Hilarious? Odd? Nah, just more of the same.

Hey, CNN! Why don't you just blow it out your ass?

(You have to wait for the end of the segment for the UC tidbit.)
*edited to add: Thanks to Cinematical for the info and video.

Apparently, no one at CNN with any pull has Ulcerative Colitis - at least, no one willing to admit it, which is perfectly understandable, guys, if you're out there. I had no desire to let any of my coworkers know about my UC, either. Unfortunately, during my last flare-up I was requesting some sick time from a supervisor, and that supervisor requested some symptomatic information so he/she could "have an idea" of what the problem was.

A) Yes, I think that's illegal. I don't think Supervisor intended that; he/she was probably just worried about possible contagion for the rest of the staff. So I could've just stated that it was a chronic, non-communicable illness and I wasn't comfortable giving out details, as they were personal. HOWEVER,

B) I had just lost somewhere around five-ten pounds in a week, I was just starting to eat again, and I was still having painful gut cramps and/or running to the bathroom every ten minutes. I wasn't in the most equivocal or evasive mood. So I stated my symptoms quite baldly. I'm not happy about the fact that she knows my health problems, but that's the situation.

Anyway, I feel you, closet-UC sufferers at CNN!

Right, now back to the point. I've become resigned to the fact that there are two ways to represent my disease in mass media. The first: the drug commercial. Some earnest, farmer's-son white guy in a plaid shirt tells the cameraman that Lialda saved his life. I change the channel.

The second: wait, there IS no second. No one on any sitcom ever has UC or Crohns or IBS; they have shit emergencies because someone took too much of a laxative or some wonky hilarious colon product (because it's for the ASS, it's funny!), a la the above video or Cheryl David at the Glen Rock Car Wash. No one sits on toilet crying because they can't eat and their body's betrayed them, or worrying about whether or not their personality, lifestyle, or fertility will be affected by their meds. They might live in a cardboard box after work hours. But none of that depressing shit stuff, networks! People want escapism.

(Just to clarify? I want escapism, too. I don't really want to watch a TV show about someone's IBD. That's my life. But I think it's pretty clear that people don't know how to deal with hearing I occasionally shit blood. They're inclined to giggle at butts, ass, poop, shit, farts - and really, so am I. Except when I'm unable to eat. Then I don't think anything's funny, because it's hard to think anything but water. broth. TV.)

(Also, It probably doesn't help that I think Dumb and Dumber is a stupid, boring movie. (Except for the Mockingbird singing. Yeah.) A. loves it. A. also loves Kingpin. We wrangle occasionally, but we can agree on things like Team America: World Police.*)

This got a lot longer and less coherent than I planned. But I hate being embarrassed about my disease. HATE IT. I hate that I'm embarrassed with some cause, since the CNN folks and a shit-ton of their viewers obviously thought it was hilarious to put this clip before a segment about a guy with UC. I hate that they are considered the NEWS and they are doing it. I want to respect news organizations, not feel like a target of their stupidity and insensitivity.

But who am I kidding? No doubt I should just grow a sense of humor and laugh about it!

HA! HA! HA! HA! HILARIOUS!

Even though there's hardly any comparison between Harry's shit attack and a UC flare up - it's possible that the amount of laxative Lloyd gave him made his ass bleed, sure!

Even funnier? The "story" about the they're reporting on is pretty damn old. Even I've posted about it. Catch up, major news media! And, hey, keep me laughing! I mean, as long as I have an optimistic outlook, I'll probably get better soon, right?**

HA! HA! HA! I better stop laughing before I really do bust a gut; remember, folks, it's fragile.






^{* FUCK YEAH. Obviously.
** Lots of people ask me when my UC will get better/go away/heal. Oh, you big silly sweeties.}

Test Drive

We've been looking for a new apartment as our current one still smells like rotten previous-tenant food. There are other problems as well, such as the squirrel infestation (Mama squirrel cleans her fur on our balcony, they hiss when they scrabble for supremacy of the ceiling crawlspace) or the mysterious drippy substance that adorns each door frame, like a sticky-syrup Passover joke.

A. talks man-to-man with the landlords, as they are usually men, and I look for things to nitpick, like the half-full bucket sitting under the crack in the bedroom ceiling, or the fact that we have to beat the porch windows, flat palmed, to make them open.

"How close are we to the busline?" I ask. Landlord Beaky stares at me.
"You're close enough to walk to ____ campus," he says. "Why - I don't get it - why would you need to ride the bus? You can just walk through the park."
"Um. At night? No." I doubt if he's ever heard of a certain memoir related to the area, but that doesn't really matter. This has just been an exercise to get my gut going with nerves.
"Do you mind if I use the toilet?"
Landlord Beaky chuckles and gestures to the bathroom.

I have tried out four toilets so far. It's easier if I actually have something to do, because largely people seem to hide their bathroom reading material from potential tenants (unless it's a Gaiman poster story, of course) and sometimes the landlord doesn't like to stray far from the door. So it's best to sound realistic. I acclimate myself. I practice reaching to the sink. I waste a lot of tp.

One guy was hesitant. "I don't know. You really have to go?"
A. shot me a look. He may know and understand, but he also knows and understands.
"I think it may be an emergency," I confessed. "Sorry."

Atop the tank, next to a purple candle, sat a rumpled paperback copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

We have an appointment to sign the lease tomorrow.

Mad Hot Bathroom, prequel. Or, diversions of the toliet bound

OH GOOD GOD.

Perhaps the sweepstakes will be geared toward IBD kiddos?

And maybe that Crapcake Hotel Heiress will donate all her money to CCFA research.