It's not the bowel-shredding Clench or anything, but it's certainly making me feel cranky (or as Katherine at work put it, "Your elbows are sharp today.") and gross and somewhat weakish, but not so weak that I couldn't fend off my own body weight in midgets or something. It is also why, for the last few nights, instead of regaling y'all with tales of watching roller derby with Gemma and Jaime during our flash-blizzard on Saturday (sexy ladies on wheels + high speed collisions = Awesome City), or explaining why I only took one picture at the Comic Con (most of the guys' costumes were ho-hum, while most of the girls' costumes made me feel like I was a creepy old man for looking at them, but I bought Hazel a brand new Stuffed Bunny which she lurves so everything's okay), I've been staring at a blank computer screen with a head full of fuzz trying to figure out how to spell the word 'THE'.
Get off my back; it's tricky, gawdammit.
What this means is that my internet cleverness must wait for a while, so's I can wrap myself up in a blanket and use my formidable powers of Hate and Spite and General Surliness to defeat this sickness. Before I do that, though, I will succumb to Gemma's persuasive ways and say:
3. I'm still kinda confused about what exactly Va-Jazzling is all about, but if I had a vagina to be va-jazzled, I really wouldn't want any of these people touching me down there.
Now I must go curl up into a shivering ball on the couch, watching playoff highlights and wondering what the male equivalent of Va-Jazzling might be. The best I can come up with in my unwell state is either Knob Polishing or Testicle Buffing, so I'd better just stop this right now before people start getting hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment