I need to know who the hell is spreading germs as if they were rays of sunshine!

I am sick AGAIN! I was healthy for about 3 days and some ignorant douche canoe shopper decided to sneeze and cough all over me. I was hoping for the best, "Oh, I'm sure my immune system is strong enough now to withstand those vile germs!" and then I got on my unicorn and landed on a rainbow. Wait, rainbows are real, right? Andy can't hear me so I can't confirm this information and I don't want to google it because then I'd have to move my hand and I'm tired and my nose is dripping.

The worst part? You know how people will sometimes call in to work faking they're sick? I have to do the opposite and fake being healthy so that I can go to work and not be judged by the bats. Don't worry, I'm being very cautious and I only sneeze, cough or blow my nose in the privacy of the bathroom. I come back to my desk all glassy-eyed and perky pretending I love my job. Hmmmmm that may be a giveaway.

Well, tomorrow is bagel day at the Asylum so instead of being home in my nice warm bed, I'll be sitting at my desk with an Asiago cheese bagel and a steaming cup of coffee. That's tomorrow. Tonight I will have a few shots of Nyquil.

Maybe it's not a good idea to write a post while running a high fever because I seem to have lost my censoring skills.

I'm not really here right now because I'm still on a brain mending vacation but I needed to enlighten all the womens out there, and some men too I guess, on the benefits of house work.

I have an App on my iPhone called "Lose It!". It asks for your body weight, what your goal weight is and how long you give yourself to reach your goal, then it tells you how many calories you should consume per day in order to meet your goal.

You enter the things you've eaten and it calculates calories, fat, protein etc.

You may also enter the amount of exercise you've had for the day and it guesstimates how many calories you've burned. Since I just started the App on Monday, and haven't joined a gym yet, I counted going to my side job last night for 3 hours (because I was doing some cleaning and heavy lifting) and scrubbing the tub when I got home as part of my exercise. To play it safe, I typed in ONE hour of "housework" instead of 3 and the App told me I had burned about 219 calories.

niiice!

As I was scrolling down to look at their other options for exercise, I saw Darts, Frisbee, Home Repair and a bunch of others but the one that caught my attention was "Sexual Activity".

Strictly out of curiosity, I clicked on it to see what it said.

First it asks you for the intensity "passive, light, kissing" "general, moderate" & "Active, vigorous".

So I tested "passive" and entered an hour-

ERH! ZERO calories burned!

I tried "general" and that gave us-

33 calories burned. Close but no cigar!

I tried "vigorous" and that gave us-

55 calories burned for one hour. Kinda whimpered out there at the end huh?

I'm wondering how they test these things. Do they account for solo acts?

Anyway! Burning 55 calories after some vigorous schtooping versus 219 from house work?

Listen, I'm not one to dismiss scientific data without some careful consideration. And also, we all know an hour of some slap and tickle is only possible in that island we'll call "Yeahrightland"! Perhaps I've said too much?

So the lesson of the day, ladies and gents, is: Stop wasting your time with the kooky nooky and do something productive like scrubbing a tub!

If you run out of things to clean in your home, shoot me an email and I'll let you come over and help me clean my house for free. You read that right, FOR FREE!

And now? The Nyquil awaits me!

Once upon a time there was a family of ugly globs living in my lungs...

 

It all started on Friday THE THIRTEENTH ooh spoooooky!

I came down with some bug. Last year I was rarely sick but it seems this year will be the year of the Funkyflus for me.

As you may or may not know, you simply cannot be sick while working at the Asylum. People immediately start shielding themselves from you and spraying every area you touch with bleachlike substances. While your hand is still touching the object! I don't know why they treat people like pariahs when they're ill. With the exception of OZ, it's not like we go out licking unsanitary hookers on purpose!

So, I decided to keep my illness (which I believe was passed on to me by that evil OZ!) on the down-low. Unfortunately for me, at the earliest sign of any illness, my voice is the first to go. Added to that, I have this creepy cough that I haven't been able to get rid of for over a month. That cough has irritated my throat and, I'm assuming because I am not a licensed professional, my vocal chords. So instead of my sweet HIGH PITCHED voice OF A NINE YEAR OLD, I sound like a 1920s hustler whose had too many cigarettes, booze and good times. The voice is a little less Mae West and a lot more Elmer Fudd-y. I will call this my alter ego and name her Lullibell. What the hell was I talking about? Oh right! I'm sick.

I went to work and as soon as I said something, everyone pounced on me.

"Are you sick?"
"Sounds like something's cookin'!"
"Your hair looks great!"

I told them I felt fine but I felt a little congested. Immediately Glynda told me to go home. Since I no longer have any more time off left in the season, I told her that I would go home if they paid me for the day. She stared at me blankly and said "No, but I don't want you to give it to us" and that's when I said "This is harassment!" no I actually told her that if she did not get it from kissing OZ's ass, then she wouldn't get it from me.

I struggled the whole day to appear healthy but once I got home that evening, my bravado evaporated. I sat on the sofa coughing and whimpering, waiting for Tom Cruise to come heal me. Bastard never showed.

I managed to run some errands on Saturday but on Sunday all I did was wallow in self pity, vowing to make the world a bitter place if I came out of this alive.

On Monday, I called in sick because I had trouble sleeping and I knew I would look like a zombie on meth and therefore be judged by the bats because even though looking like zombies on meth is their permanent look, it's unacceptable for me to come down with any illness. I decided to stay home and rest. I slept until 2pm. TWO PM! It was almost dinner time! I felt better, still a little cough-y but the headache and lightheadedness were gone.

Join me in the present day, Tuesday, where I'm driving to work and practicing my 'good mornings' because I don't want my voice to sound all scratchy when I greet Glynda.

First, I sounded like Lurch  "Good morning!" nope try again "GOOD MORNING!" that sounded like Jack McFarland on helium. Bring it down a few notches "Good morning!" now I'm Oscar the freaking Grouch! Good, I'm getting closer! I would be able to fool people into thinking I was 100% better and they wouldn't irritate me with their obnoxious insinuations of me infecting the whole office thereby taking years off their lives. I high fived myself in the rear view mirror and that's when I realized . . .

My life? Pathetic.

The *experience* of Nyquil

Nyquil? My Nyquil!

My droopy eyes shine brightly as I struggle with your childproof latch.

I curse the sadistic bastards who designed your container. They mock me!

I push down and turn the lid, nothing!

I blink until my watery gaze focuses on some random diagram...

I immediately notice their trickery!

After years of practice they have changed the rules!

Like all perverted heathens, their new dictum is "pinch and twist"!

Many attempts, and tears,  later, I successfully snap the top off and victoriously hold it up in the air, "In your faces, evil bottle manufacturers!"

My hand shakes, I pour 6 ounces of your emerald liquid into my tumbler.

Overdose? Maybe.

I breathe deeply of your intoxicating aroma, my sinuses clear.

The taste of your bitterness numbs my tongue, I gently swallow.

You coat my throat as you inch your way through my esophagus.

Warming my heart on your journey to my large intestine.

I feel a deep burning sensation as you mix with my stomach acid.

You slowly spread throughout my veins until coherent thought is abandoned...

MUSHROOMS!!

The drowsiness overcomes me instantly.

The need for sleep and a last trip to the bathroom battle inside me.

The fear of wetting the bed is too powerful.

I lumber through the hall, crashing into imaginary vases.

Your influence over me terrifying but... in a non threatening way.

A way that says you will cradle me with the same love a wino protects his last few ounces of Chablis.

As I make my way back to the safety of my bed, my ears start tingling.

Allergic reaction? Probably.

In the far distance, I hear the chimes of antique bells lulling me to sleep.

Hallucinating? Definitely.

My lids, heavy. My whispers, slurred. My drool, flowing freely.

Do you hear that?

Those are the labored snores of one who is blissfully medicated and dreaming of swimming in an emerald river.

Also available in cherry flavor.