Doc loves finding little video clips demonstrating human stereotypes that she thinks fit me accurately. More often than not, she is way off base. Like the time she found some video of a guy with ADD and his family that raps and sings about it. I explained in that post how badly she got that wrong and went on to demonstrate such. Her response was to address me by her favorite pet name for me. I can’t repeat it here. Mixed company and all. But it is completely endearing. Honestly. I don’t know why.
However, I am a big enough person to give props where props are due. She found one recently that was ludicrously accurate. A video, I mean. Not a prop. It was more truthful than I can possibly relate given the limited nature of human language. If I spoke in the tongues angels or math maybe I could. But I don’t. So, I’ll just show you. Just to preface this, I am represented by the bulldog and she by the other creature that is insanely and inexplicably happy to cavort in the frozen powder that is my current nemesis.
Look. I get it. It has been suggested to me that my lineage should have me happy in the absence of heat. One might think my Norse and Welsh blood would make me ok in the cold, but my Moroccan blood despises it. Can you think of a single ancient culture’s version of heaven that is freezing? I think perhaps Dante’s 9th circle is probably the most accurate depiction of hell ever rendered.
It’s not just the cold though. Of late, the second-place holder on my list of things-I-hate-about-winter is running a tight race for the top slot. Dry skin.
Dry skin might be a bit of an understatement. Just look at this image of my leg:
I’ve taken numerous steps to combat the itch and the evidence of reptilian DNA. Regular lotions don’t quite work, so I found this cocoa butter and shea butter conglomerate that seems to help. I’m not entirely sure what a shea is, how you milk it to make butter, or why this particular dairy is good for your skin when the bovine butter clearly doesn’t work. Tried it. I don’t recommend it. The regular butter I mean. Look. You get desperate when itchy skin strikes during curfew and all you have is butter and olive oil.
One must be careful though. I’ve never really been a lotion kind of guy, so I am still learning things, such as the fact that certain lotions contain acid apparently and this acid reacts with scrapes and cuts in much the same manner as alcohol. Not the fun to drink kind. The kind that parents use to exact retribution for years of lost sleep by applying it to any little abrasion on their angelic son’s skin. I also learned some fascinating acrobatic feats designed to get into bed after a lotioning (it’s a word now, spell check). It’s amazing what traumatic brain injuries and bruised ribs can teach you when you have slipped nude and screaming from the edge of your bed while half asleep. Also, the floor is colder on your bare booty than it is on your bare feet or bare face for that matter. Close run second by nipples. But you can’t gouge furrows into vinyl tiles with a frozen butt cheek. So, it’s anybody’s game at this point, really.
PSA: Olive oil will stain your sheets and the smell sticks around for a while. The entertainment value might be worth it though. A clearly human shaped grease spot on linens confuses the crap out of MPs as well as the Korean police. If only it were warm enough to recreate this on concrete in front of the barracks. Although this might draw some strange looks in the middle of the day. Any time of day now that I think about it.
PS. Korean police do not believe in the Moth-man no matter how hard you try to explain it.