Now that I can halfway breathe out of both nostrils without spewing forth green slime (sort of) and my lymph nodes have shrunk down to a respectable walnut size, I'd like to take a minute to reflect back to my Christmas Eve which was full of joy, food and me being a giant, raging sick bitch.
I made a trip to the MinuteClinic at CVS on my lunch break on Tuesday the 23rd because it looked like a couple of mutant bees stung me on either side of my neck and it felt as though my tonsils had set themselves on fire. I was convinced I had strep throat, then I could just take the rest of the day off and the half day that I was required to work on Christmas Eve, get some kick ass antibiotics (Yea Z-Pak!) and feel better in about 18 hours. Of course the fucking test was negative and all I could weasel out of the nurse practitioners was a bullshit throat spray prescription, which I never picked up anyway because I'm sick and lazy and would rather piss and moan about paying a $25 copay only to end up not getting my goddamn Z-Pak instead. So, in honor of knowing that it was all downhill from there, I went out Tuesday night mostly to meet up with some old friends, including Becca mentioned in the earlier post, but also because I'm fairly certain that chocolate martinis cure all ailments.
And by cure I mean every gland in my body - neck, armpits, legpits - swelled to the size of grapefruits by the next morning and I wanted to run off and join the circus freak show to earn some extra cash to help pay off that wasted copay *BITTER* except that would require, I don't know, energy, which I had none of. Just stuff me in one of those big green garbage cans in my community garage and leave me for dead you MinuteClinic bastards.
As a result of it hurting to live, I was late to work where I sat through the longest and most pointless 4 hours of my life, then headed straight to the Walgreens by my apartment to pick up some vitamin C supplements. People swear by the Emergen-C shit, so I thought it couldn't hurt. Except as soon as I stepped into the store the skinny heel of my beloved, beautiful brown boot snapped, which I'm pretty sure only happens in the movies and to me. So, not only could I not really walk correctly already because of my freakishly humongous legpit lymph nodes, but now I was hobbling through a Christmas Eve Walgreens crowd with a broken heel while mourning the loss of said brown boot, my sanity and my health and to top it off I couldn't find the goddamn, piss, ass, shitty bitch Emergen-fucking-C! While the voices in my head screamed 'WHERE IN THE MOTHERFUCKING HELL IS THE EMERGEN-C YOU WHORES!,' I calmly gimped over to a display and settled on some other off brand called like Mega Ultron Awesome-C or something instead.
Since the benefits of this so-called miracle elixir haven't been approved by the FDA, I'm pretty sure us fools are just dumping a mixture of orange flavored Kool-Aid, fairy dust and powdered cow shit into a glass of water, but hey, all you really need is the placebo effect right?
So, I downed a glass and waited for the instant cure while wrapping Christmas presents, waiting for my last package of x-mas presents from UPS and watching Maury. Yes, 16 negative paternity tests and "I am 110 percent sure he 'da baby daddy!" is quite appropriate for Christmas Eve, but sadly he had a bunch of kids and that one animal dude showing a bunch of lion cubs and stuff instead. Awww, Maury does have some decency...unfortunately. However, a giant turtle did projectile piss all over the stage, so it wasn't a total loss. It brought back memories of Murtle (R.I.P. : () - the box turtle that walked around our house like a dog when I was growing up and used to pee all over you if you held her at any angle other than perfectly level. She finally died at the age of 32 about 6 years ago. And people wonder why I'm such a freak...Who the fuck lets a turtle roam around their house? It's like having a car, but choosing to ride a llama to work on occasion instead. The best part was, we thought we were normal and everybody else was retarded when they'd freak out about it. Weird, yes, but really fucking cool? YES.
I ended up passing out for three hours and it was after 6 p.m. by the time I woke up - I was late to Christmas at Mom and Dad's, I hadn't showered, my limbs felt like they were made of wood, I was growing fruit in my armpits, I looked like a crack head and the goddamn UPS man hadn't showed up yet. Then, my mom called me to see where I was and I burst into tears. What a pansy.
She attempted to calm me down while holding back laughter as I sobbed about my broken heel in Walgreens and the UPS man voodoo doll I had just finished making. I hung up with her, pulled it together, then 47 seconds later the UPS man showed up on my doorstep and I proceeded to rip off all my clothes and jump into his arms. He said he'd been getting that response all day. Perhaps if UPS would have shown up before 6:45 p.m. on Christmas Eve my head wouldn't have threatened to explode and I wouldn't have had to resort to public indecency with a stranger in an ugly brown uniform. Oh the things you do to spread a little Christmas cheer.
I did finally make it to Christmas Eve with the fam where I inhaled massive amounts of food (at least I still had my appetite right?), but had to avoid holding any babies so I wouldn't give them "fiery-throat-huge-lymph-noid-snottastic-itis."
And, while I did NOTHING except live the life of a drunken crack whore for a week and a half afterwards, the snot still isn't completely gone. I wonder why...