Me and My 2,000 Newest Flesh-Eating Friends



Tracy: “Hey, do you want to meet up for an early dinner?”

Me: “I can’t…I have a situation.”

Tracy: “Oh, this should be fascinating.  What now?”

Me: “Two of my fourteen kids popped positive for lice this week, and one of them always hugs me when I’m at my desk, and rests his head on mine.  My OCD just went from dormant to full Adrian Monk.  I refuse to let them check me, but I swear I can feel them fucking all over my scalp.  The ones behind my left ear are into some really kinky shit.”

Tracy: “Napalm or shaving your head?”

Me: “Olive oil.”

Tracy: “How does THAT work?”

Me: “I saturated my hair and then wrapped my whole head in plastic wrap and a shower cap.  I smell like Mario Bartoli’s ballsack.”

Tracy: “Look at the bright side, it could be Guy Fieri’s.”

Me: “I’ll keep the lice, thank you.”

13 thoughts on “Me and My 2,000 Newest Flesh-Eating Friends

  1. ah. lice. psychological terror. no olive oil here. I read that they don’t like heat and I was tempted to just torch all the kids’ heads. and this vaguely reminds me of the time hubby started taking garlic pills to prolong his life (why?) and asked me if I could smell it. I was like, “jesus. you just need a chicken and we can eat a dinner Mario batali would be proud of.”

  2. My son was unlucky enough to get lice twice in pre-school (not since then, thank God). I didn’t want to put poison on his little head, so we slathered our heads in mayo, wrapped with saran wrap and heated it all up with a hairdryer. The mayo kind of melted and dribbled down our backs, but that was pretty harmless. Washed our hair several times with “clarifying” shampoo and had marvelously soft, silky hair for a week, even if we did smell like salad.

    I have read recently that a vinegar rinse will also loosen the glue those little suckers use to apply their nits, so a follow up rinse with vinegar and a good combing should take care of them.

    • Um…fuck, yeah, you did! Sadly, I’m seriously thinking of things that could be used for this purpose. My dishes aren’t done and my dog needs a bath…but, I have time for this.

  3. Um…I’m sure it burns like a son-of-a-gun, but in my parents and grandparents day, they used kerosene on kids’ scalps, and I was told it worked. OUCH! keep head away from open flame…

    When I taught, I, too, was terrified of lice, and imagined crawling on my own scalp whenever students had infestations. My long skinny Pippi braids seemed custom-made bug-bridges. Ew. Ew-ew.

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