*Or in my case, the less expensive CVS store brand NyQuil knock-off.
It started with that damn tickle in the back of my throat on Tuesday.
By yesterday, I'd started coughing up strange looking globs of gunk and feeling run down.
This morning, I woke up and felt sort of like I'd been run over by a Mini Cooper.
Tonight, it feels like I've been run over and then backed up on and run over again by a dump truck.
I'm sick, hence the lack o' posts.
Hack.
Cough.
Could this sickness be caused by the fact that our FUCKING WEATHER can not figure itself out?
This time last week, it was getting down into the 40s at night and was totally, wonderfully fall.
Today, it was 89 degrees with, literally, 85 percent humidity. Tomorrow, the high's supposed to be 90. Global warming much?
Since my last post, it appears if people have woken up and started to smell the proverbial coffee. First, Britney dumps K-fed, then both houses of Congress were snatched from the arrogant-as-fuck Republiccans. As someone who lives on a liberal island surrounded by the rest of my ultra conserative state, it does my heart good to know that the American people have finally used the voting booth to tell that choade Karl Rove and his monkey-puppet GWB that maybe, just maybe, they're not infallible. (If only this could've happened 2 years ago...) And to have that dickwad Rumsfeld gone too? If I weren't so damn sick, I might dance a little jig in my undies right on the lawn of the Capitol. But not tonight.
Tonight, I've got a date with my NyQuil wannabe.
2 comments:
I swear by Oscillococcinum when I feel that tickle. It's the only homeopathic medicine that I really believe in. 3 of those suckers in half an hour and the next day I feel fine.
Hope you're on the mend.
Me feels demonstrably safer with our new scalpel fucking, ash combusting, snorkel choking, eat they pretzels representation at these levels. Where is Tom Jeff? Where is our armed revolver? In the spirit of political bent, Me thinks the pubulus should rise up, become hirsute, and cram thermite into the pancreas of the opponent. Once and for all, we makes realtime esplode.Throwing them sodium into the prowerbial whirlpools of the repub commodes.
Thankfully, and utterly, uttermost thankfully, me grees that changes in power must occur. Strip them badges, deflate them balloons, bust dem parties, neuter them weiners, lobot them thinkers, burnt them hotties, smoke them reifs, toss them stones at them gypsies, cross they tracks.
efficaciously, ich travel onward nach der, die, dan spitze. Tollvut. Fich dich.
Dan "the Dane", Tammy "the tempest"
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