Posts Tagged ‘tic’

I find it entertaining when my friends use “tourettesing” as a verb. I thought you should know. I’m not sure how it started, but it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite neologisms.

It seems pretty apt, actually. Most people are uncomfortable with using the word “twitch” for some reason — my theory is that they’re afraid of making their friend sound like Lindsey Lohan in detox — and few people throw “tic” around in everyday conversation. Except maybe doctors and entomologists, but I’m thinking the latter are referring to ticks, not tics. Anyway, point is it’s apt because it puts the disorder right into the symptom. No longer do I have tics — I simply have Tourette’s! Yeah, I knew you’d like that, Tourette’s. You’re kind of full of yourself.

So yeah, I approve, but I’m just wondering how far this might go. I’m thinking there’s a line to be drawn somewhere.

Examples:  (more…)


Dear Tourette’s…

Posted: April 28, 2011 in Tourettes
Tags: , , , , ,

Okay, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? When Bezuidenthustra sits in coffee shop at 1:30am with hoodie pulled over head and fidgets out of control, Bezuidenthustra looks like sketchy crack addict who should be removed from premises. Remember? So quit it already!

Here’s the funny bit. There’s a guy at about twelve o’clock with tattoos and shaved head who looks like he just broke out of Oz. You know, the skinheads-gonna-fuck-you-in-the-dry-ass Oz we used to see on TV. This guy looks like he’s shanked a few dozen newbies, and he’s giving me nervous glances. Like I’m so beyond whacked out, even he wouldn’t fuck with me.

Actually, come to think of it, Tourette’s, maybe you’re kind of useful after all.

Wait, nope. Let’s not get carried away. (more…)

Dear Tourette’s…

Posted: February 9, 2011 in Tourettes
Tags: , , , ,

Of all your dances, the one I like the least has got to be the Perv Swerve.

Okay, in theory it’s kind of hilarious. Crunch the stomach in, lean back, contract lower abs. Thrust forward slightly, jerk spastically to the side, swing hips around, jerk spastically to the other side. Rinse. Repeat. Uhhh. Yeahhh. C’mon. Almost like a maimed, ketamine-addled Usher doing Conan’s string dance. So yeah, it’s kind of hilarious. Except me humping the air equals me symbolically humping anyone near me. Hence the name: Perv Swerve.

You and your complex motor tics. It’s pretty impressive how creative you get sometimes. You sick bastard.

This stuff really is funny when I’m all by myself. ‘Oh Bezuidenthustra, don’t you look silly humping your laptop!’ A real riot.

However, this stuff is not funny when I’m in public. I mean, it’s a downer pretty much anywhere, but two places in particular stand out.

  1. Waiting in line pretty much anywhere. Hey, the person ahead of me might be blissfully ignorant of the fact that I’m involuntarily air-humping the shit out of their ass, but all the people behind me are all too aware. And the weirder the looks get, the crazier the Perv Swerve gets. I’d like to disappear. Must put on headphones and play innocent. Must hope ground swallows me now. This is particularly bad when it’s hot out. Sweat and the Perv Swerve go together like beans and cornbread.
  2. Standing on the bus. This is the worst. Why? Kids and old ladies. If they’re sitting nearby, they’re getting a face full of crotch. This is as pervy as the swerve gets. I hate it. It’s also very unflattering when trying to eye-flirt with the cute girl at the back of the bus. Eye contact, smile, thrust balls across the cabin? Yeah, not so hot. There is one bonus, though: if I’m hanging near a vertical support, I’m presented with a fabulous opportunity to show off my unconscious pole-dancing skills. Stripper tics? Only time will tell.

I kid around, but seriously, the Perv Swerve is a pain in the ass. It’s also a pain in the bowels. Those contractions aren’t exactly smooth and measured. I’m going to herniate myself one of these days.

So please, can we cut the dirty dancing to those nights when I’m at least 6 Jose Cuervos deep at a raunchy club? Because there, at least, it’s somewhat appreciated. Or at least acceptable, if still mock-worthy. Maybe I can even start a dance craze. Funky Chicken, meet the Perv Swerve. Step aside. It’s on. Uhhh. Yeahhh. C’mon.

Yeah, right. Unlikely.

Not saying I don’t enjoy humping. I just don’t enjoy this humping.

Thrustingly yours,