The Sick Chronicles

Note: all of this was written on Friday.

I'm staying home sick from work today. Whenever, I stay home from work, even when sick, it's kind of like a Home Alone situation. Yes, I will run through the halls screaming in my underwear, but I will also take the time to see I eat nutritious meals and wrap my Christmas presents. Since it is an extra special day, I am going to go ahead and keep a running track of all my activities.

9:15: Wake up. Ouch. Apparently a dragon has taken up residence in my throat. I think for a moment about going in to work. I certainly have the energy to go in, but I don't want to risk it. I go back and forth for a few minutes before I decided to let a flip of the coin handle my fate. Heads = no work, tails = work. I flip the coin. It's too dark to see it in here. Everyone feels the tension; my heart is pounding like a tom tom, old men are crying into their handkerchiefs, young ladies spontaneously go into birth.

It's heads.

I make the necessary emails to my comrades at work and get ready for my big day at home.

10:30: Decide to make breakfast. For a second there, I thought Eric cooked all my eggs last weekend, in which case, he would've paid for his transgression with man blood. How about this for a rule: whenever we reference part of our body, we need to preface it with the word man. That way, we get man face, man bones, etc. It makes you sound like an alien, which is my favorite thing to sound like.

Every time I crack eggs, I think of Ghostbusters. That's got to be the best egg related movie scene ever. That movie was to eggs what Janet Jackson was to crazy moon nipple clamps. Ghostbusters put eggs on the map. On a related note, after the first smell of food, I realized again that I am not feeling well and thus probably shouldn't make elaborate meals for myself. Nevertheless, I soldier on.

11:30: Apparently my parents don't regard me as a self healing super cyborg. They want me to go see a doctor. Talk about a one way ticket to lamesville. I do have some fancy health insurance at work, but I don't know how to use it. If I went in then, the whole thing would probably end up costing me a several thousand dollars due to my incompetence. I do have a health insurance card, but what do I do with it? Do I swipe it? Do I show it to the doctor? It is for precisely this reason that I haven't gone to see a doctor in a few years. Instead, I just wander the streets until I find someone wearing glasses, and then I ask him, "Do I look well to you?" And obviously, I'm not dead yet, so it seems to be working.

First bite of my breakfast: I am missing out on my calling if i don't drop this software crap immediately and become a fry cook at the Waffle House. It's almost a delight to dry heave my way through this meal. Second bite of the meal: I'm not sure if I cooked the sausage thoroughly. Trichinosis on top of my Chinese death flu? That'll make for a good obituary.

2:00: Feed a cold, starve a fever; we all know how that works. What if you're just generally sick, though? Here are a few ideas.
Feed a cold, starve a fever, bathe a general sickness.
Feed a cold, starve a fever, karate chop a general sickness.
Feed a cold, starve a fever, serenade a general sickness.
I opt for the last one, as I fall asleep with my TV inexplicably turned to CMT. I will chalk that up to delerium. Wake up 2 hours later, feel better, then quickly feel much worse.

4:30: Hot dogs for lunch. I am probably the world's biggest fan of cow lips and anuses in weiner form. Strike that, in any form. And speaking of which, they should make more every day items out of hot dog materials. Imagine a cuckoo clock made out of hot dogs; it'd be the greatest combination of time-telling and C-grade meat in the history of mankind. I put this in my Million Dollar Ideas notebook.

The rest of the day just went downhill from me babbling about hot dogs, so I'll cut it off there. The good news is that I'm now feeling much better, and I've been skipping and singing like nobody's business since Friday's ugliness. The bad news is, I'm pretty sure my sickness was no accident. Yes, my numerous enemies have resorted to poisoning me. Big mistake, evil operatives, because there's nothing that gets my panties in a bunch more than a poisoning. Even if it's well intentioned.

Hey livejournal users, you can now follow all of the exciting goulash happenings here. I don't know who set that up, but thanks.

Posted by Cody at February 8, 2004 2:11 PM