The Day I Ate Rat Shit

Wednesday, August 7th, 2013

Venus And Summer In Our Winter Coats, Dec 2012

There Is No Photo Of Me Eating Rat Shit. Sorry. Just a photo of me and my daughter.

It’s a long plane ride to Malaysia.

The plane is a heavy *DC7 and it lumbers and sputters, mostly through the air, for 27 hours.

This is awhile back in time.

Summer is 16 and has insisted on coming with me while I build a business in Malaysia.

“I can’t let you go to Malaysia alone, Mom!”

We’re seated side by side in the front of the plane, cozied up near the stewardesses. The ladies, with their trim suits and little caps, bunch up together and whisper and complain. They keep saying the plane is old and used up and that it’s going to crash. They talk about the plane’s noises, malfunctions and the imminent plane crash, the entire trip.

I don’t know why this discussion doesn’t bother Summer and me. What bothers us more is that we are served 3 meals, all dinners, and they are always red eel with spikes. The meal is especially bad when we are woken up at 3:00 AM in our morning to eat another round of ‘cactus’ eel. The eels’s sharp points stick and lodge in our tongues and gums.

Thankfully, we have brought a few snacks with us.

Around hour #20, I pull a 4″ long, thin, commercially sealed bag of nuts and seeds from my large purse. Yum.

Summer refuses my offer to share, as she is working on a few dry cookies.

I chomp down the nuts and seeds and think of America and pancakes and eggs with crispy bacon.

I’ve finished the bag down to about an inch or less, where the nuts and seeds are all powdery. I see the remains are thick with nice salt and dark spices. I tip my head back, thwack the end of the bag with the palm of my hand and tap the last of the food into my mouth. Chew. Swallow.

Arrrgh!! It tastes like rat shit! It tastes like rat shit!!

I bend over my lap, gasping and choking. I can’t get the stuff up. It’s too late! I peer in the bag. Oh my God! It’s not spices, it’s….it’s rat shit! 

“Arrrgggh!” I bellow and turn toward Summer. I’m breathing hard.

“Mom!” Summer draws sharply away from me and shrieks. “Your breath is awful! You smell like rat shit!”

I think I’m crying. Not only have I willingly eaten rat shit and even with I am going to die. I am going to get Rat Rabies and die! Or, maybe it will be a fatal Rat Fever or Rat Shit Cholera! I actually don’t know what terrible disease I will now get and die of because I have never researched or studied the effects of eating rat shit!

I’m blubbering. “Summer. I just ate rat shit. Look! Look!”

I show her what’s left in the bag.

“Oh, your breath is horrible Mom, it’s just horrible!!!”

She only cares how bad I smell. Wait until she smells me later.

Fortunately, because I am a hypochondriac, I am prepared for all eventualities.

I pull a large bottle of high powered Vitamin C from my purse and frantically swallow most of pills in the bottle.

I can tell you now, that I don’t die… but I do get a terrible case of the runs from all the Vitamin C….and diarrhea is not fun on a long flight to Malaysia on an old, heavy plane that is about to crash.

*It’s a DC7 or something like that.

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Whoops! Another Good Doctor!

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

Sometimes It Would Have Been Better To Have Stayed Home For The Day

A phone call comes from a friend of mine and she is screaming with laughter. She has just read my blog from last week, recounting the mighty gas display by my Good Doctor.

‘Sylvia’ feels compelled to tell me about her husband Dr.’Pete’, the chiropractor, and his  profound  experience.

He likes to dress casually when he works, she says. A sport shirt and a nice pair of pants will do the job.

One day he is busy adjusting a 400 lb lady. He bends over her as the big woman lies face down on the adjusting table. Because of her size, he has to labor to put his full weight into the adjusting maneuver. The mighty stress of the effort suddenly and most unexpectedly, rips his pants wide open from his back waistband right down through his butt cheeks to the crotch of his pants.

“Not to worry,” Dr. Pete later tells his wife, “my  patient didn’t hear the ripping tear  because at the same moment she was ripping herself, as she let out a gigantic fart!”

“But, feeling a need to work more freely, Pete had decided not to wear any underpants that day,” Sylvia tells me. “And as he said, ‘Because of that small lapse, while working with patients and nurses I had to keep my back to the walls of the clinic for the rest of the day. One of the hardest parts was that patients often bring family members into the treatment room and they sit wherever they please! What a day!”

The moral may be that, while it is not easy being a patient, we should all have some patience and understanding, as it is not always easy being a doctor.

*Would you like to receive my NEWSLETTER; ‘The Juicy News” ? Sign up where you see the Blue Head Phones on the right side of this blog story on the original blog page:

*If My True Life (this Blog) gives you a lift, please consider EMAILING it to your friends. You will keep me writing and that is good for my mental health. Better To Get These Weird Things Out Of Mind, Rather Than Keep Them In, right?

*Do you know the kind of work I do when I’m not busy having Adventures? Look here for details. THIS YEAR is a great time to have a phone reading with me!   Visit me at for rates and availability.

*You can also find me on Google+ under venus andrecht.  All lower case.


Is It Luck Or Is It Chocolate?

Monday, May 21st, 2012

The Artist.. Wondering If He Will Be Famous Now Or After Death

Stan, my art teacher, is excited about something. He and my two art friends and I have been meeting and painting together for ten and one half years now. We feel like we’re almost related.

“Listen to this one,” he says as he fingers his little beard with his hand. “I was at a Ggallery  in New Mexico last week and the owner tells me a true story.”

According to Stan, a woman walks in, points at a huge not-very-good painting for $7,500 and says, “I want to buy that one.” Then, she buys a few more and ends up spending $8,500.00.

She asks the owner to have the paintings shipped to her home in Colorado. He says he will, but it will take him three weeks before he can get to it. This is okay with the woman.

Two weeks later the lady emails him and says she needs the paintings at her home in no less than three days. She’s having a big party and the art has to be there.

The gallery owner gulps and says, “I thought we had an understanding about when I can ship them.”

The woman says she must have them in three days. (more…)

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