Sunday, March 6, 2011

Where was I?

So, I guess that this is what cough medicine looks like now. Hello Millennium.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Drill instructors are sexy?

Here's how I define 'sexy' today (because I'm sick); 'sexy' is someone that I would feel compelled to have sex with even when I am so sick that I can't stop coughing.

Maybe this definition doesn't work everyday, but it works for me, today.

I just went to the doctor because I can't stop coughing (I am sick), and while I was waiting forever for the bus, I saw on the bus-bench that someone had written, "Drill instructors are SEXY!!!" I totally disagree. Maybe some drill instructors are sexy, but most probably aren't. In fact, I can't think of anything less sexy right now than some dad-guy yelling at me to do push-ups and run around. Especially if he has a flat-top and a red face.

Anyway, not sexy. I am in no way compelled to have sexual relations with that stereotype...Try again bored kids at the bus stop.

Friday, March 4, 2011

It's how I think I am coping

Ten years ago I figured out that I can get really frustrated. Like really fucking frustrated. Like so frustrated with simple shit that I just want to scream--for like 5 minutes non-stop. That's humanly impossible. But I so wish that I could.

Since it's technically impossible for me to scream at the top of my lungs for for 5 minutes straight, I, at some point (probably during an acid binge in the late 90's), started visualizing Shaking The Shit Out Of Things.

It doesn't really work that well. And I've never actually got past the 'visualizing' point, but these sick days that I've been homebound with my boyfriend are bringing me dangerously close. I love the dude, but if he makes me try to explain how I don't understand how to post a link on Twitter and make it small one more time, I am probably going to have to come out of this cough-syrup induced haze and Shake The Shit Out Of Him.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Help a bacon-loving sister out!!!

One of my friends is involved in the amateur cook-off for the Chicago Baconfest! And she needs votes to stay in the top 5! Please help by voting for her! It takes 5 seconds and about 2 clicks. There is no registry or email needed.

Follow the link (and scroll to the bottom of the page) and vote for #15-- Rebekah Persaud with her delicious Toasted Bacon Ravioli!!!



Remember how awesome I was?

Yesterday at work I was kicking ass. I dominated my sections and defeated all obstacles. I helped a million people and even had time to drink half a cup of coffee. I was winning! Until my last hour. Suddenly my vision went like this:

Like there was this weird crescent taking up my field of vision in one eye. It was like I had stared into a bright light (but I hadn't). And as the minutes ticked by, it got bigger and bigger. Until I had a huge blind spot. I got distracted by what was going on in my eye. I couldn't help anyone. I couldn't work. I couldn't even explain myself to my coworkers. BUT I ONLY HAD ONE HOUR LEFT.

Anyway. I knew instantly that I was getting a migraine. And for me, when my vision goes like that, initially there is no pain. But eventually there will be. And that is a fact. So, as I'm trying to finish my last hour of work I am panicky. I am trying to tell myself that it's just because I KNOW THAT I'M GOING TO BE IN SERIOUS PAIN SHORTLY. But that isn't the case, and it's not that I was panicky. It's that I turned fucking retarded. My I.Q. dropped 50 points. I'm not kidding. I started to think that I was stroking out. For example; somebody said, "Omega 3" and I had no idea what they were talking about. I was like, "???What the hell is that? I feel like I know that word, but I'm not sure if it's made up or not? Is that a serious word? I can't spell it. ICAN'TSPELLIT!!!" (this was all going on in my head).

GOD. Last night was dumb.

To make a short story short, because I know that you don't have all day, I did make it home. Somehow. I probably looked insane on the train with a crunched up face and a wonky eye, but at least everyone left me alone. I got to my apartment, walked in my door, took two Excedrin Migranes, picked up my dog and went to bed. And that's the story of how awesome I was.