Homer Simpson and the Chicken Pox

About a month ago I was watching an episode of The Simpsons in which little Maggie gets the chicken pox and passes it on to her father, Homer. Now I bet you can never guess who Homer subsequently passes on the virus to. And no points for guessing if you already know.

Yes, it was me. Talk about reality TV - this is hitting too close to home. I’ve decided that I’m not watching any more medical shows. Go away Doctor House, no reruns of Scrubs or the next season of Nurse Jackie. God only knows what I may catch from one of them.

While the chicken pox is not a life threatening illness, it sure is a life annoying one. The picture of Homer Simpson scratching his spotty body with a branch was embedded in my brain, wanting to do the same, but refraining from it. After all I’m not a cartoon character who magically will be spot free in the next episode. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I heard someone say (over the phone of course, while wagging their index finger is the picture in my head), “Make sure you don’t scratch the lesions because they’ll leave a permanent scar”. Really? How come no one mentioned it earlier?

Now keep in mind that I could have no human contact, so the phone was my only connection with the outside world. In this age of instant communication, it wasn’t long before a significant number of people found out about my condition via the ‘have you heard’ method. So of course, I was kept entertained by many ‘when I had the chicken pox’ stories, as a child, as an adult, the unforgettable pain in the ass illness.

Thank goodness for the phone though. And thank goodness that I’m as popular as I am. Because on most days I had to charge my phone batteries both in the morning and in the evening. How else would I have been able to get through those dark two weeks?

Of course there were also the movies to keep me entertained. Before the Academy Awards ceremony, I had to make sure that I watched as many nominated films as I could. So I got The Fighter, The King’s Speech, The Social Network (which actually I had seen in the theater), 127 Hours (that one too!), Inception (oops, also in the theater), The Kids are All Right, under my belt. I’ve also downloaded Black Swan and True Grit but haven’t had ‘the time’ to watch them as yet, because I’ve been 'too busy’ on the phone.

Speaking of the Academy Awards, were they a big bore this year or was it just me bored to death? If this was the ‘younger and hipper’, give me the ‘older and frumpier’ back. Give me Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, Billy Crystal, Jon Stewart back. Please. I could have used a few laughs.

So even though I’ve recovered from the virus now and the scabs have all fallen, I feel like I should be named ‘Spotty’. Thankfully my face is not bad but the rest of me is covered with pink spots, which means that I’ll be wearing long pants and long sleeves for a while. Eventually I hope to be spot free again. And by eventually I mean by the end of April when I fly out to New York, the coolest, awesomest and definitely the most superficial city in the world. I really heart it!

So here it is. My story of how Homer Simpson gave me the chicken pox and messed up two weeks of my life. It was the un-funniest episode I have ever experienced.