It's not a Tumor!

I found this weird lump on the back of my head a couple days ago, and just now I found a second one. Is it a cyst? Google says probably. I don’t know, but washing my hair will never be the same with this foreign bastard on the back of my head. I have another one on my ear that showed up uninvited a couple of months ago. I thought it was a zit or something, but it’s still just hanging out there like a bar fly, throwing off the once perfect symmetry of my right ear.

I feel like my head being taken over by cysts. Am I going to turn into a cyst face, lumpy and deformed, the kind of thing that kids point at in the grocery store so that their parents have to apologize? Are these lumps going to keep mutating and getting bigger and then hatch spiders? Am I going to start having all these health complications now that I’m in my late twenties? What’s next? I already get the same kind of lectures my mom used to give me about wearing sunscreen from coworkers because my nose is basically about to peel off from being sunburned over and over. I do wear sunscreen. I can’t help that my nose sticks out like the hand of a sun-dial, absorbing every bit of radiation.

I remember seeing this lady on TV years ago that had some kind of disorder, probably the kind I’m going to get with a nose like this. Her regular nose had been destroyed, so the doctors had given her a detachable one that would adhere to her face using a powerful magnet. I always thought that would be kind of cool to have. I could have a nose for every season. I could slap it up on the fridge when I got home from work. I could be a real life Mr. Potato head for my nieces and nephews.

If they get any bigger I will probably get these lumps checked out before they form an alliance and overthrow the government. Maybe I can get them surgically removed and donate them to science.

Until then, you can call me lumpy.

Plumb Crazy

I live in my brother's condo, and he has a warranty contract with this company called ECM, which, judging by their customer service reps, stands for Extremely Crotchety and Menopausal. They offer a call before service so that anytime you install the wrong type of fluorescent bulb in your kitchen so that it flickers like a strobe light that makes you feel like you're going to have a seizure every time you cook dinner, they can notify you thirty minutes prior to sending a rep out to make you feel stupid.

I had to call them last week because my light was flickering, my brother thought the hot water heater was about to rupture and flood the house, and the toilet in the guest bathroom was rendered useless after the coat hanger jerry-rig my brother put together rusted out and I found the float ball bobbing around in the toilet tank like a dead body.

When I called to make an appointment, I used my work-phone voice, which means I projected a mirage of enthusiasm about making the call, as if I were calling to make an appointment with an old friend. The woman on the other end of the line sounded like her cat (and only friend) had died that morning, and didn't even attempt to feign interest in helping me, which I kind of respect her for. She said to make myself available for a four hour window between 8 and 12 on Monday morning, a time that I'm sure no normal person that works a 9-5 would ever agree to. I accepted so as not to make her day any worse.

This morning, I got out of the shower and checked my voicemail. A woman who sounded like she was calling from a boiler room in hell had left me a message saying that if I didn't call back within five minutes they were going to cancel my appointment. Frantically, I called customer service. It had been three minutes since she called, but I was waiting on hold due to high call volume. Did she include hold time in the five minutes, or was that five minutes gross? My mind raced with these thoughts, and just then, and old troll named Marla, with a gravelly voice that made it sound like she had been gargling martinis and smoking capris all night, answered the phone and asked how she could help me. "They told me that if I don't call within five minutes they are canceling my appointment!" I heard my phone beep, and put Marla on hold.

"ECM this is your call before," the demonic voice on the other end said.

"Yes I'm here. Is this for the plumber or the electrician?" They had told me they needed to send two people.

"Yes, this is for the water heater, the light, and the toilet," it said.

"Great, yes, I am here. Send them over," I said.

"You should let us know when you get a home phone number so that we don't have to keep calling you long distance," said the voice.

"Um, ok," I said, thinking for a moment that I should explain that I kept my Beverly Hills number because it makes me feel like a movie star.

Then it hung up. I switched lines and thanked Marla for her patience, assuring her that I was all set, so she could sleep tonight.

To their credit, ECM had one of the friendliest techs I've ever met. Or maybe he was just cheerful because he didn't really have to do anything except tell me things weren't broken. He told me I used the wrong bulb, the water heater wasn't actually leaking. He fixed my toilet within five minutes, afterward telling me that I "had my throne back."

At least I'm the king of something.