I started the morning by grousing about the state of the world in general, followed that with a piping hot bowl of prunes, and then watched my Matlock for a spell because I am an old person. Also, I do not eat prunes because I am not insane and prunes, no matter how tasty and fucking delicious they are, look like fucking cockroaches.
Sure, our old mattress was this ancient hand-me-down Tempur-Pedic thing that was actually ripped so badly that it was disintegrating, but because we are not normal, we bought an old people Sleep Number bed. I tried like crazy to get Daver to allow me to get the one that went up and down like a hospital bed with the radio and the TV remote built into the side, but he refused.
Apparently, me shrieking about “mah bedsores” in the middle of the mattress stores wasn’t enough to convince him that we needed a $4,000 bed. Ass.
The upside to getting a new mattress when one comes down with the flu, I suppose was that I spent most of the week in that bed. And I have to give it over to old people: that motherfucker is COMFORTABLE. I mean, sleeping on a box would be preferable to sleeping on the busted Tempur-Pedic because that thing had a gorge in the middle of it. A cavern. A chasm. It was kind of like a vagina in the middle of the mattress.
Now I can totally pick up dudes with my Sleep Number (40) rather than my zodiac sign. Because explaining that I’m not REALLY a Cancer and a lot more like a Leo makes me sound all kinds of neurotic.
But that’s all kind of a moot point because until I can pick up dudes at the Urgent Care Clinic*, I’m kind of screwed. Flu Made Who is pretty much got me down for the count and is trying to make me his bitch.
This here, Pranksters, is motherfucking bat country.
How are YOU today, my Band of Merry Pranksters? I assume you’re not sweating with the exertion of sitting up and praying for the sweet release of sleep death dramatics Vicodin to overtake you.
*is it me, or does the word “clinic” make you think of STD’s?