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May. 17th, 2002 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chaobellDon't ask me why, but Bowman wakes up hellaciously every time I get sick. Moo suggested that perhaps it's because he wants to take care of me. Actually, it's more like him bitching and coughing and sniffling and grumbling about it.
I fucking hate being sick. Doesn't happen all that often--once a year, maybe twice, not counting shit like allergies and drinking too much. This doesn't make it suck any less.
Sometimes I can ignore it. Y'know, pretend it's not there till it gets bored and finds someone else to screw with. And sometimes it works really well. Sometimes it works for a day or two. And sometimes, like right now, it doesn't fucking work at all.
I can't smoke. I can't run. I can eat--thank all that's right and good it's not one of those bugs--but everything tastes like cardboard. I can't sleep. I can't smoke. I can't put enough clothes on to get warm. I can't talk all that damn well, and don't think I don't hear you assholes snickering at me when I croak at you.
DID I MENTION THAT I CAN'T FUCKING SMOKE!?
...I'm going to do myself and the rest of the world a favor, go back to my room, have a shot of whiskey with a spoonful of honey and a squirt of lemon juice in it, and go pass the hell out.
I fucking hate being sick. Doesn't happen all that often--once a year, maybe twice, not counting shit like allergies and drinking too much. This doesn't make it suck any less.
Sometimes I can ignore it. Y'know, pretend it's not there till it gets bored and finds someone else to screw with. And sometimes it works really well. Sometimes it works for a day or two. And sometimes, like right now, it doesn't fucking work at all.
I can't smoke. I can't run. I can eat--thank all that's right and good it's not one of those bugs--but everything tastes like cardboard. I can't sleep. I can't smoke. I can't put enough clothes on to get warm. I can't talk all that damn well, and don't think I don't hear you assholes snickering at me when I croak at you.
DID I MENTION THAT I CAN'T FUCKING SMOKE!?
...I'm going to do myself and the rest of the world a favor, go back to my room, have a shot of whiskey with a spoonful of honey and a squirt of lemon juice in it, and go pass the hell out.
