Itchin' bitch.

2006 seems to be wrapping up with real humdinger. Or humscratcher, shall we say.

The culprit - a gourd. A goddamn, sweet little pumpkin. What I used to consider a tasty flavoring to a latte, or baked into a nice loaf of bread, or the ultimate at Thanksgiving & Christmas in pie form. All shot to hell. No more of it.

And may I launch into a short tirade here? Because I am bringing up the rear (in more ways than you'll know) on Day 3 of this godforsaken hive session. What a fucking pain in the ass this is. Literally. Figuratively. And all senses in between.

My thighs have welts that look like I participated in a beehive-squeezing contest to see how long I could hold before their attacked was launched. My back, all the torso and yes, my friends, even my buttocks which does NOT need anything swelling upon it, looks like a connect-the-dots game waiting to commence. Hand over one of those markers the plastic surgeons play with and we could have a ball and create some type of human art, for fuck's sake. This morning I was searching the house far & wide for a tool with which to scratch the piss out of my poor, swollen tootsies..then about the time I would know my limit...the palms of my hands would start in. Oh, and then there was my seemingly-gradual-swollen mouth, lips and tongue. Elmer Fudd's had nothin' on me with his little lispy chatter. My hub just giggled when he saw the form my tongue had taken. From its once slim, pointy, elongated nature to now a version of "puffer tongue." Holy fuckness.

Was this how I would die? From having a pumpkin cheesecake the size of a 50-cent piece on Thursday night...and now to death's door (if only it was a bristle door, I could have at least scratched myself to pleasure until leaving the Earth).

Onto the ER for our Sunday morning brunch. Wheee. Just us, the drug addict, the potential gang-banging brother of a couple with child, and the nurse dressed all in fiery red KC CHIEFS attire to signify her support of the local team. Bless her.

Not a shot of epinephrine..not admittance to the room where I might lay until death. Instead a doctor and nurse who seemed annoyingly amused that I was probably their little break in the morning's craze. "Yep, looks like you've had an allergic reaction." REALLY? SERIOUSLY? Gee, I wasn't sure and was hoping you'd enlighten me because I perhaps misunderstood the FULL-BODY-ALIEN-LIKE ATTACK OF MOUNTAINOUS ITCHING MOTHERFUCKING CONTUSIONS covering my body mighta just been a little rash that I got from sitting in the grass. GIMME SOME ANTI-ITCH MEDS, CLOWN! And by the way, I'm really glad to help with your amusement Dr. and Ms. Nurse. Okay, when off my rant, I'll admit that actually I'm relieved that no needles or uncontrollable highs were on my list of things accomplished for this second weekend in December. And I'm even more relieved that my escapade with some shellfish whilst in wine country last weekend didn't land my ass into this swollen state because that woulda been really goddamn hard to taste wine & take notes with only one free hand because the other would have been too busy scratching.

So, going back to that thankful post during Thanksgiving...I will give thanks for the aforementioned PLUS the fact that I know now how important it will be to schedule my itchin' ass for a thorough allergy panel test fucking IMMEDIATELY, if not sooner.