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After just about hocking the snot-hydrant/lung-oyster plague out of my feeble system, you know, the one that's been ripping me a coupla fresh new ones every day for weeks, I've been inexplicably stricken with the goddamn flu. What the shit, immune system?!!
Friday night my puny muscles started feeling all achy, and I just chalked it up to the crunches I've started doing at night, to rid my puny frame of the spare tire that suddenly morphed into existence at age 43 -- okay, it's more like one of those mini-wheel spare tires --something you might find in the trunk of a Hyundai Accent.
Anywhich, I woke up Saturday morning all dizzy and shit and I had a fever. And that was it -- down for the fucking count all weekend and today, and if this fever doesn't break soon, tomorrow, too. Guess it's official -- my parents bought the 42 year warranty and it officially expired this past March. Oh well -- it was a good run, ol' paint.
Oh, and have I mentioned that I haven't squeezed out a Lincoln in, like, two days?! I'm so goddamn dehydrated that my colon's like a toboggan run in the middle of August. I'm tellin' ya, the system is shutting down, and I'm not sure a reboot is in the cards.
And the poor Old Lady -- it was just her and the spawnage all fucking weekend as I lay comatose in my fever-induced funkage. Not really sure what all they did. I know that she did take them to see "Kung Fu Panda" in Lansing, yesterday, at the exact moment when a tornado was spotted... in Lansing. I guess everything turned out okay -- they came back. All I know is that once my Boola-Boola clears, I'm gonna be picking up a shitload of the slack. Which I will do readily, if'n I can punt this pandemic.
Fuck it, I'm going to sleep. Again. My bedsores are exhausted.
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