Constipated Gerbil

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

A recent e-mail from Denny put me in mind of this unfortunate incident from my childhood. It's a bloody long time ago so this is how my tiddly-peep mind remembers it:

Steve O'Shea's gerbil needed a home during their family holiday and so eldest brother, whose chum the gerbil-fancier was, offered to put up the gerbil for the duration.

All was well and the little chap was esconced in a quiet corner of our front room as, being budgie-types, we were aware of the sensitive nature of cowering beasties. His corner was arranged and venerated as a shrine akin to those found in Hindu households and offerings of food and water were proffered with due deference. The little fellow, for his name escapes me, showed no visible signs of distress, disconcertingly he showed little visible signs of anything. Indeed the furry fellow was not manifest for hours, then days.

We knew the cuddly critter was there as he appeared to have neglected his personal hygiene somewhat and certainly had been remiss in the underarm deodorant area. Children, it has been said, should be seen and not heard, however we had no cognizance of a similar maxim alluding to the desirability of gerbils being perceived by their aroma as against any visual manifestation.

It was with some trepidation that the family reunited the olfactory offence with it's habitual custodians. Trepidation with good cause as we were later informed the little tyke had curled up his reputedly pink tootsies.

The explanation given simple. The munchkins sensitivities had become offended in some way. Perhaps he was excessively shy verging upon social phobic. In any case, the little chap had suffered from a common male problem, namely 'stage fright' although in his case this was not manifest at public urinals; rather his sensibilities prevented him from doing 'no. 2s' in an unfamiliar environment. Perhaps his gerbil grey matter reasoned that these disruptions had not lasted more than a couple of days before and so he could clench his rodent rectum until settled back in his customary sanitary sanctum. Alas. The constipated critter croaked. A serious stoppage stopped him.

A fecal fate for our furry friend.

2005 snogs

posted by Andy 08:38

ECG

Friday, September 16, 2005

Off for an Electro Cardiogram... dunno how they're going to do that as I don't have a cardigan.

I think it's all to do with the high dose of Venlafaxine I've been on for over a year; as it's still classed as a new-ish, drug blood and heart tests are recommended periodically. Knowing my ox-like constitution all will be hunky spunky.

The Bipolar II theory seems to hold water as I scour the www. Not that I was ignorant of it's existence, having worked in the business for a decade or more but the subtleties of this particular labeling system hadn't been scrutinised til now. Maybe I'll post a bullet-point life history one day to bore the excrement out of you. Until then, check out this Bipolar self test pdf. I tick all the boxes with a query on only one. I'm sure there's more than this going on in my head but then psychiatry does tend to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to fit people into boxes. Not to mention the labeling paradox... have to discuss that one day.

BTW anyone fancy two legitimate Magic Numbers tickets for Wolverhampton, 8th October? I have no real use or inclination to use them in my newly rediscovered singledom. Haven't a clue how to use E-Bay.

2005 snogs

posted by Andy 08:26

The X-Factor

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Bloody hell! I was going out with a lesbian! (Don't fret, just a poor pun)

posted by Andy 12:18

Rub your balls for England

Sunday, September 11, 2005

If the nation take their balls in hand and rub them in unison at 12noon BST, England may retain the Ashes. So say Yuri Gellar.
On a more serious note. This national obsession with cricket is media-driven. It does not exist. Any more than the rugby phenomenon existed. e.g. anyone heard much on mainstream media about the European floods? Anyone heard much on mainstream media about the American floods?
Like it or not we are manipulated by our media (media being the medium, so to speak, not sure who is manipulating the media) like every other 'developed' country. I'm not hypothesising a conspiracy theory as such, just postulating that value judgements regarding tragedy and charity are, to a great extent, under the subjection, of the muzac of mass media.
One can see how control of media is a primary objective of a would-be totalitarian regime.

2005 snogs

posted by Andy 09:53

Bipolar II

Friday, September 09, 2005

That seems to be the direction my treatment is going (diagnosis takes much longer). Anyhow, Carbamazepine is in my system and Ł26.50 left my pocket to pay for meds on Monday. I'm a big, fat, old, single looney. Nothing I can do about the single bit but would welcome any thoughts as to whether those the engagement was announced to and were invited to the 'party' should be informed of the change in circumstances. I tend to feel that this duty should fall to my ex whose decision it was and who still has the presents and cash (as far as I know), but maybe I'm wrong.
Feel slightly less bad since starting the Carbamazepine. Certainly less desperate/suicidal. Trying to file the relationship at the back but there are still way too many triggers.
Still blogging anyhow!

2005 snogs

posted by Andy 15:05

Hermitude

Thursday, September 01, 2005

I really ought to get out more, apparently. Although I ought not to use words such as 'ought' and 'should' as it's frowned upon in the world of unhelpful thinking I was introduced to 12 months ago. You may recall I attended some group 'therapy' for want of a better word, self referral, accessible within weeks and provided by the voluntary sector as opposed to GP referral, wait months to see staff grade psych, possibly get a referral, wait months for 'assessment', get put on waiting list if you are lucky as provided by NHS/social services.
Reminds me of last year's holiday in Bulgaria with Dani. Within hours of landing in Sofia self, Dani her sister Katia, husband Rossi and their little lad Slavi stopped off for a drink at the cafe Perfect in Pazardzhik. Little Slavi, in his excitement ran straight through a plate glass door and so we sped off at break-neck speed (Katia and Rossi are both Captains in the police force) to the hospital where the dilapidated and primitive conditions seemed anathema to the facilities in the UK, however little Slavi's head and body wounds were cleaned, stitched and dressed promptly enabling us to carry on with our journey in little more than an hour. Katia and Rossi wouldn't believe that the wonderful 'envy of the world' NHS with it's high standards would have triaged Slavi as non-urgent and a wait of 3-6 hours would not have been unexceptional.
Me? I've not really been out of the house since my birthday, last Friday. Seeing Dr Patel (staff grade Psych) tomorrow lunchtime. Walking on eggshells with the other half so as not to jeopardise any residual relationship. Can't visualise a future as all I can see are blind alleys.
"Ho-hum", said Pooh.

2005 snogs

posted by Andy 07:52