I want to get high, so high.

Eh; I wadda go hoooooooooo-buh!

I'm pretty sick, and it's getting to me a little bit. The medicine that makes me feel the most better has codeine in it, and so I can't take it while I'm at work. I'm all stopped up and coughy and snorty and snotty and whiny and I honestly DON'T CARE how your day is going because I feel really baaaaaaaaaaaad, okay?

You know, a couple of months ago, Kane, Jude, Reed, and Jason all got sick, one by one. They had the runny nose, and the sinus crap, and the wet cough, and all that stuff that kind of gives you the full-body shiver and makes you scrub your body with Clorox wipes. MAN, I cleaned the house and sprayed us all down with Lysol every day, and somehow, I managed to avoid the sickness. I kept waiting for that tell-tale day in which I started to feel really low, but it never came. Eventually, everyone was well, and I still hadn't gotten sick, and I thought, "Hallelujah! I've finally gotten to a place where I can be around sick people and not get sick!"

So when Jude started coughing about three weeks ago, I hardly even thought about it. Then Jason got really sick, sicker than Jude, and I worried a little bit. But I kept thinking that I'd just keep shuckin' and jivin', and I'd give this one the slip as well. Then I started to feel bad around Thursday of last week, and I was so disappointed. I thought that I might as well deal with it, because it was my fault anyway, since I hadn't been Cloroxing our silverware and toothbrushes as usual.

However, it has since come to my attention JASON, that it couldn't have been avoided no matter what I did about it. I mean, if I didn't live with people who scoff at germs as being figments of my imagination and things better left unthought-of, I might have avoided it. But as it is, I live with JASON and JUDE, so I really couldn't have avoided it.

One night last week, Kane and Jude were having sandwiches for supper; it was one of those nights when I was not ABOUT to lift a finger for anyone besides myself, as I was too busy having massages and bon-bons and shit, so they were making the sandwiches themselves. Usually when they do this, Jude puts a modicum of jelly on one piece of bread, folds it in half, and calls it a sandwich. On this particular evening, I had called in from my pedicure and foot rub to tell him to use two pieces of bread for pete's blue-eyed sakes, and put some God damn peanut butter on there too! So I was standing there, and Jude was making his sandwich, and he put a teeny-tiny smear of jelly on the bread, licked the knife, and then DIPPED IT BACK INTO THE JELLY JAR, and then LICKED IT SOME MORE. After I awoke from my simultaneous stroke/coma, I said, "You CANNOT put that knife back in the jelly after you've LICKED IT." And what I actually intended was for him to put that knife in the sink and get a new one. As much as these guys love to clear out our cabinets and fill up the sink with dirty dishes, I know that any other day Jude would have put the knife in the sink and got a new one. But on this day, he ran the knife under the faucet for about .3 nanoseconds, and then stuck it right back into the jelly jar. And then he licked it. And then he stuck it back in there again. And then I had my second stroke/coma for that day, but this time there was also a seizure thrown in for good measure.

In an event which shall now be known as "not at all fucking unrelated", Jason and I were at Target the other night, and he said, "We need batteries." He went on to tell me that the batteries had been out in his toothbrush for some time. Then he dropped the bomb: "Yours will probably go out pretty soon. Because I've been using your toothbrush since my batteries went dead." Now, people, before you get all "God, you're a prude!" on me, I don't necessarily have a problem with the occasional sharing of toothbrushes WHEN YOU ARE BOTH WELL AND HEALTHY AND HAVE NO DEADLY PLAGUES TO CAST UPON THE UNKNOWING VICTIM OF YOUR TOOTHBRUSH-RAPE. In this case, however, I feel like Jason could have SHOVED OFF and used his own germ-infested toothbrush for the duration of his illness.

So, to wrap up, (a) I am sick, and (b) It is not my fault. I might as well have been asking Jason to spit in my mouth and paying Jude to direct all those nice, juicy coughs right into my face.

I do dot like beig sick, ad dow I'b sick, ad I wadda go hobe, suck dowd sub codeed with a bartidi ad proceed to let Calgod take be away.