Hillbilly Mom Hosts A Parasite

When it comes to entertaining, I'm not exactly the hostess with the mostest. I do not like to have guests at my Mansion. That's how I roll. I would install a moat if I thought HH could keep it clear of possum carcasses and uninvited salesmen. But this morning, I found myself playing hostess.

The guest was most definitely uninvited. You might even say he was a surprise guest. I compare him to John Belushi, as 'The Thing That Wouldn't Leave', back when SNL was new and funny. My guest infiltrated the Mansion without even knocking--or ringing the broken doorbell. He was my constant companion. I could not shed him. Truth be told, he went to bed with me around 2:30 a.m. Now don't you worry about HH. He's used to doublin' up. Oops. That's a line from the worst-acted movie of all time, 1968's True Grit, the vehicle which reeled in The Duke's Academy Award. I can't say 'OSCAR' without that trademark thingy. The blog police might extradite me to the Academy, where I will be forced to watch a rerun of Billy Crystal hosting the Awards.

I don't want y'all thinkin' I'm some kinky swinger, but...shh...don't let this get out...the Uninvited Guest even showered with me after HH left for work. Then he sat in the big blue recliner with me while we watched Morning Joe. It was then that I realized for the first time that I am really proud of my country. No. Wait a minute. That's Michelle Obama. What I realized was how he had overstayed his welcome. The Uninvited Guest, I mean--not Morning Joe. Joe is welcomed every morning, unless Tiki Barber is on the panel, and then I must turn the channel, because a more untalented morning news show semi-regular I have never seen. Poor Tiki once offered some political insight that a toddler would know. I take that back. A mere fetus could have spouted such a comment, if there was a microphone on his mama's belly, and if he had reached the gestational age where he had vocal cords, and he was precocious. I think Tiki should have stuck with football, the one that brung him, instead of attempting this gig. Or maybe just a sports show, where he is knowledgeable. His talents and my time are wasted when he joins Morning Joe. Give me that misogynist Mike Barnicle any day over Tiki.

Now where was I? Oh, yeah. I leaned forward in HH's big blue recliner to scratch my left ankle, near the lateral malleolus. For those of you who didn't have a college anatomy class, that is the lump three feet above your a$. WHOA! No it isn't! That would be Tom Hanks's head in A League of Their Own. The lateral malleolus (tell 'em, Bean) is the ankle bone on the outside of your ankle, like on the side of the little piggy that went "WEE WEE WEEEEE" all the way home (because somebody said 'don't feed the pig'). See. Wasn't it easier just to say 'lateral malleolus' and let you guys Google it?

So I leaned down to scratch my lateral malleolus, which I had not done last night, because I was in my rolly office chair, the best Christmas gift HH ever gave me, and when I bend over forward, it has a tendency to shoot backwards out from under me like some prize rodeo bronc, which is both embarrassing and uncomfortable. I used my red wooden backscratcher that I keep hanging on the knob of a drawer in the cabinet of my computer triangle. Ahhh...that hit the spot, that red wooden backscratcher that I poked down inside my sock and sawed back and forth, easing my itching with the little pointy wooden bits at the end of each of the four carved wooden 'fingers' of the backscratching hand. Imaging my surprise this morning when I used my own beige fleshy hand with real fingernails that I had just bitten off yesterday, and found, upon scratching that annoying itch, my dishonorable Uninvited Guest, the

TICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, the horror! I hate a parasite with a passion! Especially if it is on ME!

I could not evict the Uninvited Guest posthaste. I have tried that before, and much pulling and twisting does not hasten the exit, except in those unfortunate guest-ejecting faux pas during which the Uninvited Guest is decapitated, which is an unfortunate scenario for the Guest, but even more worriesome to the host. Having heard that an Uninvited Guest can be smothered by coating him with Vaseline, I did the next best thing, which was to coat him with Triple Antibiotic Ointment from The Devil's Playground. Don't be hatin', peeps. At least I didn't pull the HH trick of holding a lighter on the Uninvited Guest until his legs shriveled, in the hope of getting him to 'back out', though how he can back out with shriveled legs is beyond me.

After five minutes disinfecting under his layer of ointment, the Uninvited Guest was in for a rude awakening. I grabbed a Puffs With Aloe from the kitchen counter, wrapped it around the Uninvited Guest, and removed him from my lateral malleolus with one yank. Let the record show that the Guest made a sort of 'pop' and a crunching noise, which was not at all anticipated. I then flushed him unceremoniously down the toilet.

His days of Uninvited Guesting are over.