Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Why I Pull My Hair Out

I read an article yesterday about hair pulling. Not like caveman hair pulling, but where you pull your own hair out. I do this on occasion. Not crazy bald patch style, but one here and there. Why? How the fuck do I know? I started it a couple of years ago. Big project of mine I'm researching. According to the article, it's genetic and you can possibly be predisposed to the habit, but generally people who pull out their hair are either stressed or have Tourette's or some other crappy thing.

But I think I have a very mild form of Tourette's Syndrome. Why? I think it's a defense mechanism I use to deal with the noise coming from upstairs. You see, I live underneath a developmentally disabled (yet totally friggin' hyperactive) 14 year old kid who has frustrated me to no end over the past ten years. To no end meaning: he still frustrates the shit out of me and always will. I saw him the other day and he's taller than I am--he's not a little kid anymore--no wonder he's so goddamned loud. In his defense (because clearly he can't help the way he is, and he's a perfectly nice kid) it's his parents I can't stand. They're earth parents. Their kids problems are everyone else's: "Our son has problems so he's allowed to run around the apartment for hours and jump off of the sofa." Great logic. If you live above a basement in the suburbs, yes. But you don't. Plus, how's he really going to learn to walk properly if his mother is a heavy-footed pigeon-toed Yeti? He's not. So, he doesn't.

Anyway, this is the time of the day when the kid is in full-on hyperactivity mode. From 4 ish until 9 ish. As I type this, he's in the kitchen jumping up and down. It's fun. For me. Which brings me back to the Tourette's: I'm trying to concentrate on making a meal for myself out of ketchup, nail polish, and two stale saltines, and I found myself shouting the song, "If you're retarded and you know it clap your hands!" (sung to the tune of "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands") and realized that if I were actually singing this song to a group of retarded kids, nobody would be clapping their hands. Rather, I'd be the only one clapping my hands. I've got problems too.

I've got to go pull a few nice strands of hair out now.

The end.

11 comments:

Mel said...

hehe how politically incorrect of you but I love it! hahaha!!

Nina Paley said...

Trichotillomaniacs unite!

Teri said...

can you REMIND the parents that they live above you, therefore, hear all the noise? or are they the typical RUDE people and don't care?

piglet said...

I would be pulling my nose hairs out by now.

matt said...

And you have the nerve to blame a hairy apple slice on Doodle?

anne altman said...

that family is all too familiar with their downstairs neighbor.

one day i'm going to throw some raw hamburger meat mixed with crushed glass upstairs and see what happens.

Teri said...

do it Anne, do it! I want to hear some screaming going on and the ambulance coming to take them away.

whipcreamy said...

hey two can- tell em the story about the ring and run you did...hehehe.

Bumpkyn said...

I think another nice note might work...something along the lines of SHUT THE FU^K UP! End the letter with a thank you--and all will be good.

Del-V said...

Nice work! That is the funniest thing I read all day. I once lived under a 600 pound woman who constantly flooded her toilet. It got so bad her turd-and-piss water started to come thru the ceiling of my apartment. The rental office let me move my apartment to another unit a few doors over.

I guess the point of my story is that I would rather live under a hyper-active brat than a 600 pound fat-ass shut in with IBS.

anne altman said...

i second that bowel movement.

horrible.

however, i am the victim of a flooding myself, of the sorry-our kid-left-the-sink-running-for-7 hours-and-wrecked-your-house kind.