thursday morning ramblings.

last night, honey pot took a stern tone with me to "order" me to go to the local urgent care facility here in florence. i hemmed and hawed, as i hate going to those places. somewhere in the back of my mind, i think that the reason the doctors that work in these doc-in-the-box places either failed med school, are a con artist, a doctor who got fired from some super esteemed medical facility, a doctor who is being slapped with a punishment from the medical licensing board, or one of those "self sacrificing" people who is single handedly trying to save the world from one thing or another.


either way, my lil brother accompanied me to help me talk since i was having technical difficulties doing so. my symptoms were so bad that they were semi-reminiscent of my migraine days; my vision was not at its top peak, as the light hurt my eyes, and i found it difficult to formulate sentences. i got antibiotics, nasal spray, and a mild pain killer. they tested me for swine flue, but upon my rectal examination, they found no corkscrew tail. ;-)











during my appointment, the nurse asked if he was my son. this is the second time this has happened this weekend. what is this fuckery?! my bob. i'm 27, he's two months shy of being 14. ohmystars. i would have been 14 when i had him. no ma'am, that didn't occur. not.at.all. am i looking that old? that hagard? that jaded? what is the universe doing? fucking with me because my biological clock is madly ticking? thanks. thanks a lot, asshole.


drastically changing the subject here,... but i just read that ellen is replacing paula 'abdrool' on american idol. interesting replacement. very interesting. but i guess we shall see how this equasion factors out.

:-(

i wish i could say, "well its another day in the neighborhood, the sun is out, and i'm smiling, farting, and merrily skipping along the way," but i can't. why is that? because i am STILL sick. sinusitis with asthmatic bronchitis is a fucker. a nasty fucker. nastier, meaner, and uglier than my bio-dad ever was. (and that says a lot considering he was the catalyst for all things poisonous, evil, vile, putrid, destructive, and down right heinous.) i am grumpy. so grumpy, in fact, that my eyebrows have taken a step down and are now permanently in the grouchy position. apparently they like their recent move. something about the rent being cheaper or something another. damn betches.


i returned to my abode today, where the wife welcomed me with sarcastic remarks, hugs, and wubs. the children all cuddled up to her, and it felt like i was home again. its MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH better than what was last night. even though i was at my second residence, aka my mama's, in my bed in my room, i was home. but i digress, the boys stayed up late last night playing whatever suped up version of super nintendo they play these days. (idk if its the xbox or ps2 or whatever and personally couldn't give a fart less about it either.) they didn't have school today because they had to leave to go out of town to the beach with members of my extended family for this holiday weekend. i was up on my sister's laptop playing online, lying in my bed with one dog in my belly and another under my arse. (its a single trundle bed so it was a TIIIIIIIIGHT fit.) because i am the sickest of us three sick cildren, i am the one who has not been able to sleep. i can't lie down, it aggravates the bronchitis, but i cant sit up and sleep. its truly a no-win situation. so around 4 am i made them turn off the damn nintendo thingy-majiggy they were playing, i closed the laptop, and lied down with mah two furbabies. i FINALLY found a position that my lungs and nose could agree on to allow me to lie down, breathe through one nostril, and go to sleep. ppppPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPraise jeebus!! what comes next? two words: EPIC FAIL.


so it seems, brother boy (hehe), E, was searching for something on the makeshift bedside table between our two beds. what was on that table? a rather LARGE cup FILLED COMPLETELY with water. pause for a brief moment: remember my stating that the kids in my family were genetically cursed klutzes? further proof of this theory isssssssss.... i got a FULL cup of water in my face, up my nose, in my lungs, ..... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand my cell phone got SOAKED. yeah. there went all hope for getting any kind of decent sleep. we wound up sleeping in the living room because of one soaking wet bed, and karma decided to kick his ass in return for his masterfully executed epic fail... his bronchitis/asthma got riled up BIG TIME and he had to take a breathing treatment. i was able to slept hard as a rock from 5 am until 10 am. that's the MOST sleep i've gotten since this past sunday night.



my grumpy sick ass is going on. i have to get a few things done then i am collapsing and not doing a DAMN thing. please be very safe this weekend and take extra precautions in using your better judgment about any celebratory festivities and driving afterward. please have a designated driver. have fun!!

slightly.

"the only time i see you is when i need antibiotics for these stupid sinus infections," i said, very agitated. talking was hard to do. it was hard to hear if the words were exiting my mouth the way i was thinking them in my head. the relentless static in my head had become deafening, by this point. i'm not sure static is the correct adjective here, though. the best adequate description of the reverberating noise inside the walls of my skull were like that of a washing machine cleaning a full load, with its top open. you know; that whirling, round and round sound? yeah, that's the one.

he takes a deep sigh and turns his head to my chart, flipping through the pages. "Dr. Daryn Stephans," as i'll call him for bloggosphere purposes, can't be 35, at the maximum. definately the anally retentive, type A, most likely OCD, nerd type of guy. he always has this perpetual look of grimace on his face. i have my theories on this: his wife probably irons and starches his underwear. maybe that's why he always has that strange look on his face, because she put too much starch on it and its digging a hole into his butt cheek. OR, she forgot to starch the pair he has on that day (that he conveniently wears EVERY TIME i see him), so he has the look on his face because he has a wedgy that'd make an elephant cry. OR finally, maybe the old prude just has to fart? i don't know. either way, he gave me my antibiotics and pain killers, then hooked me up with an allergist up in columbia.


the package of instructions that arrived in the mail, from the allergist's office was clear on one very specific thing; NO anti-histamines for 7 days prior to the appointment. jesus. that's denying crack from your neighborhood toothless crack whore. its cruel, is what it is. cruel and unusual punishment. denny crane and alan shore, hello? supreme court, part tres!!

the day of my appointment rolls around, and somehow by the grace of the stars above, between the anti-biotics and pain meds, it kept any sinus headaches at bay. honey and i get back into the little room they stashed me away in. and in walks the doctor.
okay. stop. you know those people who have perfect teeth? perfectly straight and perfectly white... they glisten with perfection? they dazzle me. seriously. i even once had a teacher who had these teeth, and i could barely pay attention to her lectures, because her teeth mesmerized me. like a damn spell, it had me from hello. anyways, back to my mister allergy doctor. picture this; perfectly combed hair, perfectly pressed outfit, beautiful teeth, and gay man lips. yes i said it; gay man lips. think angelina's lips made for a man. there ya go, folks. that's one of my secret obsessions. gay man lips who have perfect teeth. its like the lips are perfectly fit for the teeth, the way they blanket them, like the waves to the shore.

is there any doubt as to why i'm currently in therapy? no. i didn't think so.
back to mister gay doctor man. he said i had to have skin tests run to see exactly what it is that i'm allergic to. after the nurse drew a chart on my back, i felt like my back looked like that connect the dots game. she scratched some stuff onto my back, and honey and i sat there for a few minutes passing both gas and time. then came time to run the skin tests on my arm. HOLY. MARY. MOTHER. OF. GOD. JESUS, WHO ART IN HEAVEN. she made her way around to the back of my arm with her little connect the dots chart, and i swear, the needles going into that arm fat. holy shit does NOT describe my sentiments at that very moment.

turns out that all of that torture was in vain, as i "only had a slight reaction to dust mites." slight. a slight reaction. let me make you feel what it feels like to be slightly keeled over in throbbing groin pains. slightly.

after that catastrophe has subsided, i get a voice mail stating that mister gay doctor man has found something after re-evaluating my files and needs me to return so he can speak with me. fine, asshole. i'll return.
but bring the needles out, and then you'll see a mister gay doctor man with one less testicle. slightly, that is. just slightly.

fall unto me.

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
~John Donne

the most horrid, foul, stinkiest, smelly smell of all smells was unleashed onto our back porch. and. it. won't. go. away. seriously, its putrid. i imagine its worse than sticking your head up an elephant's ass, or my Mama's dear gut farts. holy hell, this shit STINKS. everytime i get a whiff, i puke a little in my mouth.it smeels like a walking, talking puss pore vomited everywhere.

honey and i have been hit hard with some sort of nasty sickness crud. great buddha, it was MISERABLE at its finest. intermitten fever, glorious pressure in the head, sore throats, coughing, and just general aching all over. cramming vick's vapor rub up your nostrils, while sucking the mucus to the back of your throat, and trying to find a suitable position so that your head is semi-up and semi-down so you can breathe, all the while trying to loosen and relax your mind and body enough to get some sleep. yea. fat chance in hell. a hell that is you sitting on the shitter, knees drawn up with your feet off the floor, hands gripping the sides of the lid for dear life, beads of sweat falling into your eyes, while simultaneously holding back a sneeze so everything that you're...expelling...doesn't clog up the damn toilet or make it explode on your ass, literally.

i am loving this cooler weather. thank buddha its here, because we needed the relief from the heat. the house is coming along. most of the siding is completed. i think the majority of the plumbing and electrical is mostly completed, as well. yay!!

i've been having odd dreams as of late. some serious heavy symbolism goin on. and i haven't the foggiest on what they mean either. i can see where some say that your dreams are your subconscious' voice. but what i want to know is, how does your subconscious know what symbols mean what? for example, let's say, you dreamt that you placed a stinkbomb somewhere in public, just to see peoples' reactions. what does that mean? what if all it was, was that you farted in your sleep and it really stunk? i mean, ya know?


my honey's birthday will soon arrive, so i am pondering that. she will say, don't worry about it, or something to that effect. shit on that. in my family, birthdays were a big deal. it was YOUR day. you get one whole day out of the year just for you. your celebration. but my honey's family works differently than mine, as do all families differ from one to the next. but that's okay. we will make our own traditions.

today i saw this odd looking flower that i've never seen before in my entire existence. after a bit of googling, i discovered my honey was right; it is indeed a spider lilly. it is strangely beautiful, standing alone in a field. a strange beauty all alone. maybe its because i'm sick at the moment, but that touches me deep in my soul. strange.
i just looked it up again, and as it turns out, the spider lilly contains galanthamine, which is a natural herb to induce more vivid, intense dreams. fucking freaky as shit, man. so like, this flower pops up, unbeknownst to me, we get sick, and i have reallllllllly vivid dreams. freaky, man. freaky.


anyways,... i'm out like clay gayken. peace out, bitches.