You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Allergy season.
Could my eyes itch any more? Could they be more red, more irritated, more unhappy.
My eyes are unhappy like a PETA posse at the circus.
My eyes are swollen like Warren Buffet’s wallet.
My head is stuffed like a Manicotti in South Jersey.
I’m told I don’t have allergies.
I’m also told there is no Santa Claus.
What’s a man to believe.
Someone is being dishonest here.
My eyes are tiny nuclear furnaces of hate and irritation. I am staring through red puffy pupils that are agitated and tense like a hotel hosting simultaneous conventions from both the KKK and SCLC.
My eyes are without shame like Vladimir Putin dancing shirtless on a Crimea beach.
I am sneezing and blowing and inhaling air that is saturated with invisible funk.
I need the air. I could use more air. I just don’t enjoy whatever else is stuck to it.
What is stuck to it? How big is it? I can’t see it. But I can sure feel it. I can taste the air. It’s chalky, filmy, like dandelion recently mowed.
Is the air radioactive? Is it contaminated with nasty biological unmentionables?
My nose is running like Niagara Falls. Couples are trying to take wedding photos in front of my face.
But oddly, my nose is also raw, like an acerbic Eddie Murphy back in the day.
Gooney Goo Goo WTF is that?
I sniff in. I think I just inhaled a lump of coal covered in rag weed. Yum.
And my nostrils are crispy like a potato skin microwaved for 45 straight minutes.
My skin is red like I have Chernobyl wind burn.
My eye brows are sore. How do you get sore eye brows.
When I was a boy I went to the allergist.
They poked my arm. They stuck my skin. They smeared me with stuff and goo and things.
Am I allergic to cat hair? dandruff? lint?
How about pollen and rag weed?
Nope.
How about cement and cookies and Welches Grape Jelly?
Nope.
“He’s not allergic,” the doctor said.
Really?
What’s all that night-time gurgling you ask.
It’s just Tennessee, everyone assures me.
I am allergic to Tennessee?
That’s a hell of a diagnosis.
How much you gonna charge me for that?
Life’s Crazy™