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Sick like the flu
Dec. 23rd, 2002 01:22 pmExcept, I'm really sick, not slang sick.
I've had this strange nausea for the past week or so. I'm gagging or heaving at minor gross-ity, when normally I have a fairly steel stomach. I thought perhaps it was related to my more frequent drinking that was occuring at all the social gatherings.
Yesterday I spend 80% of the day on the couch, horizontal. The other 20% was spent on the couch vertical. I watched television, played Nightfire, watched Death to Smoochy (which wasn't great but wan't horrible -- but it probably was more palatable because of my mindset), watched more television. Took some naps. Watched some porn. Made steak and eggs for dinner. Watched Julianne Moore on Inside the Actors Studio and actually learned something about acting, which I've never actually done when watching that show. Then watched "The War Room" which made me very nostalgic for 1992.
I though my lazyness yesterday was due to sleep deprivation, but as I headed to bed I got the funny feeling in the back of my throat and then BAM! I woke up this morning sick. It's somewhat mild, or maybe it's warming up and will hit me harder soon. I'm hoping desperately for the former, since I don't want to fly sick and be sick in California and spread my sickness across the country like the people from New Mexico going to NYC when they had the bubonic plague. Typhoid Mary indeed.
So here's the deal. I don't know where to start with my weekend.
I spent Saturday evening watching Slim sleep, but not like that. She and her sister dozed off halfway through their beers on my couch while Roberto, Damon and I did tarot readings. I drank heavily to stay awake. I was so tired because I only got five hours of sleep the night before and they weren't even all in a row. Friday night I DJed the houseparty and watched my girlfriend make out with someone else which was a first and an interesting (but not bad) experience that I wanted to duly note. We got home at 2:30 am, didn't fall asleep until 3:30, woke up at 5 am to drive her to the airport.
On the way home a crazy minivan cab tried to run me off the road because I had the nerve to honk my horn when he cut me off. Apparantly, he decided he hadn't REALLY cut me off and to prove it, he would show me what cutting off was. I made him more angry by performing Picard evasive maneuvers which worked well, but then when I punched it and zipped past him in the left lane he acted like Mad Max and swerved near me as if he wanted to occupy my lane on top of me. I'm sure me flicking him off didn't calm him, but if anyone ever deserved it, it was this asshole. Both times.
After I was out of harm's way, I came up with three brilliant ideas I could have easily executed with my cell phone (had I not been busy fearing for my life). First, I could have called the cab company and reported him while also fibbing about how I used to use their company (which I did many years ago) but now I'd never get in one of their cabs again. Second, I could have called 911 and reported his attempt to drive me off the rode. Third (and most brilliant, I think), I could have called 911 and reported a drunk driver with the following license plate who was swerving into lanes and cutting people off and running folks off the rode and I'm sorry my phones breaking up *click*. This way I wouldn't actually have to participate in the police handling of the situation.
Then I came home to find that in the hour I was gone, Sophie crapped on my dirty clothes. The shit cleaned up pretty easily, but the smell did not. I retired to the futon couch while the candles and febreze did their magic.
I have more to say. There's always more, including random things like how I hate in the Taco Bell commercial they use the word "stuft". But I'm tired and achey and wanting to go home.
Oh, and I received![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cruelnails mix CD in the mail! And in case anyone doubted our strange BizarroWorld/kindred spirit connection, we put the exact same DJ Shadow song on each other's mix.
I've had this strange nausea for the past week or so. I'm gagging or heaving at minor gross-ity, when normally I have a fairly steel stomach. I thought perhaps it was related to my more frequent drinking that was occuring at all the social gatherings.
Yesterday I spend 80% of the day on the couch, horizontal. The other 20% was spent on the couch vertical. I watched television, played Nightfire, watched Death to Smoochy (which wasn't great but wan't horrible -- but it probably was more palatable because of my mindset), watched more television. Took some naps. Watched some porn. Made steak and eggs for dinner. Watched Julianne Moore on Inside the Actors Studio and actually learned something about acting, which I've never actually done when watching that show. Then watched "The War Room" which made me very nostalgic for 1992.
I though my lazyness yesterday was due to sleep deprivation, but as I headed to bed I got the funny feeling in the back of my throat and then BAM! I woke up this morning sick. It's somewhat mild, or maybe it's warming up and will hit me harder soon. I'm hoping desperately for the former, since I don't want to fly sick and be sick in California and spread my sickness across the country like the people from New Mexico going to NYC when they had the bubonic plague. Typhoid Mary indeed.
So here's the deal. I don't know where to start with my weekend.
I spent Saturday evening watching Slim sleep, but not like that. She and her sister dozed off halfway through their beers on my couch while Roberto, Damon and I did tarot readings. I drank heavily to stay awake. I was so tired because I only got five hours of sleep the night before and they weren't even all in a row. Friday night I DJed the houseparty and watched my girlfriend make out with someone else which was a first and an interesting (but not bad) experience that I wanted to duly note. We got home at 2:30 am, didn't fall asleep until 3:30, woke up at 5 am to drive her to the airport.
On the way home a crazy minivan cab tried to run me off the road because I had the nerve to honk my horn when he cut me off. Apparantly, he decided he hadn't REALLY cut me off and to prove it, he would show me what cutting off was. I made him more angry by performing Picard evasive maneuvers which worked well, but then when I punched it and zipped past him in the left lane he acted like Mad Max and swerved near me as if he wanted to occupy my lane on top of me. I'm sure me flicking him off didn't calm him, but if anyone ever deserved it, it was this asshole. Both times.
After I was out of harm's way, I came up with three brilliant ideas I could have easily executed with my cell phone (had I not been busy fearing for my life). First, I could have called the cab company and reported him while also fibbing about how I used to use their company (which I did many years ago) but now I'd never get in one of their cabs again. Second, I could have called 911 and reported his attempt to drive me off the rode. Third (and most brilliant, I think), I could have called 911 and reported a drunk driver with the following license plate who was swerving into lanes and cutting people off and running folks off the rode and I'm sorry my phones breaking up *click*. This way I wouldn't actually have to participate in the police handling of the situation.
Then I came home to find that in the hour I was gone, Sophie crapped on my dirty clothes. The shit cleaned up pretty easily, but the smell did not. I retired to the futon couch while the candles and febreze did their magic.
I have more to say. There's always more, including random things like how I hate in the Taco Bell commercial they use the word "stuft". But I'm tired and achey and wanting to go home.
Oh, and I received
cruelnails mix CD in the mail! And in case anyone doubted our strange BizarroWorld/kindred spirit connection, we put the exact same DJ Shadow song on each other's mix.
