Let’s Talk About Rat Lungworm Disease!

There’s apparently an outbreak of something called rat lungworm disease going on in Hawaii, with 13 cases having already been confirmed so far this year and all of them being linked to either the Big Island (a.k.a., Hawaii, even though that’s also the name of the state) or Maui. And in case you’re Jeff Sessions, here’s a map of which islands those are:

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Thirteen cases doesn’t sound like much, but it’s actually pretty bad when you consider the fact that there were only 11 cases reported in all of 2016, and here we are at 13 and it’s only May 1st. Anyway, rat lungworm disease is caused by gross parasitic nematodes that live in infected rats’ lungs. The nematodes mature and then start their own gross families by laying eggs. The eggs hatch and the larva (ugh) leave home by being shat out of the rat, and then they just hang out all homeless until a hungry slug or snail comes along and decides this steaming pile of rat sh*t would make a great meal. Once eaten by the snail or slug, the larva (ugh) are no longer homeless and continue to grow inside their new home until a hungry rat comes along and decides the nasty snail or slug they live in would make a great meal. This is the ideal situation because rats are the ideal host for these nasty-ass, rat-lungworm-disease-causing, parasitic nematodes, and once ingested into the rat, the larva (ugh) can break out, fully mature, start gross families of their own, and the cycle continues. It’s the circle of life, and it moves us all!

A much less ideal situation is for the larva (ugh) to end up inside something other than a rat–e.g., a human. The good news–if you can call it that–is that the nematodes can’t thrive inside our bodies and will usually die off within a year, BUT not before they totally mess things up by getting all up in the host human’s brain, spinal cord, and eyes, and sometimes even going so far as to cause paralysis, blindness, or death. F*CK YOU, NEMATODES.

But how do these parasitic nematodes end up in humans anyway? Interestingly, it seems that only stage 3 larva (ugh) can infect us, and those are found in the snails and slugs that ate some infected rat sh*t. It appears that the 13 people who have rat lungworm disease either unknowingly ingested infected slugs or snails that were hiding on poorly-washed vegetables or fruits (they’re apparently very tiny), or had eaten something that had been contaminated by snail or slug slime.

The most messed up story I’ve read about people contracting rat lungworm disease was an article I came across a week and a half ago, and it literally made me gasp because it was shockingly f*cked up–so much so that I have to share it with you.

Okay, so…

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Note: I guess this kava drink is made from the root of the kava plant, and will supposedly make the drinker feel relaxed without the buzzed feeling you’d experience with alcohol. Wikipedia says the beverage has “sedative, anesthetic, euphoriant, and entheogenic properties,” but I don’t know, it just sounds like some stupid hippie thing. But I digress…

So a group of people were making kava and…
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The following day…

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Get down wit yo’ relaxed self!

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Geezus…can you imagine being one of those 4 people staring at this dead slug and realizing that you just drank cup fulls of the liquid it drowned it? And then to add insult to injury, you’re on one of the two islands that is confirmed to have rat lungworm disease? I’d probably set that entire bowl on fire and then drink gasoline and snort bleach in a desperate attempt to kill those larva (ugh) that are now going to f*cking town on my brain, spinal cord, and eyes.

UGHHH.

Work Has Been Kicking My Ass!

OH MY F*CKING GAWD, work has been kicking my f*cking ass for the past three months with a steel-toed boot encrusted with broken glass covered in Krokodil. Yes, Krokodil: The drug that makes the injection site look a melted Lord of the Rings orc covered in atomic diarrhea.

I don’t really know what happened, but one day my boss just started giving me a sh*t-ton of cases—and when I say sh*t-ton, I mean he, like, Oprah’d them at me: “You get a case! And you get a case! And you get a case!” except I was only one in the audience.

My initial reaction was, “Okay, fine. It’s not the first I’ve had to work on several cases all at once I can handle it.” But then I saw that almost all of them had some form of legal hearing or conference or whatever scheduled for October, November, or December…

Oh, and the person who was just put in charge of handling representation? Me. *flaccid-dick trumpet sound*

I know it probably sounds stupid of me to be freaking out about having to do hearings and stuff considering that lawyers and trials are usually packaged together, but here’s the thing: I specialize in legal writing and research, and was hired specifically to do that type of work. And the reason why I chose to go into that area was because (1) I love writing, and (2) I wanted to avoid having to represent clients! Hmm…Yeah…the irony isn’t lost on me. Oh hey, is that a sing-along coming my way? Awesome! Sing it with me! It’s like raaaain, on your wedding day. It’s choosing to work as a legal writer and researcher in order avoid litigating cases, only to find yourself litigating cases anyway.

Surprise, surprise, however, my aversion to doing litigation doesn’t have anything to do with a desire to avoid situations where I would be required to think on my feet…at least, not anymore. I mean, it was the initial reason why I was so afraid of doing that type of work, and my infamous terribleness at thinking on my feet when it matters most really showed when I argued my first case back in August and got my ass handed to me on a plate made of ass. It was really embarrassing and painful, and I vowed to find a way to overcome my brain fartiness so that it never happened again. The next time anyone did any ass-handing, it was going to be ME.

So after tirelessly searching for solutions, I finally found my key to becoming a maître d’ of ass-handery, and it’s to literally write a script for myself to read off of when my brain inevitably decides it wants to turn into turds and whey. And by “literally” I mean “literally,” not “I really mean ‘figuratively’ but oh well.”

ME
(COOLLY)
ISN’T IT TRUE, MR. DAVINSHIREBROOKSBY, THAT YOU WERE IN THE LIBRARY AT A QUARTER PAST MIDNIGHT WITH THE CANDLESTICK AND—

OPPOSING COUNSEL
(ASSEDLY)
OBJECTION!

ME
(HAMMY ANNOYANCE)
WHAT NERVE, KNAVE!

Great, right? Problem solved! Time to start Oprah-ing me some wins! WRONG! SO WRONG! Because in a down-the-rabbit-hole, messed up twist of fate, my problem has gone from being unable to quickly think on my feet to thinking too quickly. Yes, THINKING. TOO. QUICKLY. And why? Because these cases have exposed me to some of the most f*cked up, shady-ass, douche baggery that I’ve ever seen. I’m talking about super egregious sh*t like flat out producing Photoshopped evidence and having liars as witnesses—argh! Just thinking about it makes my blood boil!

Seriously, I don’t know if these guys do this because I’m new to the game, but you know what? One thing I’m not new at is getting really, really pissed off—and when I’m really, really pissed off, my brain immediately goes into overdrive and turns into a volcano of vitriolic acid! Oh yeah! It’s all over for you asshats now because in the three seconds it took you to crap out yet another trivial, nonsensical objection at me to throw me off, I went from zero to “CHOO CHOO! The bullet train of verbal pain is coming right for your ass!” and there ain’t no coming back! Get ready for the judicial beating of your li—

WAIT A MINUTE! I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKIN’ HEARING! OH NOOOOO! NOOOO!

Of course the one time I’m finally given the ability to come up with sharp and witty awesomely awesome asshat-obliterating retorts of awesomeness is when I’m in a forum where dishing out awesomely awesome asshat-obliterating retorts of awesomeness would result sanctions and getting fired!

So instead of struggling for something to say, I’ve now found myself struggling to keep myself from saying anything! And all roads lead to one outcome: me looking like a giant retard.

DOUCHE-BAGGERY EXAMPLE 1: 

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Yes, I named the witness Mr. Lantern because it made sense when I first started drawing these pictures. That was back in OctoberOCTOBER!!!

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WHAT I WANT TO DO:

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WHAT I’M STUCK DOING INSTEAD:

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“With all due respect” is the professional way of saying, “Go f*ck yourself!”

DOUCHE-BAGGERY EXAMPLE 2:

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WHAT I WANT TO DO:

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WHAT I’M STUCK DOING INSTEAD:

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F*ck you, reality, and your ass-biting ways! 

  

How to Get Your Overnight-Yoga-Enthusiast Friends to Stop Pushing Yoga onto You

Ah, the overnight-yoga-enthusiast.

He only started taking classes two weeks ago because the Groupon he bought on impulse was about to expire, and wasn’t planning on doing more than the 10 sessions he purchased until he one day got a bunch of “Likes” on Facebook for the status update he posted about being late to yoga class because of crappy traffic. After that, he was suddenly all up on yoga’s ass and trying to get everyone else up on it too by posting links to articles touting yoga’s benefits and asking all of his friends to try it out.

You decline because it’s not your thing, but Overnight-Yoga-Enthusiast Friend keeps pushing you into taking a class with him because he believes you’ll find it as life changing and amazing as he did, even though you’ve already told him a thousand times by then, “No, I won’t find yoga life changing or amazing, so stop trying to pressure me into taking the gateway drug to veganism!”? (Yes, yoga enthusiasm –> veganism. Seriously, a meat-eating yoga enthusiast in this era of hipsters and douche bags? You’d have a better chance of finding a village of unicorn-and-alpaca-raising cthulhus in the middle of the Sahara Desert.)

I don’t have any overnight-yoga-enthusiast friends, thankfully…or maybe I do, but they know me well enough to know that they’d be wasting their energy trying to convert me. In any event, if I ever do find myself being the target of unwanted yoga invitations from a friend who thinks “no” really means “I’ll eventually say ‘yes’ so please keep asking me to go to class with you over and over again,” I’ve devised a way to make the invites stop once and for all.

Step 1: Accept the invitation

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Step 2: While everyone else is following along with the yoga instructor…

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…Lose your sh*t and start breaking out Dhalsim’s moves from Street Fighter!

Yoga Fire!

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Yoga Flame!

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And my favorite: Yoga Teleport!

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Disappear!

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Time-Space Travel!

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Reappear…and WIN!

Mwahahahahahaha!

Note: Doing this may result in security being called in to remove you from the premises and/or you’ll lose Overnight-Yoga-Enthusiast Friend as a friend…but who gives a sh*t? That still means you won’t have to worry about being invited to classes ever again, so the WIN stands.