Tuesday, September 28, 2004

My Nearly C Cups Runneth Over

Bazoombas. Ta Tas. Boobies. Biscuits. Melons. Hooters. Big fat pains in the ass. 6 days till evil pee stick day and I am not optimistic, because if I did somehow manage the miracle of life, I've already killed the poor thing off. Between the smoke from the campfire, sleeping in a molded tent, the high fever and the gallons of Nyquil, the poor thing didn't stand a chance. I got back on Sunday but I haven't moved out of bed in days. I will go back to work tomorrow after 3 days called in sick. My boss called me and said, "I heard you called in sick, what happened?" Huh? How do you answer that? "It was the darndest thing, I tripped and fell into a pile of cold symptoms." I am not sure what she was looking for there but, I hope I provided it.
So Chris went out for a boys night of poker and I am left feeling sorry for myself. I made him pick me up some chick flicks so I could at least wallow in someone else's problems. I am writing on borrowed time, any second now my possessed computer is going to kick me off. I will write more tomorrow, G'Night! Sniff, sniff, snuffle, whine, cough.

1 comment:

Jen P said...

Just a quick note to say that I hope you feel better soon!!! <3