26 July 2005

I'm sick, but you knew that already.

Gack. This cold virus has handed me my arse. Literally. It came up to me and said “Excuse me Sir, are these you buttocks?”

“Gnnf, sknifff, chang-GOOO!” I replied. “Gsnnff”. I am the snot monster.

“Riiiight, I’ll just put them over here then”. It picked up a magazine and flopped down on the couch. It seemed in no hurry to leave.

I asked my MD what I should do to get rid of the cold virus, and he suggested that I drink plenty of juice and clear liquids.

Vodka is a clear liquid.

I took the Doc’s advice and after 3 hours the cold virus is still here, but it’s far less annoying.

“Hey, did I tellsh you about the tchime I was in Pamela Andershon’s chest?” It asked in a cheerily conspiratorial tone.

“Chngfff!” I replied encouragingly. Chngfff, indeed.

Update: ALL HAIL ETHANOL! While the cold virus hasn't left yet, it is still unconcious. When it does wake up, I expect lots of wincing and moaning. Lightweight.

And that's the way I likes it.