So I’m still not “me”. Last night for a couple of hours I think I was Janet Wood (you know her as Chrissy’s cherubic mop-top sidekick on “Three’s Company”). Or maybe Arnold Horshack (we all know who he is). Not the actors, but the actual characters. Neither was much fun, but I did get to see myself in crotch-huggin’, ass-grabbin’ bellbottom jeans, which is always a bonus. And an ugly gauze top.
But I won’t run on and on about my SICKNESS. There’s nothing quite as uninteresting to other people as the details of someone else’s pipsiblinkomonophlebromonstritis.
What I will say is this: How am I supposed to use the microwave or toaster oven now that the NyQuil label admonishes me against using machinery? Maybe I should have waited to take it until after I’d done my big cooking for the day.
Have a nice day, everyone. I’m off to hate Danielle Steel for ruining mine. If I had her phone number, I’d call her right now and have her come over and cook for me. It’d be the least she could do.
Note: The image above was lovingly provided by Mad Genius, who told me, “I had a vision of you drowning in a bottle of NyQuil.”