Yes. Bulbous tumours everywhere, PLUS a runny nose.
Friday, December 28, 200111:45 a.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
Things Sarah does when sick (and now you can do , too):
1) Whine and complain for awhile -- then once you've gotten the point across that there is much PAIN and SUFFERING occurring, wallow in puddles of sniffling self-pity until your parent/guardian comes along and showers sympathy upon your sickly self. Then expect cards and presents. When they aren't forthcoming, realize life currently sucks. Upon said realization, take out some extra strength cold relief, and fly the medication wave until all the bad thoughts disappear. This is called the 'Liza Manelli Cure'.
2) Listen to sad music. While it will be sure to depress you and make you cry, listening to happy music will only want to make you dance. And after you attempt to "get your groove on" and discover that you can't because your limbs have stopped working and every step you take makes you want to lie on the floor in the fetal position and make all gross sickness go away, you'll be much sadder then any Elton John song anyway. 'I Want Love' by Elton John and 'Empty' by the Cranberries are recommended. Also, any country song made in the seventies. Yet, that will probably make you sicker anyway.
3) Grab blankets. Mounds of blankets. Build fort. Become quarantined ebola victim #2991 and have loud discussions with Dustin Hoffman and Cuba Gooding, Jr. Then, take the David Letterman route and begin repeating "monkey" over and over again until your parents and/or passersby adjust your meds.
4)Whine some more. Tell those in charge of your monetary funds that having the pony you've wanted since Grade Two would really make you feel better. This includes your boss also. He/She employs you. They may have money.
Unless your working at Mike's Mart. Don't ask then. Because the manager gets a little frisky.
6) Watch cheesy movies. With a lot of tissues. Movies I've watched in the past 24 hours: Cocoon and My Girl. If movies can't be found, television shows will substitute. For instance: ALF, Who's The Boss? (Perhaps, also, whilst watching, comment on Judith Light's hair, which seems to continually be attempting to take over the screen and castmates.), and finally, the cheesiest of them all -- if you can stomach it (a tricky thing whilst sick): Xena: Warrior Princess.
7) Play solitaire. You know you're dependent when you start screaming at the program to give you your goddamn seven of spades.
Friday, December 28, 200112:42 a.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
Which tree do you fall from? :
"a Lime Tree (Doubt)--
accepts what life dishes out in a composed way, hates fighting,
stress, and labor, tends to laziness and idleness, soft and
relenting, makes sacrifices for friends, many talents but not
tenacious enough to make them blossom, often wailing and
complaining, very jealous, loyal".
Finito. I'm going to go take some daytime cold relief, then relax in front of the tv to shitty, horrid Satellite Television.
Thursday, December 27, 200103:58 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
Pondering..
Have you ever been continually hit in the head by a small, hyperactive midget with a mallet? Or perhaps, had a ship the equivalent of the Titanic rest precariously on your forehead? Maybe, one or some of you have even been hit by lightning right between your eyes whilst simultaneously getting your skull smashed in with a rather heavy wrecking ball?
Yes. Well, now you all know my pain. Grooooooooooan.
Thursday, December 27, 200103:40 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
Thankyou, and please tip your waitress on the way out.
P.S.: I was going to add a link about Sociables Crackers, for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about. However, I couldn't find anything on the internet during the ten minutes I searched. I'm still sick, thus half-assed jobs on everything.
Wednesday, December 26, 200111:25 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
I think I have a cold.
Is that even allowed during the holidays? To have colds? Nonono, I don't think so. Even germs need a break, yes? Except, Hitler germs. Trying to take over the entire system while the other germs dance and play charades.
("Wait, wait! Let me guess... you're a NUCLEUS!")
So, my Adolf germ is vying to take over my entire body with cold cells, or what have you, and I need some help from my T-cells, etcetera, except them, working for me, have been slacking off all year playing ping pong and romping in my liver.
Oh, the lament of the laid-back employer.
And besides that, I'm on a lot of medication. And bored. And in Schreiber. And breathing in fumes, I'm sure. As Schreiber is a fume-y place.
("Its so nice to come to church for the holidays. *sniff sniff*..do I smell marijuana?")
Then everyone was offering me brownies and I lost my panties in the bell tower.
Really.
So how was everyone's Christmas haul? I got a lot of books and the like.. a few cd's.. some clothes and the coolest pants ever, which alas, chose to be too short. I might wear them anyway, rename myself Gilligan and sail the high seas for man "land ho"'s. Whatever those are, yes?
And better Christmas news, Mel's sister is getting married.
And Sarah's going on an all-expenses paid trip to the States. So, that's why I hate her this year. Heh heh.
We're having a party right now, in the loosest possible term for the word. Y'know. If by party we meant "4 people eating nachos".
Wednesday, December 26, 200103:32 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
Its worse then I thought:
I can't stop playing Solitaire, I've drunk a jug of Apple Juice. (A JUG. Is that possible? Am I an apple scented sponge? YES.)
But on the upside, its Christmas. And I woke up to Christmas music, which is what one should wake up to on Christmas morning. I hope you guys have a great day ;p
And dust for Santa fingerprints & memorabilia, and try and sell all findings on Ebay.
Tuesday, December 25, 200103:49 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
Tuesday, December 25, 200112:15 a.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
I miss my cable. MISS IT.
I'm so used to clicking a link and then watching as the computer immediatley gives into my demand, like an excited asskisser just before promotion-time. But not dialup. Oh no. Dialup is the rebel. The slow and lazy worker, slowly and lazily going to a page, and loading each individual picture for ages until its fully finished and I've grown both bored and 15 minutes older.
Or perhaps I'm exaggerating.
...
Nope. Not exaggerating.
Plus, here, in Schreiber, for those of you who know not where I am -- Hell, Schreiber, Kathie Lee Gifford's House -- It's all the same. ("Oh, and look Satan! Cody just put on his cowboy jammies and is asking if Santa visited Baby Jesus on the first Christmas. How cute!" To which, as we all know, Satan replies: "God, seriously, I'm sorry. Really. Get me out of here. No, seriously.")
And I'm sure Regis said the same thing. And miracles come to those who wait. Or something like that.
Then again, if they'd gotten rid of the both of them, I'm sure this'd be a better Christmas for all. Especially the Sweat Shop Children.
Also, in Schreiber/Hell/Kathie's house, apparently tap water comes out cloudy. CLOUDY. I'm not even sure what thats about. This dusty, cloudy, whitish liquid that tastes suspiciously like blood and fish. [insert disgusting joke here.] I just know that maybe those "tales" I thought my dad was joking about, the ones concerning the ashes of the dead and the arms of their loved ones throwing their dusty remains into our drinking source is perhaps a "little true".
"Yum.. that was great water. Boy, Uncle Fred sure tastes good!"
But of course, he wouldn't be saying that would he? No. Because the said child drinking Uncle Fred would be gagging like me because the water is GROSS and CORPSE-Y.
So right now, while on my bitch and moan rant and fretting about the Marie Claire I found in my dad's beside table, I'm listening to music. Christmas music. Of the cheesiest kind. I have some Elvis Presley... some Muppets... some Ella Fitzgerald & Dido -- but no matter how bad my need for Christmas music gets, Celine Dion will not make it onto this years cd.
So thank God for small miracles, yes?
I'm going to church soon -- to sing and dance and strip naked, or whatever we Christians REALLY do for that hour or so... maybe that'll make Christmas a little more Christmas-y. Every year, I think I just get a mite bit sad that Christmas will be over for a year. An entire YEAR. And neither I, nor Charlie Brown nor the Muppets can handle that.
Thus, Charlie's brief rehab stay and relapse, the Muppets gang wars and my blue Christmas.
And yes, Marsden, I will be careful this Christmas. But it's not me you have to worry about ... its those conniving evergreens... Yes.
Monday, December 24, 200109:46 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
-Dialup connection, as opposed to Cable. No frequent disconnection, but alas, incredibly, excrutiatingly slow page loading.
-Snow. There is much snow in Hell. Go fig. This isn't as bad, however, as now, the damned people of Hell can mock those still residing in Thunder Bay who will be celebrating a brown Christmas. So, let the mocking begin. Mock. Mock. Mock.
Thats about the entirety of all things that can be currently be listed for residing in Hell, as I have to get off the computer. Things to be done, people to be pitchforked, Osama's to be tormented for all of eternity.
You know how it is...
Monday, December 24, 200104:55 p.m.
listening to; A Winter's Song / Sarah McLachlan
reading; Hamlet by Shakespeare
..::: - & - :::..
Wisdom: Living outside Santa's front door with a camera, tracker, and Stalking For Dummies 364 days a year. On Christmas, I knock out Blitzen and attempt to fly...
