Actually, it IS Rocket Science



Ew

Woke up Thursday morning and poured myself a big ol’ cup of coffee.  I liked that cup so much I made myself another.

Three cups later and a feeling of extreeeeme caffeine jitters, I realized a little too late that I really blew it.  I’ve gotten the jittery-doo’s before, but this was like, coffee-hangover.  My stomach was actually upset.  So I posted a plea to facebook for someone to offer me something, anything of a suggestion to try and get past it.  Unfortunately the resounding answer was what I suspected would be my only option, which would be to down a crapload of water to flush out the caffeine overload.  I literally would have tried anything if I thought it would help.  A couple of friends responded with some inventive thoughts and ideas, but tough luck, you guys, you can pull a lot of shit over on me, but even I know heroin won’t help. …that much.

Then I started noticing some other traits that seemed a little extreeeeme to even make an extreeeeeeme coffee hangover seem odd.  Like, I noticed that I was looking a little… swollen.  Especially around the eyes.  And my a/c had suddenly dipped the apartment temperature down into arctic chill, even though I hadn’t touched the thermostat and I was getting the teeth chatters at 77 degrees.

And I think we all know where this is headed.

But I just kept filling up my glass with water after water until my stomach became distended.  And thought maybe if I ate something with protein I’d feel better.  So I thought, of all things, that a tuna salad would be my best bet.  A stanky, gnarly tuna salad.  Disregarding the fact that as soon as I opened the can, the aroma made my stomach do a full 3-ring circus acrobatic act.

Because this is how stubborn I am.  I actually try to will myself out of getting sick.  I go around acting like everything is fine on the outside when inside something is a’brewin… something evil. And sure enough, before long, the bathroom was where I was headed to spend the duration of my afternoon.  Oh.  And the majority of that night.  Oh yeah, and the majority of Friday. … partially Saturday.

Good lord, you guys.  It’s been so long since I’ve been this sick.  I think I actually forgot how bad it sucks.  And it’s only exasperated by the fact that when it set in, you know, when it was at the most absolute worst time out of “being sick,” I was wired from all the caffeine that was absorbed into my system that even after my stomach voided its contents in the totally opposite direction of where it’s supposed to head, I was incapable of actual sleep.  It was like A Clockwork Orange.  All I wanted to do was hibernate through the period of being sick, but my eyes were being peeled open against my will.  How shitty is that?

So I became a hermit and hid out like a sewer creature in my own apartment.  Because I was too weak and taking a shower would require me to lift the 70+ lbs off of my head and drag my paralyzed and atrophied limbs to the shower.  There’s a huge lip on the shower which is supposed to make the whole thing into some kind of bathtub or some shit, but at that point it was only the equivalent of scaling a glass wall without a harness or even suction cups.  Go pee on a biday, shower.  I’m onto your antics.  I’m gonna chill out here on my nice, sweat-bogged blanket.

But then something… happened.  Something miraculous.  Because at that point I was so far down in the 6th circle of Dante’s hell that I was faaaaaiiiiirrly certain I was doomed for all eternity.  You know that feeling.  You kind of say give up on everything; goodbye to sleeping and waking up, goodbye to hot baths, goodbye to clocks ticking… and Mama’s sunflowers,  goodbye to boomboxes, seatbelts, and unlimited breadsticks and salads. When I woke up and suddenly realized that my body wasn’t shaking anymore and the pedialyte that I had ingested had stayed down overnight.  So I was like, YEAH.  Go have someone piledrive you and read 30 Doosenbury comics,  (No.  Seriously.  Comics were made for children to sit on their parents laps and have their parents read them to them in effort to learn comedic arc and for you to get some kind of solitude from dealing with the rest of the bullshit on E1 or B4).   Hey, Sickness, how bout I fly over you and poop on your directly upturned face from a very high location so that you get splattered with my anger and resentment that you made me delusional enough to legitimately think that I was dead.

Then take a picture of it on my cell phone and send it to all your exes and greatest enemies.  And your boyfriend/girlfriend.

Try turning that into a Foxtrot episode.

So I’m back.  I’m sorry for being MIA.  But you would too if you thought that you were stuck in some kind of hellacious mountain of feverish rage.

meanwhile, in lieu of a Sunday comic, how about this (And if you don’t get it, it only means that you actually HAVE a life.  Congratulations.)

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Comments

  1. * Yo Mama says:

    I am sorry that you were so sick! I hate that. But glad you are getting better daily!

    This game is the pitts…. but I got to 3 meters!

    | Reply Posted 5 years, 10 months ago
  2. * Ben says:

    What the ever lovin’ crap is that video about?

    | Reply Posted 5 years, 10 months ago
    • You have to click the link above it. It’s the hardest game on the internet- like, officially. The mayor of the innernetz gave it the official title and everything.

      | Reply Posted 5 years, 10 months ago
  3. * Toups says:

    QWOP is the best

    | Reply Posted 5 years, 10 months ago


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