Mother Fuck!

I absolutely had to take a sick day today because I was up with the chills all night. When I would finally wrap myself in enough blankets and such to fight the freezing cold running through my body, I'd break out into a sweat.

I actually started to choke on my own stink.

Around noon, I finally had the strength to get dressed and seek medical attention. Turns out Tuesday is street sweeping, so there was a $45 ticket waiting for me on my windshield.

That got my blood boiling.

When I made it down to the free clinic, the lovely lady at the front desk politely told me that -- because I have insurance -- I don't qualify to receive care there. I'm not being sarcastic; she was actually really super sweet about everything.

Since she was about the only person I haven't wanted to kill in the past 48 hours just for looking at me (I'm homicidal when ill), I asked for help. I told her I'd called my doctor's office to make an appointment yesterday, but they can't get me in until next week.

I'll be dead by then.

She explained that all I needed to do was call my health care provider and get to an urgent care facility.

So I did. Urgent care is right around the corner on Wilshire. They're open after-hours, starting at 5:30.

Mother fuck!

It was really awesome of my doctor's office to let me know that when I called, so I could have gone yesterday after work, instead of waiting another day.

If I die, I want the entire world to know how much I hate...everything. Except the lady at the free clinic. She was hot.

Kill Me Now

I'm sick again.

I blame it on the news room bitches. They're always passing stuff around.

Oh, how I hate them.

Down with the Sickness

Dear God, kill me now.

I hate being sick. Even more so, I hate having to call into work sick. It makes me feel like a big pussy. Still, I have a rule: don't go anywhere with a fever.

But the biggest problem of all? Being sick is like totally boring. I don't have the energy to do anything productive, yet lying around for hours on end gets really old. There's nothing good on TV, I've already text messaged everyone I know and there are only so many times you can masturbate in a day.

This is where having a web site never fails me. I can lie in bed and amuse myself thusly. However I warn against taking pictures of yourself when you're sick. Even if you're as cute as me, you're still going to look like complete shit and the proof is above!

I need soup, crackers and 7up -- a classic homespun remedy that magically makes everything all better. I'm pretty sure it can cure cancer.