My Spleen Hurts
And I'm not being metaphorical or whatever, OK? Like that expression "venting your spleen," right? Yeah, because I could be doing that, "venting my spleen," and squawking about how it's been like three fucking weeks since my column ran, because, hey, my column is supposed to run every-other-week, but then there was the Best of Baltimore episode of the paper, which my column shoulda ran in, but since it was a Special Issue it didn't run. I guess somehow that counted as one of my weeks, not as an "other" week, because then my shit didn't run last week either. I'm not hating on the Best of Baltimore or anything, but that thing screwed me out of a paycheck, so I guess maybe I am venting on it a little bit. Fucker.
Anyway, seriously, man, my spleen hurts. I mean, I think it's my spleen. I'm pretty sure, because I saw the other week on teevee (and I woulda got into this sooner in this space but, like, "see above," OK?) this football guy landed on his spleen or pulled his spleen or got tackled by the spleen, and then they (and you know who They are) went and cut that bad boy right outta him so's he could heal up and get back to the business of Football, which is the American Way and shit. So I went and looked on the GoogleT to learn All About Spleens because, I mean, c'mon, I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on television, so how'm I gonna know what a spleen is, or where it lives, or its habits or whatever, hah? Sure, I had one of those "Visible Man" models when I was a kid, with all the nerves and blood-tubes or whatever they call 'em, and the bones and muscles and organs, but if there was a spleen on that thing, it probably wasn't very interesting, or else I woulda remembered it. Like, you know, the heart and the brain and the lungs and eyeballs and stuff like that's pretty memorable, but the spleen is like one of those square states Out West, right? Like it is the South Dakota or Colorado of organs, and no offense to North Dakota or Wyoming or, what, Iowa. Are those some more of those rectangle-states? Rhode Island? Anyway, any of those States of the Union like that.
But I had no effing idea where a spleen was, or what it looked like, or if it did anything, or even if it was one of those lazy-ass organs like the appendix, which basically just sits on its ass and doesn't do a goddamn thing until it decides it doesn't like the neighborhood anymore and then explodes if you don't get appendectomy'd in time, like mine tried to, seriously. Jeez, coulda just went along for the ride, but no, a whole human body you're living in, all kindsa organs pulling their weight, doing stuff with the blood and air and whatever, but it's gotta be All About Me, like, Hey, look at Me, I'm the appendix, a "vestigial" organ, if you will, and I don't do jack-doodley-squat around here, and nobody even really knows what I was ever supposed to do, even if you Believe in, like, Evolution or "Intelligent Design" and stuff, which means The Lord God had some sort of Purpose for the appendix, and there's, like, maybe all these prehistoric cave mans running around doing stuff with their appendixes or whatever, I dunno, chewing their cud, digesting food? Using it for communication? Har! But anyway, let's get back to Me, Mr. or Miz Appendix, because at this point I'm not even sure, but anyway, here I am, cold-chillin' in Your Body, and you know what? I have decided that I Don't Like You, even if that kinda means I Don't Like Me, since I'm In You, all Peter Frampton-like and everything, so look, get me the fuck outta here or I'm gonna go critical and explode and pretty much fuck everything up for errbody else in here, like the pancreas and those dumb-ass kidney twins.
Man, I hate my appendix, seriously. What a fucking ingrate. I'm not, like, transferring my unhappiness with my appendix or anything like that, or accusing my spleen of being a slacker, I'm just saying I got No Fucking Idea what my Spleen does on a daily basis. But at least now I know where it is, kinda-like under the lungs, I guess, I'm not really sure which side. But I think mine is sore or sprained or something. Does it have anything to do with your posture? Maybe it's just acting up because I'm thinking about it?
Does the spleen work like that? Do you have a spleen? When's the last time you spent some Quality Time with your spleen, hunh? To just maybe Think about it, maybe thank it for doing whatever the fuck it does? That's good for you, I think, all Holistic Medicine-wise, to think about your various parts (except for that asshole appendix, good riddance) and Reflect on what they're doing, I think, in my nonmedical Opinion. Look, I'm no hypno-chondriac or whatever, but I think I'm gonna go get my spleen checked out, at least if it doesn't involve anybody putting on gloves.
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