In case you did not take seven hours out of your day to read my comments yesterday, I have effing shingles.
Shingles!
When aluminum siding is so much less work.
The doctor gave me an antiviral medication, each of which is the size of a thigh-high boot, for heaven's sake, and I know Ima choke on it and I live here alone in case you forgot and eventually they will notice I didn't show up for work and someone will break in and I will be half eaten by dogs with an antiviral boot in my throat and shingles up my left side.
This is not how I wish to be remembered.
So that's what's going on with me. You get shingles from stress and/or being immunocompromised, so now I am apparently riddled with AIDS on top of everything else. I am the only person who never gets any sex yet gets riddled with AIDS. I guess I should stop going downtown and ripping the needles away from people and jabbing them into my neck.
Remember how I said I wanted a new hobby? Puppet shellacking was taken. Did you ever see that Brady Bunch episode when Marcia signed up for all the extracurricular activities that were remotely available at school? Is there actually anyone out there who did NOT see an episode of The Brady Bunch? Are you from America? Are you younger than 35 or older than 60?
My point is, what the hell was wrong with Marcia? Was she bipolar? Who gets that ambitious? And then how was it that she ended up with lava all over her? Didn't Peter have something to do with that? Was he in an extracurricular activity with her? Did he drag her back to Hawaii? Was he going to get revenge on that effing tarantua once and for all? You can't blame him.
I have to go. I know this was a meaningful post. I stayed up too late, as I was possibly kissing a tall boy in the windy rainy night last night. Because nothing says, "Come hither" like shingles.
Shingles, by Avon. Nothing says Come Hither like Shingles. Scratch the scent spot here to experience Shingles!
Okay. Obviously the virus has gone to my brain. Goodbye.
