This week has been an epic, dismal failure on many fronts. Thus, for purposes of this post, I rechristen my blog a blahhhhg.
With extra helpings of blah.
I’m sick. In a fun, feverish, blah-kind-of-way. Thankfully, my momma's great. She demanded I come home when illness first reared its ugly, strepto-staphylo-infested head. (In my defense, I was planning a trip home to see the parentals anyways. Honestly.)
Okay. Initial trip to my friendly campus quack-shack (university health center) lead to a vague diagnoses (actually, I’m really not sure if I was given one, but with my mental acuity at the time, I probably wouldn't have remembered it anyways) and a prescription for pills that likely could have choked an bull elephant. And were a bright, obnoxious pink to boot.
This was on Tuesday. You can bet I started those badboys with the gusto generally reserved only for chocolate products.
Wednesday rolled around and I suspected I might live after all. I again had a zest for life: I moved from my bed to the couch.
Thursday happened and I felt like a million bucks. Okay, so that’s an exaggeration. I felt like twenty bucks, but that’s a far cry in the way of improvement from my previously negative balance.
Thursday.5. Mysterious, full-body rash. I know, I know…SEXAH. Madre wigs out. She makes (I wasn't consulted on the matter) me an appointment with her doctor. We have several brief but intense arguments over the pink-elephant-pill continuation. She says stop. I say pshhh no moms, you be crazzzze*. I’m finally starting to feel better. So what if I look like a diseased tomato with straw for hair because I haven’t brushed it since the advent of Pill 1. So, like, dc!
Moving on.
Friday. Doctor. (yay.) He takes one look at me and gives three possible causes, two of which passed for interesting in my fevered-congestion-aching-head. They were:
Bad reaction to the meds. [Snores] Level on interest scale**: -100.
Mono—when a dying soul has mono and takes this certain antibiotic, they get splotchy. I was game for this diagnosis: I could blame the so-called ‘kissing-disease***’ on the BF. (I always knew those darn boys had cooties, Microbiology or not.) Level on interest scale: +5. (Mainly because I could blame BF for all my troubles. He loves that.)
The last option was fascinating: scarletina. That’s Scarlet Fever, folks. How cool**** is that? It’s rarely (like hardly, hardly, hardly ever) fatal these days, but people still shudder when then hear the name. I love a good shock factor. Level on interest scale: +11. Archaic sickness, I think so.
Two lab tests later, I feel like I’m on a game show (one where there's no free oxygen in the room), waiting to hear if I get the prize behind the sure-to-be-the-winning door I picked.
[Drumroll]
…
Damn allergic reaction. Hello no-fun-story-to-tell plus a -100 interest rating.
Today: New pills. Feeling...meh. I believe I will survive. To pass the time, I’ve taken to divining the flavor of my Halls citrus cough drops without unwrapping them. It’s quite a challenge, requiring the perfect combination of lighting and non-watery-eyed vision. I could really use a pair of jewelers’ glasses, or whatever they’re called. Here’s what my discernment has led to thus far:
The pile on the left is considered safe. (Read: Orange.) The middle is a sketchy grapefruit flavor, which will do in a pinch but is inherently less desirable than orange. The farthest right is a septic pool of lemon-flavored atrocity. *Shudders* I think they’re burning a hole and oozing through my mom’s mesquite coffee table. They’re an abomination. I think Voldemort created them. Maybe they're little bits of his soul. HARRYYOUMISSEDAHORCRUX!!!! Game Plan: Avoid. At. All. Costs.
Every once in a while they get sneaky, but I am wayyy dedicated to my sorting quest.
They all have captions on the wrappers. I tried to get a picture of couple of them, but they all turned out stinking blurry. But I'm noticing something--the lemons all have the most enthusiastic sayings, such as "Conquer Today!" or "Get Back in the Game!" which makes me think of a cheesy junior-high sports movie. Probably the strategy--get you so pumped you mistakenly eat one of the little bastards.
Oh how you try, you snaringly captioned little drops of poison. No matter your tactics, I shall not be fooled.
oye.
*Antibiotic resistance is bad, peeps. Always finish ALL the antibiotics that your doctorperson prescribes. Srsly. *Is glad something semi-intelligent came of this ramble.*
** For practical purposes, the Interest Scale ranges from -100 to +10.
***’Kissing disease’ is a misnomer. But BF doesn’t know that.
**** I’ll be the first to admit my nerdiness. It’s my blahhhg today and I’m running with it.
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