No, his topics like this are to be found in MPSIMS…
I don’t see any other moderator posts, so I’m going to go ahead and bump this to MPSIMS.
There, see what all you malcontents did? Now it’s been moved, Sampiro won’t know where to find it and we’ll NEVER hear the end of the story! Dammit! 
Well, maybe if we invoke Cupid he’ll come back to be our Muse? 
(Yes, I mean a certain, particular cupid, and white tunic and all…)
Apologies for playing Dillinger and letting this dangle, but… eye exams, more eye exams, busy at work, etc… I’ve decided to just say this of the Orkin Story since it’s a cycle in and of itself: I’ve become increasingly patronizing and hostile to wage slaves in cubicle farms, especially when they call me “Hon”. (Don’t. do. that.)
So, to wrap this one up at least to a degree:
There’s nothing my sister loves more than somebody else’s health problems because it makes her feel needed and informed (especially when she asks what medications you’re taking- it’s like Vinton Harper talking about car keys). We’ve been talking at least every other day about my eye problem and muscle pains. Just today I actually said, without prior intent to repeat it and with a weird pride, the following sentence:
Getting a bit ahead of myself, the ability to say the above sentence about any medical condition is, to an Old Southern Woman, a religious annunciation somewhere between the Shahada and being told by a glowing form “from thy shrivelled womb shall come a holy man”, and all the more so when it’s true (which it doesn’t have to be).
But anyway, prior to this, and the inspiration for the thread, was when my sister, half jokingly and half seriously, said “Well, other than goin’ half blind, having a sore leg and a sore ass, smokin’ like a damned steel mill and all the breathin’ problems that’s probably causin’, living in a house full of dead rats and a murderin’ dawg” [the Orkin story] “and bein’ narcoleptic and havin’ high cholesterol, how you gettin’ along?”
The following is WAY TMI and also a couple of weeks old; you’ll be glad to know I’m much better now.
“Well… let’s see… ooh, I’ve been constipated as well.”
“Hmm. Know that feelin’, I think our family coat of arms would be a buzzard in a straight jacket straining for a bowel movement while at the same time tryin’ to bite a cat. Constipation is like our family’s official eternal problem and uniter- some of us rich, some of us ain’t, some of us hippies and some of us sensible, but all of us are constipated. Goes all the way back.”
“Well… our great-great-grandfather wasn’t. He died of dysentery outside of Vicksburg in 1863.”
“Lucky bastard. Flood or famine I guess. Is it ‘just cain’t go’ or you ‘try and try and all you get is tired’ or ‘the breech birth golfball’ or what kind?” Like the Eskimo words for snow, this and my family.
“Actually it’s of the ‘Damn… I know I did more than that little marble, where’s the rest of it?’ variety.”
“Oh I hate that one… that’s when suppositories and fruit juice work back. Put the suppository up your ass but drink the fruit juice. Feenamint works best for some and Dulcolax for others and psillium’s never a bad idea… are you still taking it? But you’ve got a suppoia dfj aojiofja fjaojo zknoa roa rao vnaaodl fand aofuo…”
And this is when it hits me:
“IT’S A WORD HELEN… OR ACTUALLY A PHRASE… DAMN HOW DO I EXPLAIN WHAT PHRASE MEANS… O-L-D S-O-U-T-H-E-R-N W-O-M-A-N!!! G-O-O-D G-I-R-L!”
You’ll have understood why I say this, but I’ll return to summise and elucidate after a few words from our sponsor (“New from DEPENDS, it’s the Suppository Pez Dispenser Adult Underwear…”).
How is the eye now, Sampiro?