Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Five things I really like today:

  1. Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter Crunch. Okay, I love this all the time, but today it is special as it scratches my itchy throat on its way down. Yay!
  2. The weather. Hot damn, it is a beautiful day. Great for those of you with the day off. (Happy Veteran’s Day. Since when is it on a Friday?) What about the morons who lay in bed until getting up to come to work and now getting ready to go back to bed? Can someone help me bring my bed outside?
  3. Sephora Customer Service. I called because a promo code expired before I got to use it and she totally hooked me up! Free samples! Free polka dotted bag!
  4. Available Kleenex. Because I am going through tissues like the unpopular kid at camp goes through underpants after the other kids tricked him into eating chocolate that’s really Ex-Lax.
  5. Sneezing. Today is special because my cold is at the stage where it is leading me up to a sneeze and then Psych! No sneeze. I like sneezing in general. It feels good and is socially acceptable in public. I remember an episode of Third Rock from the Sun where they had all caught colds. Sally sneezed so hard she fell back against the wall. The others asked what had just happened and she replied, “I don’t know. But I want another.” Amen sister.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Bring on the chicken soup! (Groucho Marx will do.)

I have a cold. A sore throat, runny nose, sneezing all the time kind of cold. My nose is chapped from the incessant Kleenex violations and is thus a vibrant red. When the violators are not violating, I make sniffy sounds followed up by a sad sigh. My sneezes stem from a place deep inside of me, ripping forth with such volatility that my throat explodes and sometimes I fall down.
At night, while trying to sleep, my nose emits a high pitched whistle that wakes me up in a terror about who is standing over my bed wielding the baseball bat I keep next to my nightstand for such cases where I might need to defend myself from the bandits as the one perceived to be standing over my bed, whistling a high pitched whistley death call, and wielding my very own weapon. It turns out to be Century Bob, and he does not even have arms, so he ain’t wielding nothing. The whistle is being produced by me. Having a cold forces on me some really bizarre dreams, and I wake up in a panic at 2:13 am every night.
I can’t breathe very well, and despite the constant flow of snot, my nasal passages are excruciatingly dry. (Sniff). I say a lot of things to myself while laden with a cold like, “sigh”, and “Poor me”, and “I am soooo sick!”.
My chest is on fire. I try to douse the flames by drinking a lot of water, but they are reignited by the vicious and violent sneezes that contort me into shapes Cirque du Soleil would be impressed by.
I have a cold. I think I may be dying. I am sicker than anyone else in the whole world has ever been. And I am not just saying that because I am feeling so sorry for myself. (Sniff).

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

John Kerry! Don't make me like you.

"Attacking Patrick Murphy for his [military] service is a little bit like Jessica Simpson attacking Albert Einstein's IQ," Kerry told an audience in Philly in defense of a Democratic House candidate there.

(Now that's funny. But he did not even need to go as high in intellect as Einstein. He could have picked a guy with a kind of high IQ and it would still have been the same.)