Pain in the Neck

September 15, 2004

Literally. I must have slept in an awkward position because I woke up this morning and couldn’t turn my head left or right more than a few inches without a sharp stabbing feeling in the base of my neck. This has happened once before and went away in a day, so I’m not terribly worried.

That said, not being able to turn your head totally blows. I have virtually no peripheral vision, for one thing. For another, my head is in a semi-permanent tilt, like an inquisitive dog. The oddest thing is trying to go different directions. I first have to move my head a little bit to point me in the right direction, then I twist at my waist so my torso matches up and finally bring my hips around and start walking the right way. If I do it slowly enough, I look like Robocop. Linus told me I was like Michael Keaton’s Batman, turning my entire body just to face someone since my neck couldn’t twist. I prefer my nerd reference to his, but nerd lays in the eye of the beholder.

So anyway, I get through my day of work, walking like Robocop and talking to people like a retarded beast and head home. I’m about three feet outside my office when a woman points at me and yells “OH MY GOD, LOOK AT ALL THOSE BEES!” What? What the hell is she talking about? Then, I start seeing them. They appear in front of me as giant motion blurs, and my field of vision got progressively darker and darker. Of course, I couldn’t see them before, since they were everywhere except right in front of my face. I did what any rational person would… I ran, straight forward with the entire world in my blind spot. They say you’re supposed to run into the lake, but it doesn’t help when I’m in the middle of a fucking desert, does it? Luckily, these were lazy bees, weakened by the sloppy wet heat, and I outpaced them by the end of the block.

I am now giving myself therapy for my neck (but no beestings!) By the way, icy hot is not that icy, but it is MOTHERFUCKING HOT. I feel like someone cut open wounds in my neck and started stuffing habaneros in it. I remember in college we slathered icy hot in my roommates underwear and thought it was the funniest thing. What was I thinking? I’m lucky I wasn’t brought in for violating the Geneva Convention on that particular stunt. Dude, if you’re out there, I’m sorry. It was Rob’s idea. Really.

Stabby neck pain, bees and icy hot. I think a plague of frogs is next.

Posted in Endless Whining