Lord, Am I Ever SickI was supposed to come into the New Year busting with blog posts simply cracking with wit and insight. My prolific writing and ceaseless wit was totally going to make up for the obvious fact that my writing has kinda fallen off as of late.
Instead, I am sick. Real sick. I've never had so much phlegm in all my life. I'm coughing, sneezing and snuffling, filling up wastebaskets with used tissues and treating my coworkers to a symphony of sinus sounds. My face looks appallingly like a glazed doughnut at times, my New Year's moustache occasionally buried under unprecedented facial tsunamis. Call me disrespectful, but when a quake in my nose makes snot-nami crash onto my lip's shore, it is a freaking disaster.
Whenever I am sick, I imagine the not-so-distant future, when men that look like Jeff Goldblum will have invented machines that actually TELEPORT mucus. I fantasize about standing on an empty city sidewalk all strapped into the apparatus and entering the coordinates...after a loud vibrating hum, all the fluids that my body will produce for the duration of my illness appear before me on the sidewalk. They hover in the air in a riugh shape of my body and organs for a second, then collapse onto the sidewalk with a thick splash,. Then I step lightly over that sloppy doppelganger and go have a coffee, whistling all the way.
I think the codeine in my cough syrup is kicking in. Stay tuned...