Of Bad Muscles, and Bad Ideas

Welcome to my world of pain. In it, we say “ow”. “Ow, that fucking hurts”, and “Ow, when will this stop?”

Things like that. Meet the right side of my neck. Its postal code is 0w0w0w.

I don’t know. It’s all the exercise I’ve been getting, I guess, and my neck’s all fucked up for the fourth day in a row. Since I don’t have good enough medical to go to town on the massage, I should put out a personal ad, like, “Will trade my cooking and hot sex for your cleaning and massage skills. And your similarly hot sex.”

Boo, hiss. Muscle spasms are evil. Sigh.

(Despite that, I shall climb the highrise stairs in the morning. I shall not be circumvented by a mere spasm!)


A Canadian medical study has “…found that the (Botox) toxin passed easily from the targeted muscle into surrounding ones, weakening all the muscles in the area. ” Hence the whole new era of the non-smiling smile, brought to you by the makers of Botox, in which the smilers can’t smile because all their muscles are weakened. Instead, they have that weird spawned-by-the-Joker deformed smirk that just makes you leery of them and distrustful of their sincerity.

Then there’s the warning issued earlier this month about how, gasp, Botox has been found to result in some cases to cause strong side effects, sometimes even death.

Hmm. See, I never fuckin’ thought it made any sense to use a toxin that can cause death as a means of making myself pretty, even if a regulatory body and highly profitable industry managed to magically extract the killer deadly stuff from within.

…Which, surprise, surprise, reports now state they didn’t do so well after all. My question is, how many hundreds of millions of dollars were made in between the “Duh, looks okay to me” stamp and the inevitable realization of the obvious: Playing with toxins appears, at first glance, to be a real fuckin’ moronic thing to do.

Sorry, not shocked here. Ooh, scandal of scandals… botullism toxin, even when namby-pambied by a board of experts, can still fuck you up.

I pointed the story out to my boss and she goes, “It’s called BoTOX! Suddenly it lives up to its name and people are surprised?”

Unfuckin’ real what we do to ourselves, all in the name of beauty.

The silly people with their Botox, me with my stairs of evil. But only one of those two things will extend a life expectancy.

(It’ll be spent in agony, but it’ll last longer. Now… how is this a good thing? Okay, let’s not think about the pain/longtime deal and just pretend it’s an adjustment period… which it is, right?)

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