Aliens ain't got nothing on me!

The past: You know, my birth wasn't peaceful most children's. No, I was a pain in the ass from the very beginning.

My mother still had while to go in her pregnancy (a time in which, according to her, I spent mainly kicking her in the bladder) but got toxemia. Into the hospital she went to get me the hell out of there so we wouldn't die. From what I gather there odds were 50/50 we'd either live or die.

I don't know the fine details of what happened up to this point, but they got her into the operating room and starting cutting away. My dad nearly passed out as he could see the whole thing from the other side of some glass.
What happened next was surely a warning to my parents. The surgeon got down to me and like a scene from the Aliens movies, I burst from my mom's belly and screamed at the man. Astonished, the only thing he could say was "Well, will you look at that?"
The scary part of it all is I can remember that moment. *shudders*

I don't know what exactly happened after that, except that my mother and I both survived, and I have no other memories until my fourth birthday party. That is a story for my next entry.

The Present:
I haven't slept worth anything lately but have had the most vivid dreams. The latest consisted of nothing but me, sitting on my ass, rolling cigarettes out of cherry pipe tobacco. The strangest part is that I've been having a total nic-fit ever since I woke up.
I don't smoke!
Well, at least not often enough to be feeling any nicotine addiction. I might smoke a cigar or pipe bowl of cherry tobacco around once a month, usually not. I'm really confused right now but I tell you, I'm buying some damn pipe tobacco today.

Two things are annoying me today:
1. Jock itch, or as I like to call it, crotch rot.
I had the misfortune of staying in the (lack of) Quality Inn in Livonia, MI. a while back. (Which will eventually get it's own entry in The Past.) While there, I made the mistake of taking a bath and was left with a fungal souvenir.
I wouldn't be quite so pissed except I am an obsessive compulsively clean person and now know that I've got fungus growing in my nethers that probably cultured on some businessman's ass. It's also extremely hard to get rid of.
Thanks Quality Inn people, I love the crotch rot you included with my continental breakfast and I'll be thinking of you every time I scratch my balls.
2. The damn electric heater in our kitchen.
If you've never been in Michigan in October, let me tell you this, stay away. It's not rare for the kids around here to occasionally dress up as snowmobile riders for Halloween so they'll have an excuse to wear their snow suit as it's that damn cold!
Now, this October, thanks to the rather unfortunate timing of my parents divorce and my inability to find a job (thanks Granholm, you fuck), my mother and I can't afford the Kerosene to fuel our regular heater. (Yes, I still live with my mom. I'd move if I could afford to.)
We are now using a tiny electric heater to heat a drafty old six bedroom farm house.
As soon as my mother got home today, the first thing she did was turn down the heater as the noise was supposedly bugging her. She goes to bed shortly after.
I should note that this heater makes about as much noise as a fan.
Now, I'm sitting here, using the computer when the temperature outside hits a magical degree. The temperature in the house shifts just so and...
The heater comes on... Shuts off... Comes on... Shuts off... Comes on... Shuts off... Comes on... Shuts off... This went on for five second intervals for around an hour until I had finally had enough and turned the heat up to stop the damn thing.
I know she's going to bitch me out in the morning for turning the heat up but so help me, I'm going to fill up a squirt gun and hose her every time she reaches for the knob on that thing. If I can put up with an hour of off, on, off, of, she can put up with a few hours of slight mechanical noise.
Oh, by the way, after turning down the heater due to the noise, she complained about being cold...