IV. This Getting Sick Business Sucks....
It was going to be one of those Saturday nights that you feed off of your entire life. The kind of night that makes you feel ALIVE. The night when you take home the most beautiful girl in the bar and make sweet love to her until she says "I'm gonna be sick" and knocks you off the bed to throw up into your wicker wastebasket.
So around noon on Saturday, I am on my way to Target to buy some body glitter, when I notice a vague feeling of hollow irritation in my sinus cavity. Nothing a few shots of Rumplemintz won't cure, I think, laughing to myself like a frat boy on the verge of a high five. I crank up the 80s ballads on my Ipod and sing loudly with the words "every rose has its thorn..."
After I get home, I break open my new Norelco and manscape my chest, making it real nice for the ladies. Then I sneeze. I try on four or five shirtsuntil I find the one that doesn't make me look like I am the guy who tries on four or five shirts. Perfect. So I lick my fingers, smooth my brow and slap my ass. "I am going to be the hit of the club tonight," I say. I give myself the guns in the mirror as a dollop of phlegm falls onto the back of my tongue. I cough. Oh no. Can't get sick.
"I'll just lie down for a few hours," I think. "I'll still have plenty of time to spike my hair and peg my pants."
Ten o'clock rolls around. I am under the covers shivering like a Chihuahua inside the dankness of Bill O'Reilly's heart. My whole body is aching, and I frequently disturb the peace with cries for Auntie Em.
For the next two days, I stay in bed, unable to move, praying to every known God to NOT let me die before I have a chance to hide the porn. I try to pass the time by performing mind exercises. After trying to remember all the friends I've betrayed – in alphabetical order – I quickly switch to trying to remember my ABCs.
Then, finally, on Tuesday, my fever breaks, and I begin to feel better. I know it is close to the end when Abe Lincoln and Anakin Skywalker show up bedside. I ask them if it's over, but they just stand there with big forced smiles and continuously wave like a couple of grinning dumb asses.
Exactly how I would have looked if I had actually made it to the bar.
So around noon on Saturday, I am on my way to Target to buy some body glitter, when I notice a vague feeling of hollow irritation in my sinus cavity. Nothing a few shots of Rumplemintz won't cure, I think, laughing to myself like a frat boy on the verge of a high five. I crank up the 80s ballads on my Ipod and sing loudly with the words "every rose has its thorn..."
After I get home, I break open my new Norelco and manscape my chest, making it real nice for the ladies. Then I sneeze. I try on four or five shirtsuntil I find the one that doesn't make me look like I am the guy who tries on four or five shirts. Perfect. So I lick my fingers, smooth my brow and slap my ass. "I am going to be the hit of the club tonight," I say. I give myself the guns in the mirror as a dollop of phlegm falls onto the back of my tongue. I cough. Oh no. Can't get sick.
"I'll just lie down for a few hours," I think. "I'll still have plenty of time to spike my hair and peg my pants."
Ten o'clock rolls around. I am under the covers shivering like a Chihuahua inside the dankness of Bill O'Reilly's heart. My whole body is aching, and I frequently disturb the peace with cries for Auntie Em.
For the next two days, I stay in bed, unable to move, praying to every known God to NOT let me die before I have a chance to hide the porn. I try to pass the time by performing mind exercises. After trying to remember all the friends I've betrayed – in alphabetical order – I quickly switch to trying to remember my ABCs.
Then, finally, on Tuesday, my fever breaks, and I begin to feel better. I know it is close to the end when Abe Lincoln and Anakin Skywalker show up bedside. I ask them if it's over, but they just stand there with big forced smiles and continuously wave like a couple of grinning dumb asses.
Exactly how I would have looked if I had actually made it to the bar.
posted by Clubber Lang at 10:29 PM
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