Edi-turd's note: This is not a new list of band names. As the title suggests, it is a tasteless trip in to the rather flavorful mucus clogging my head. You'll need a strong stomach to proceed.It's been a while. . . sue me. Truth is, I ain't felt much like nothin'. A glob of green slime has taken-up residence in my frontal lobe, and try as I might, I ain't been able to evict it. It feels like someone took an ice pick and jammed it up my left nostril. A searing pain sort of radiates from there and encompasses what's left of my face.
The past week and a half I've washed down three Benedryl with a shot of Nyquill and drifted into a medically induced coma by 8:30, only to wake up around 1am and do it all again.
If we weren't so damn short at work, I would have called in sick days ago. But the holiday season brings on all manner of off-time, and those who are left have to pick up the slack. . .
Sorry, had to spit. Not even Crayola has a name for what just came out of me. Remember the old spin painters when we were kids? Imagine a dollop of blue, yellow, green and just a dab of red sitting on the center when you turned it on -- delicious.
Where was I? Picking up the slack . . .yes. I cough and wheeze my way through each day, wiping the fungus flowing from my nose on the sleeve of my station fleece . . . hell, I'd wipe it on a flaming yule log that would make it go away.
Outside ain't so bad. Something about the cool temps and the humid air seem to mollify the drip. But as soon as I hit the door my nasal passages leak all the way to my belt. I may just start wearing a bib like I put on my kids while they were teething. By the end of the day, my goatee is glazed.
At night, it's another Bene-quill cocktail or two.
It's a good thing I don't whine when I get sick, or the STW would have thrown my ass out a week and a half ago.