Colds suck.
That's all there is to it.
You feel miserable, hurt everywhere, have a headache that feels like an army of about 30 chipmunks are all pounding on the inside of your head with miniature mallets, and your throat feels like about 400 fleas have all decided to make their residence inside of it and are all stabbing your throat simultaneously. And you know it's nothing to complain about, because you could have Malaria, or Consumption, or some other horrible malady. But you're still insufferably cranky.
That's how I've been all week.
So last night was probably the worst of it, because that's when I finally got the fever (which is usually the breaking point, but is horribly annoying). So after going the day without drinking much of anything, except for a cup of Airborne, missing a concert with a friend, and basically just bumbling around the house mumbling to myself in a haze because I finished my (400 page) book in a day, and had really nothing to do, I was rather... dazed. So at 9:30, after grabbing a piece of toast and getting ready for bed, I see this on the TV:
That's all there is to it.
You feel miserable, hurt everywhere, have a headache that feels like an army of about 30 chipmunks are all pounding on the inside of your head with miniature mallets, and your throat feels like about 400 fleas have all decided to make their residence inside of it and are all stabbing your throat simultaneously. And you know it's nothing to complain about, because you could have Malaria, or Consumption, or some other horrible malady. But you're still insufferably cranky.
That's how I've been all week.
So last night was probably the worst of it, because that's when I finally got the fever (which is usually the breaking point, but is horribly annoying). So after going the day without drinking much of anything, except for a cup of Airborne, missing a concert with a friend, and basically just bumbling around the house mumbling to myself in a haze because I finished my (400 page) book in a day, and had really nothing to do, I was rather... dazed. So at 9:30, after grabbing a piece of toast and getting ready for bed, I see this on the TV:
As I walked past the television with my toast, humming, I see a man who looks like he stuck a fork in a toaster and turned it on, talking about aliens. Am I the only one seeing the irony here? So, as I walk past, I look rather like:
So, having nothing to live for because of my pathetic ailments, this was like utter peril- the man on the television is telling us that our world is doomed and aliens are going to invade! And doesn't everyone know that, if a guy can afford that much hair gel, he must know what he's talking about, right?
Well, that evening I learned that Ben Franklin was most likely abducted by aliens, America was founded on alien principles, and they are watching our every move.
Oh, and my dog is probably an alien too.
3 A.M. found me in a dazed stupor, watching my dog from my bed in an attempt to find some sort of evidence of her prior abduction:
Until finally, at 7:
And this is why you should never watch a program on aliens on the History Channel while half delusional. You might just see this:
Poor you! And you did miss the concert! Bad! :P Humph. Well, I will drag you to the next one, if I have to. Ok, get better!
ReplyDeleteHaha I like the alien dog! Get better soon!
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