I'm sick.

I woke up last Tuesday with a sore throat, feeling a little low on energy. No big deal, I stayed up till 2am writing and playing the god forsaken hellspawn that is Freecell (I recently rediscovered it; it has plagued me before. (I'm also reading: "Eats, Shoots, and Leaves." How's my punctuation?)).

Wednesday morning I woke up with a more painful sore throat. Nose, not so stuffy, but I felt something hibernating in the center of my head. Going outside and doing things proved to be confusing and exhausting. I left my home for only 3 hours, but when I returned home, I wanted a full body massage and mineral bath.
Instead, I played Freecell for a little while, then remembered that doing that is an abysmal waste of time and played Starcraft instead.
Later that night, I went out to the grocery store and bought a bulb of garlic and a can of cream of chicken soup. And some Ho-Hos. I was craving them.
That night I crushed the whole bulb of garlic into the soup and heated it until it was warm, leaving the garlic mostly raw. It took me an hour to eat it, so I watched a movie while I did so; "In the Realms of the Unreal". I cried afterwards.

Thursday morning, I woke up, barely. I was quite definitely sick. The garlic I had consumed the night before had had the necessary effect; it made me smell really funky. I spent Thursday in a dizzy, woozy fog. I went to an art store and bought things. My nose dripped like a little kids, though I managed to keep from tasting boogers, except for what slid down the back of my throat from constant and painful snorting. That night, I watched a movie with a friend and drank two beers and smoked. Why did I do that? I got really dizzy because my ears clogged up like thick corks. I ate another bulb of garlic that night, but I accidentally cooked it until it was palatable because I was distracted by playing Freecell.

Friday I had to go to work. I bought Dayquil. It's changed. They removed the psuedoephedrine, and replaced it with phenylephrine. Sure, if you just glance at the active ingredients, it looks similar, but my beleaguered immune system knows the difference. It was nearly as assaulted and oppressed by chemical stimulants as I had hoped. Phenylephrine is a poor substitute for the crack-esque mania of psuedoephedrine. America is a country flushing down a sewer; freedom does not exist.

I think today is Saturday. I'm having trouble breathing and swallowing.
I'm getting better.
I told my supervisor that I had food poisoning today, asking to go home early. Then I felt bad and told him that the food I'd eaten hadn't poisoned me, but only tasted bad. Then I explained that I really was feeling quite ill, and that I'd like to go home 20 minutes early if I please please may; I feel like passing out. He let me go! That allowed me to spend the 20 minutes that I might have spent drearily rasping nearly obsolete questions and statements at people I'd rather not meet, typing this instead.

I'm going to go home now and play some Freecell.

There was a

device that existed to send messages. Two people had helped me to create it, and were now telling me that, in order for the messages to be effective, I had to put my heart into it.
I unbuttoned my shirt and opened the skin on my chest with my index finger. I pulled my heart out of my chest, a strange sensation, an emptiness opening inside of me; though it came out easily.
I placed my heart into the machine, and it began to work. We discussed the machine, and they showed me how it could be used.
After a while, I began to feel a numbness in my legs and arms. I realized it came from removing my heart from my body and felt concerned. I retrieved my heart from the machine and looked at it. I wasn't sure which way was up. I stared for a few seconds more, chose a direction, and inserted it back into the hole in my chest.
Presently, the numbness faded, to my relief.

I'm Fucking Hilarious

My co-worker was telling me about a meal she was preparing to cook later that night.
She was asked for advice on how to cook a certain piece of meat.

"My roommate was a really good cook, but she's gone now, " she said to me.

"Has she passed on?"

"No, she just went to Bermuda."

"Oh, that's what my mom said about my grandma."