Thoughts on Poison Ivy

I'm not sure where it came from. I am not one to frolic through the woods hunting for mushrooms and wild game such as the infamous Bear Grylls. I do not celebrate nature in the way that ferries and nymphs do, seen in fantastical literature. This is just not me. I am the type who plays with my child, reads, and publishes stupid posts online. So, how this has happened, I do not know. And I always believed in the depths of my soul that I embodied some sort of super-human powers due to my twenty-five year immunity to the stuff. Twenty-five years, people. And here I am today, professing the evils of this three-leaved jezebel. I remember elementary school. All my friends had come into contact with the plant at some point in their youths. Apparently, I was just lucky. Because today, with much grief, I must announce that I am infected.

I remember my first scratch. Sounds crazy, but it's true. One night last week sometime. I took my right hand to my left arm and scratched. I didn't think anything of it. Just an itch. But something crazy happened. I noticed this hickey-esque bruising just beneath my skin's surface. Initially, I just thought I had scratched a bit too hard.

No.

In fact, this blistering, acid faced protuberance appeared. That's when I knew. I have contracted poison ivy. And I'm trapped. There's this insanity in my skin, I just don't want to stop itching. However, being a novice at this infection, I've learned that if you scratch "too much" or "too hard", one just bleeds everywhere. And now, what started at the inside of my left arm, has since traveled to both ankles and I'm beginning to feel it where? Yes, you guessed it. My face. Holy hell, Batman!

So, before I dip myself in acid to rid myself of the itch, I begin a quest. A quest on destroying this three-leaved evil. Oh, and believe me, I've found some very interesting theories on the destruction of these blisters. Some suggest using a hair dryer and "blow" the itch away. Others say take tons of Vitamin C, or use rubbing alcohol. My theory? Moonshine until I pass out and can't remember that I ever itched at all.

Thoughts on Mascots and Whores

Because I spend countless hours in thought, it should be a duty that I write more often. After all, it is a goal dear to my heart that I at least make a mild career as an author of some capacity. (Although I highly doubt poetry will ever be an option.) My recent thoughts are seemingly disconnected aside from the fact that both subjects are running through my head . . .

I begin with mascots.

Recently, upon watching Saturday college football, a friend asked me what a 'Hoosier' is. I began to regale stories of Hoosierdom from my fourth grade text book. Stories of which, are unimportant to this current rant. I began thinking. Okay, so, 'Hoosier' is a nice term for people from Indiana, sure . . . it's tradition. But, in all reality, how scary of a mascot is a Hoosier? No offense to North Carolina natives, but it's like the Tar Heels. I find neither a Hoosier or a Tar Heel intimidating. Ooooooohhh, you've got tar on your heels, how frightening! Yes, these state pet names are lovely, but somewhat goofy when naming teams. And there are countless goofy mascots. Campbell Camels . . . um, okay. At Catawba College, we once played a team called Presbyterian. Their mascot? The mighty "Blue Hose". (Long blue socks, not panty hose) At IU East, we once played the Concordia Seminary "Preachers". Wow. Also, I've heard of teams with "Monarchs" as their mascots. Draw your own conclusions here.

However, I think Florida has got it right. Florida GATORS. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm terrified of gators. They eat you. Why not have scary, super intimidating mascots? A shark is a good mascot, but why not be more specific? Why not the great whites? But the scariest mascot of all? Ohio State. Buckeyes. Ha, very funny, you say. But seriously, think about it. Yes, a buckeye is a traditional Hoosier-esque mascot. However, if you were ever to eat a buckeye . . . yes, you've just poisoned yourself. Deadly. One of those silent killers. Also, I think anthrax might be an intimidating mascot . . .

*****

Regarding my thoughts on the other topic -- Now, I don't know about my Northeastern High School buddies, but I find it incredibly interesting, this concept of "whoredom". The technical term for whore is someone who is paid to sleep around. Correct? Correct. I've studied enough to know this is true, and don't bother telling me I'm wrong. I'm not. However, the current loose term for a whore, I have since learned from someone near and dear is this: a person who sleeps around, having no self-worth. Also, I find it an easy term to use for we women who seem to threaten us in some fashion. Right, ladies? Anyway, I can "dig" the slang usage of the term. I guess. I do not remember the term being thrown around so heavily back home (correct me if I'm wrong, fellow Hoosiers). And perhaps that's because half of the Fountain City population is Amish. I do not know. Whatever the reason, I hear the term a great deal in the Rowan County/Davidson County area. Why is this? I do not know. It does not matter.

My argument is this: why does everyone assume ONLY women are whores? Never have I heard, "well, that so-and-so is a big whore. He sleeps with at least three women a night," or "that Jimmy guy has slept with so many women, he's got s*it, Ajax couldn't wash off!" No, never, and I mean NEVER have I heard a man dubbed "whore". It has come to my attention that any man with the capabilities to enjoy the pleasures of women, is in fact called a "pimp".

Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass if you consider yourself a pimp. If you're willing to give it to the willing, you're a whore. Man, woman, goat, or dandelion. It makes my skin crawl when I run into a person who is so quick to give out judgment to someone they believe to be a "whore". Don't be so quick to hand out names to people. It feels a lot like guilt, to me, oh guilty one.

Also, a recent acquaintance who will never be a friend of mine, was discussing this very topic with someone and mentioned that any woman who was out doing "whorish" things, should be beaten. Okay, buddy, you keep that in the back of your head when you're out "pimping".