and I used to have many, many meetings with the Account Managers that worked under us. And at the end of every.single.fucking.meeting she would say “If you have any questions, let Maxine or I know”.

I really liked that boss, but honestly every time she said that I wanted to punch her in her fucking craw. Because it was just so…ridiculous. I understand that for some people the whole me/I thing can be confusing. I mean, it seems perfectly simple to me, but I suppose I can see where people who struggle with it are coming from and take some common mistakes with a grain of salt. But that right there? That shit doesn’t even sound right.  I just knew she was saying it because all the grammatical subtleties of I vs. me boiled down to one simple thought in her puss brain: smart people say I, dumb people say me. Which of course is the dumbest thing of all. And it just made me want to kick over her trashcan. (Hi Dr. J!)

2. A smell I can’t stand

This past weekend my sister and went home to London to visit the parentals. It’s a trip I’ve done so many times I feel like I know the landscape of the 401 between London and Toronto as well as I know the contours of my own face. I’m sure you guys know how it is – you could blindfold me, drive me around in circles for an hour, and drop me off on the side of the road anywhere along the way and I’d instantly be able to tell you where I am. All of which is to say that the trip is old hat. But there’s one thing about it that just flattens me every time: the inevitable manure stink that assults my noseholes about 40 minutes outside of London.

I don’t know – nor do I care to imagine – what in the entire holy fuck goes on in the town we’re driving through when the attack strikes. But I do know this: for the 10 minutes or so that it takes to get through it I want to stab myself in the eye. Wait – no. In the nostril. Just on the off chance that the smell of the kinfe’s blade will momentarily outweight the stench of ripe manure. Because there are few fates worse than desperately searching your person and your surroundings for something else you can sniff deeply in order to replace the odour that is befouling your nasal linings.

3. An annoying voice that won’t stop

I should just write “Hi Mum” and keep it moving, but in the interest of getting myself to a point of fatigue so extreme that I drop asleep despite the skull-crushing agony, I’ll expound.

It is an indisputable fact of life that the more annoying a person’s voice is, the more they like to hear themselves talk. This is the logic that propelled Michel’le to embark on a singing career, Fran Drescher to become an actress, and Bobcat Goldthwait to take on stand up comedy. People who are no fun to listen to feel compelled to assault the people around them with the sound of their voices. And when I am the unwilling victim of these aural assailants, my eyes begin to frantically dart back and forth in search of an escape route. If I don’t find one, I have about 4.7 minutes before my skin starts to crawl. About 2.3 minutes more before a scream starts to bubble in my throat. And 3.9 minutes more before I stuff my fingers in my ears and bellow ‘SHUT UP!”.

4. Trying not to cave.

Ever really wanted to talk to someone but – for whatever reason – you didn’t want to be the one to cave? You do the absolute most to stop yourself from dialing their number – delete their contact info, sign out of all IM programs, block them on Twitter, sit on your hands. And of course the more you think about talking to them and the more you try to stop yourself from caving, the more alluring the prospect of speaking to them becomes. To paraphrase the great Anais Nin, this is a kind of hell to me. It’s particularly bad when it’s someone who by rights you should be able to hit up freely like your boyfriend of your bestie. But due to some deep and unforgivable bullshit that has gone down, he has to be the one to contact you first. I’d almost rather have a toothache than try to stop myself from hitting up someone I want to talk to but can’t.

 5. Being forced to refuse imminent sex

This is similar to #4, but even worse because it involves fucking.  You know the deal – there’s someone you want to fuck who is trying hard to fuck you but for some very good and compelling reason, fucking that person is the worst idea ever. No human being should ever have to endure this torture.  Having to remove the hand that is massaging your thigh up high enough to feel the heat radiating from your pussy. Removing your hand from the neckline of a blouse after it has felt the softness of the titty. Saying “no” and “stop” not in the whispery voice that really means “yes” and “more”, but with enough basso to make it clear you mean it. Having to end an epically smutty gchat because you know your fingers are about to write a cheque your pussy shouldn’t be cashing. Being forced to slink to your bed alone to finish off the job yourself. It all requires a level of strength no human being should ever possess.

And there you have it – my list of fates more painful to endure than death. What’s on your list? Speak on it in the comments.

 


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4 Comments

  • Malik says:

    The numbers are in order. O_O

  • krystllyght says:

    Hi Max! This was a funny list. When my friend had her wisdom tooth out, she talked about how bad the pain was. Said the doc told her to put cloves on it and that helped.
    On my list of fates worse than death, I’d have a bad eyebrow job or a bad hair cut. It seems like my eyebrows grow super fast but when somebody fucks them up they take forever to grow back in correctly. The next one kind of goes with number three. An annoying voice always seems to be accompanied by a volume control issue. People with bad voices always talk loud as hell.

  • Crystal says:

    Num. 4 is the story of my life right now.
    A fate possibly worse than death would certainly be the battery dying just before I finish painting my nails. Or along the same lines not finishing before or the same time he does.


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