Touch Me I’m Sick

Nov 12, 2012 by

 

I feel like dog shit today, so I’m keeping this post short.  Instead of giving one of my typical dissertations on what this song means to me, I’m going to give you the wiki and tell you a story.

Superfuzz Bigmuff was one of the first albums I bought after getting a CD player for Christmas my sophomore year of college.  I loved it for all the reasons you’d think I would – it was loud and hard and the title sounded really dirty (it’s actually the names of two guitar pedals, and I lied, I didn’t buy this, my mom did, and she was so sure the title was dirty that she wouldn’t say it out loud, she would only point to its name on a list she handed the guy behind the counter at the record store).

My roommate, Harrison, had older parents (I don’t know how old but they seemed REALLY old.) and this particular weekend they had come to visit.  Harrison’s parents, being old, frowned upon things like frivolity and drinking.  Harrison was in school to work hard, and that was it.  Saturday night they took a few of us out to eat at one of Harrisons favorite country cooking family style restaurants.  You know the kind, pink checked plastic table cloth and endless bowls of fried porkfat infused food.  Harrison loved green beens, the kid could eat platefuls of them, didn’t matter if they were good or not, he was like a drunk guy at a party full of fat girls, he loved them all.  In this case the beans were good, so good in fact he was very upset around 3:30am the following morning when he was puking all of them up after the night of drinking we had after his parents dropped us off.

We lived in a dorm, not one of those crazy raucous dorms from the 70s and 80s movies about college, but a male only dorm nonetheless, so we were used to assholes knocking on our doors early Sunday mornings after puking green beans the previous Saturday night.  This appeared to be the case as there was a quiet but persistent knocking on our door sometime shortly after 7am.  My first choice was to ignore it.  When that didn’t work, I yelled at Harrison to get out of bed and answer the door.  He did not.  My next solution was to yell, “Go away motherfuckers we’re still drunk from last night, we need to sleep it off!”  The knocking didn’t stop.  My loft was closest to the bed so if anyone was going to end this hell it had to be me, I climbed down clad in nothing but my boxers, threw open the door and yelled “What!” right into the nice little old faces of Harrison’s parents. This was followed by a few seconds of all concerned staring at each other with that deer in the headlights look before I yelled at a slightly lower voice “Shit! Harrison, it’s your parents” then crawled back up into my loft and hid under the sheets.

Apparently Harrison had a date for church with his parents and had overslept, he rushed  around the room while his parents stood in there reading all the stuff I had scrawled on my loft (lots of stupid shit, the stuff you write when you’re in college, most of it isn’t worth repeating though at the time I was sure it was all fucking hilarious), as I heard them start to make their way out of the room I figured it was my time to make amends, so I leaned over the back of my bunk to catch his mom reading with horrifyingly wide eyes what I’d written at the foot of my loft, “FUCK ME I’M SICK!”.

We made eye contact for half a second or so, we would never make eye contact again.  I muttered I’m sorry, she scurried away and I crawled back under the sheets.

Have a great Monday, it’s got to be better than mine.

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