I'd like to start by saying I've been sick for days which should explain why I've been behind on my postings. It should also explain why I’ve been late to work, dressed in rags, and balls deep in a bucket of carbs at any given moment. Sadly, it does not. Everything I just described is me on a daily basis. Nonetheless, there are certain happenings that indicate I’m suffering from a severe self-diagnosed illness. When I get sick, my brain shuts down. It’s one of my symptoms. I spend a lot of time diagnosing and treating myself when I’m under the weather. I like to listen to my body, attempt to decipher what it needs and then act accordingly. Today it wanted salt and pepper chips and some orange juice. Yesterday it demanded a fried chicken dinner. I'm not sure why my debilitated body requires these things but I'll be damned if I'm going to deny my fragile frame loads of salt and buckets of fat when that's clearly what it's calling for.
In addition to unreasonable food requirements, when ill, my body tends to hanker for medicine...obviously. Recently, I've been treating my self-proclaimed head cold with crystal meth and alcohol also known as Sudafed and NyQuil. I had to show an ID and give blood just to get my hands on that fucking Sudafed. I'd have an easier time getting an eight ball at a nursing home then I did trying to buy some God damn medicine. Ugh…I don't drink anymore but it's always nice to line up a few shots of NyQuil and reminisce about the good old days. Once a month I always get real excited because I get to take Midol. I usually just chop it up at my desk and snort it. Is that bad?
I've also been able to catch up on some TV which is quite a luxury for me. I don't have cable, or any working channels on my television for that matter, but I am privy to a DVD player which has dramatically changed my life. One of my friends introduced me to The Wire. Despite being a spoiled, white, Midwestern girl whose biggest problems growing up involved trying to find a ride to The Gap, I deeply empathize with the fine people of West Baltimore. I'm like 90% sure I'd be an awesome gang member. My gang colors would be a floral print.
Ultimately, being sick just gives me justified reason to do all the things I want to be doing all the time anyway. If I confess to having spent the last 5 nights eating macaroni and cheese, shot gunning Nyquil, not showering and refusing to answer the phone, I’m a fat asshole. If I maintain that all of this behavior was the result of a tumultuous ailment, all is forgiven. For the most part, the general public has yet to get on board with the majority of my remedies but it’s just a matter of time. In my mind, food, dormancy, and isolation are all elixirs to all diseases. I also contend that sex cures the common cold and while I’ve yet to find any willing participants, I will continue to hack, cough and wheeze my way into the arms of a lover. Doctor’s orders.