Pulling back my snot into my brain.
And then sucking it all back down my throat. I think it’s so dang hot. But what else am I supposed to do? I am dying over here. I feel like death. Although I have no idea what death feels like, I’m sure this is it. I can’t swallow. My head is going to explode, and I want to blow my brains out. Not really, I don’t really want to blow them out…I want to blow my snot out into a Kleenex. Uhhhhhhhh. I am so sick. And I swear it’s all my niece’s fault. She was SO sick this past weekend. But I just love her. And I want to be close to her, all up in her shit. We lay on top of each other when we’re together. And my sister warned me. She told me to stay away from her! But I just can’t! I need to be near her. We lay in bed for days, talking…and laughing. We share coffee drinks. And lip gloss. Oh, did I mention Blair is eleven? She is a mini-me. A diva if you will. And I ADORE every bit of her. She is a dancer. And when she dances, I cry. I do. Tears. She should be mine, but she is my sister’s. I have no idea how it happened, but she belongs to Julie. I love my Blair, every cell in her body.
But now, as I’m laying here…on my death bed, I want to kick her little-diva-ass. But the world doesn’t stop for a cold. It’s just a cold. A snotty, stuffy…crappy-feeling cold. So, I need to rally. I have shit to do. Did you know I have a Bar Mitzvah coming up? I think I may have mentioned it? The party is in a week. It is seriously a week from Friday, and I have no time to be sick. Give me the Zicam. Have y’all ever used this crap? You let it dissolve in your mouth every 3 hours until you start to feel better. Great, right? Except it tastes like fucking fizzy-battery acid. And it numbs your entire mouth, and freezes your tongue. And if that’s not bad enough, it makes your taste buds not taste. I want to puke. Wait just a minute….
What if I take it every hour? And I drop a few lbs? YES. Best idea ever. I won’t want to eat anything because my mouth is all funky! And I can eat carbs again, yes! I am a genius. Hold on, I’m going to get a Zicam…who cares if I can’t eat. And I will get better, too. Ok, back. My mouth feels like I licked an ashtray, it’s actually fuzzy. But I can feel my waistline getting smaller. Which is good news, because after I got that IUD installed last month…I have totally porked up. I am going to get it ripped out next week. I shit you not. I’m calling up Dr. Adorable, and telling him a thing or two about a thing or two. IUD = FATASS. End of story. And I do feel lied to… a little deceived, if you will. My doc told me I would never gain weight from it. Well, I’m sorry, but have y’all seen my tits lately? HUGE. I can’t even fit them into my dress for the party. And although, Mr. T loves the new hormonally enhanced jugs, I hate them. Even Tammy noticed them. She was staring at them, and I was like… I know! They are fucking insane! She agreed.
Anyway, enough of this. I have a lot to do. I must get healthy. I must get skinny. And I must get my shit together. In one week, I have a Bar Mitzvah to control. Oh, I mean, host. Host. I have a party to host. Right. I just hate when my fingers say such silly things. ;)