Apparently, somewhere, sometime way back in the beginning of human interaction, someone decided that telling another person every little physical ailment they had was appropriate conversation. Over time, people have perfected the art of boring other people with inane tales of kidney stones or gall stones or sciatica or diarrhea or achy penis or whatever. In my time on this planet, I have perfected the art of not giving a fuck. I do not care about your trivial personal ailments. At all.
I can understand some things are fairly big and traumatic and become a major part of someone's life and the life of those around them. Cancer? Yeah that's a big deal, so I can understand conversing about it. Your arm got ripped off by a bear? Yeah, that's an interesting story. I want to hear that shit. "Your friend" somehow got a light bulb stuck in his ass? Fuck yeah, I need to hear that story. But, you feel like you're pissing a flaming bowling ball because you have stones? Your Carpal Tunnel is acting up again because you spent 7 hours surfing porn on the internet last night? I don't give a fuck. Really. Don't tell me about that shit, I don't want to hear it. Just like I don't care about your kids and the cutesy bullshit thing they did last week at Chuck E. Cheese, I don't care about your stones. Or your Carpal Tunnel. Or your achy penis.
What is even more torturous than someone just randomly telling me about their most recent hernia is when I'm near two people who seem to think that these topics are appropriate conversation. It makes me cringe when one person asks the other "How's it going?" and the other goes into a lengthy description of their kidney stones; which then invites the other person to talk about their uncle and his kidney stones; which then turns into a one-upping contest of mundane medical bullshit that is usually exaggerated for effect. "Well, my grandpa once had a tapeworm the that measured 63 feet long and craved buttermilk..." It's never an intelligent conversation, and it's usually riddled with one of them butchering any number of medical terms that may or may not be accurate and/or related to the ailment being discussed and one or more completely stupid Wives' Tale. "My Granny says the only way to get rid of a malignantated tapeworm is to set your ass hairs on fire and the smoke chases it out." I was subjected to similar conversation recently, and that shit made me want to choke bitches like Wayne Brady. I ended up leaving the room because I was very close to losing my mind and crushing their feelings to the point that kidney stones felt like a massage with a happy ending.
In hindsight, maybe I should have. Then they would have had something else to discuss with their friends, family, and random strangers in line at the grocery store. "My sternum hurts because Matt kicked me in the chest because I wouldn't shut the fuck up about my fucking kidney stones. My Granny says the only way to fix a perforatiated sternum is to mix some bleach, Vicks Vap-o-rub, and whiskey with a turnip green and pink Play-doh and rub it on your lower back. I don't how it works, but it does."
Fucking dumbasses. I think from now on, I'm just going to bitch about a headache caused by an annoying sound in my ears every time someone wants to tell me about their random ailments. Or just kick them in the chest and get it over with.
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