Electrocutions and OCD

For those who are "abbreviat-ically-impaired" (like me, stupid abbreviations), OCD stands for Obssssessssssive Compulssssive Dissssssorder.

Now to our post.

I think I have said that my trip to Las Vegas was hugeamongously awesome, and the subsequent trip to SanFra also, of course, but there was a unmistakably (I'm using weird adverbs today, sorry) interesting phenomenon that happened to me in Vegas.

But first, some backstory/background/context:

1. It was December when I was there, so, I had to use lots of layers of clothe; being from the tropics' makes even 70 degrees very cold. Although it wasn't nastily (adverbs) cold, I was ok, thanks to a pretty warm fleece (*please, read the word: "fleece" in emphasis on the combination of sounds "ee" a "s": fleeeessss*) (nevermind) (OCD'ed about sounds, I know...). Anyway, so, I had a fleeeessss (which reminded me of a sheep that my grandfather had, she was pretty cute, except when she would ram you for no reason... I was little then, so... her fur/hair was so tight and thick, just like the fleece, I guess that if I were a shepherd, and it were cold out, I would just sleep with a sheep embraced in my arms...) (so I digressed yet again). Again, I had that fleece, which kept me warm in the cold (and thankful that it was given to me), and actually kind of hot sometimes..., but anyway, the thing is that I had layers of clothing on, at least three. I don't remember the temperature, maybe around 40F?
2. The apartment I was staying (which had an awesome view on top of a hill (which also made it a little bit colder than the Strip)) (double parenthesis) had a very thick, cushiony, comfy, comfortable, contourable carpet (and all other adjectives with c). Not to leave out that ninety percent of the hotel floors have carpeted floors.

So, that ends the bit on backstory/background/context.

Now to the post.

So, in Vegas I developed OCD. Yes. How? Well, everything I touched shocked me. No, no. Not shocked me as in: "WoW that's frutal" (I say frutal instead of brutal, and brutal is a good thing if said in an excited way) (frutal just sounds fruity...) (I think I've said that before)... I got shocked as in electrocuted, (weird adverb coming) statically shocked. Yes. I open the car doors, TZZzz, Ow! I open the metal doors to get in the hotels, tzzzZ, Ow, mutherfucka. Joel touches the stairs hand rail, ttzZzzz, goddangit! Everytime. Everything that had a door or a handle, or something made for your hands to grab, Joel got zapped! Hard! And no, it was not my imagination. You could hear the electricity colliding with my fingertips. And sometimes afterwards I would feel my arm or my fingers very weak, as if they were flying, as if their soul was parting from their bodies... they died for some seconds, everytime, with every door or handle.

So, I developed OCD as a mean of selfprotection. I was afraid that the other Joel (not me, the other) (and not the other Joel who is me, the other Joel that lives in Vegas, and who is a real person)... I was afraid that he was going to find me in some corner, stuck onto a handrail electrocuted, with my hairs standing straight up, and a prickle of smoke flying from my charred eyeballs. So, I would tapped all handles, doorknobs and handrails, before grabbing them, and even then I got zapped. Bastard! So, then I just told him to open every door. It would had seem onerous, but hey, he probably had more grounding with the center of the earth than I had, because he didn't get shocked (well, maybe once or twice... I think), aaand he wasn't afraid of doors and handles, I on the other hand, was never the same afterwards. Doorknobs and handlebars are my enemies now. Although I have yet to get shocked here in Puerto Rico (maybe i'm closer to the center of the earth here, or I dont know, there something in the air that functions as insulation...). But yes, I still nervously tap all doors and handles, not all tho, but some. So I have never recuperated.

On the other hand, I guess it is an interesting thing to have a manic-obssssesssive thing like that, makes for good non-interesting, uninteresting, overinteresting little stories like this one.

So, I attributed the whole zap to carpets and clothing, and constant fucking friction. Who invented friction, and who made it make electricity and heat? Damn them. Damn all of those geniuses...

I should (shall) visit Las Vegas in summer and walk almost naked. So that no carpets or clothing can get in the way. But then again, I wouldn't, what if electricity traveled through fabric? No shoes? Don't think so. I rather keep my life, covered and hot and electricity-free.

Rambling. Ranting. I must go. I am going a bit unbearably incomprehensible. (adverbs)

Goodbay. (Goodbay? hmm, I wonder if that bay exists)...

goodbye. (no one says badbye... not even people who hate each other... why? Deep down we all want to live in peace... hmm, random thought).