“Meatosticku Jiuando, Meatosticku Kakushite, Meatosticku Toridashta, Jiuan, Do Do Atamaga Shock, Do Do Atamaga Shock.” ~Phish
Imagine these lyrics, as strange as they are, stuck in your brain for a week straight. This, sadly, has been my plight. I’m not exactly sure what to do about this.
It all started in Denver, Colorado. No. Wait. It started much earlier. My husband showed me a New Year’s Eve video (on YouTube, of course) of a cast of crazy fools doing an even crazier dance for 20 minutes straight. This was followed by a giant flying hotdog and red wiener balloons. I kid you not. I would not joke about such a thing. Especially a thing I do not completely understand myself. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. Unbeknownst to me that’s when it all began. Atamanga shock.
In truth the unseen malignancy didn’t manifest itself fully until August 31, 2012. Worse than a sleeping monkey, it lay dormant since the first viewing of the 12/31/2010 video. Who knew that on 8/31/2012 a terrible ear worm would awaken in my defenseless brain and I would be singing “take out the meatstick, bury the meatstick” over and over again like some deranged porn star? Much like a viral infection this repetition had spread until I was muttering “shocks my brain” every five minutes. Whoa-o.
We thought a healthy dose of glow stick therapy would cure me. It seemed logical, trade one stick for another. Meat for glow. Makes sense, right? Not so. Even while I carried the glow in my head the meat was still on my brain. What a shock. Atamanga shock. Any suggestions?