Sept. - The Raleigh Hatchet, a monthly music, art and humor ...

Consumer HeroThis month, the ConsumerHero’s pain lifts and separatesy Tim Andersonllustration by Kristin Matwiczykh Moses. Something horrible hashappened. Something absolutelyhocking, gratuitous, and vile. I can’t giveetails. Did my cat just step in front of aawnmower? Maybe. Did I mangle a fingerhile changing my most recent flat tire?erhaps. Did I spill a 2-liter Diet Rite Whiterape all over my laptop keyboard andit powerless as a Pulitzer-worthy piecef typing I had justnished meltedway forever?ould be. All ofhe above? I’mot saying.uffice it totate thaty life isow ruined:have to findnew pet, I’llever play theiola again, andcan’t even get onhe internet to get somemergency porn or pick a fight witheople on myspace.As I sat on the couch, glazed andiffused, contemplating which building tohrow myself from, watching Halle Berryn television say the word “fabulash”ver and over and over, I thought surelyhere was some household product Iould find that could calm me down, takeway thoughts of suicide, provide memmediate or at least eventual relief fromanic attack, and make me forever forgethat the word “fabulash” ever existed.bviously, I’d picked the wrong week toompletely run out of weed and Benadryl.Naturally, when the shit hits the fan,ne’s thoughts first turn to alcohol.nd while I firmly believe that there isbsolutely nothing wrong with stayingome alone and slamming back shotsntil the only reasonable option is too out in public naked and flailing, Iad to work in the morning. And I hado booze. My aching head sank into myhands, and for a minute I thought I saw abud between the cushions of the couch.I seized it in my hand, but it was only atiny piece of cat turd one of the dogshad taken from the litter box and notfully disposed of. I placed it aside in case Ineeded to smoke it later.My forefingers massaged my templesas if to coax some good ideas out of mydrug-not-addled brain. “No weed, nobooze, no Benadryl”I muttered. “No….weed…no…booze…..NetiPot!!” All of asudden I remembered that I’d recentlybought a Neti Pot nasal irrigationthingamie because my friend Clairehad told me it might help my snoringproblem, which was leading me andmy boyfriend rapidly down the road toa quickie divorce (and we weren’t evenmarried, much like Michael McDonaldand Patti LaBelle). It worked for a fewdays, softening the emissions of myhacksaw of a nose to an adorable gurglebefore it decided to revert to its defaultsetting of War of the Worlds-scale clamorand clang a few nights later.What you do is fill the little porcelainpot with warm-to-hot water, dissolvesome salt in it, bend over the sink, stickthe spout up one nostril, turn your head,and basically fill your nasal passageswith the salt water solution, sending itup towards your brain and then out theother nostril. After that you will have toblow your nose. For a good two hours, inmy case. Then you do the other nostril.After the whole process is complete,your nasal passages are as cleanas they could possibly expect toever be, and you can smell breadbaking in Barcelona. Also, and moreimportantly, you feel a little giddyand bleary. And while there is a longlist of other things I’d rather put upmy nose than a Neti Pot spout, it wasthe best I could do at the time. So Idid it.It helped a little. At least theconstant blowing of the nose tookmy mind off of my cat, my finger,and my Pulitzer. But the highfrom a Neti Pot buzz isdisappointingly fleeting,and I was soon backin panic mode, on myhands and knees inthe den desperatelysearching for a pill thatI could try to OD on.Snooping around in myboyfriend’s drawers, Ifound something thatI though might couldsmooth out the roughedges. Palmade. I’dheard that a little bitof it on the neck leadsto relaxation and moments of exquisitepleasure. I rubbed it all over my body.Rubbed it all over. Rubbed it in real good.It did feel good, that Palmade, butit still fell far short of the sweet, sweetoblivion I was in search of. I felt anotherpanic attack coming on and quick, soI ran into the den, having thought of agood way of at least staving it off fora few minutes. A few months ago, theboyfriend and I were babysitting hissister’s little bundle of joy, Ava Grace, andwhile her name is suggestive of quietconsumer hero5