Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


This Week.

Lesson One: the people at Giant want you to die. This is why they close their pharmacy at 4:00 on a Sunday, ostensibly so that the pharmacist can "go home to be with his family." I call BS. Pharmacists don't have families. They're bitter, miserable alcoholics. They close at 4 so people like me can't get pseudoephedrine containing drugs at 6:00 on a Sunday afternoon, because the only thing they found at mom's was a packageless strip of sudafed with an expiration of 2/06.

(I should explain: I've been sick since Tuesday. Upper respiratory infection with flat-on-my-ass exhaustion. I went to my mom's Sunday to lay on a different couch for a day, one with television. Also, I had taken the last of my own stash of decongestants and was hoping to find some at her house. I didn't think they'd have expired when I still lived there.)

When you are shopping for cold medicine and pass by the one with something to control coughs because "I'm not coughing." Guess what. You're going to get home, flop onto the couch, and immediately begin barking like a freaking seal. Also "Oooh, benadryl makes cold medicine! They always manage to knock me out!" isn't a good enough reason to buy it. Because it will knock you out at 7 when you take it, but not at 11 when you actually attempt to take it again to go to bed. Assholes.

When your left eyeball threatens to leave your head, your sinuses are full of magma, and you really want to simply die, Mucinex D is your best friend, and if the stupid pharmacy at Giant is closed, and you can't buy any there, march your butt down to Walgreens and buy some where the pharmacy is NEVER CLOSED. They care about you at Walgreens. They want you to live.

Side note to the flamboyant guy who was ringing me out at Giant. If you'd spend less time talking to the guy 5 registers over about how many people you've gotten fired because "you didn't like them" and more time looking at my crap as you rang me out, you wouldn't jack up a simple debit transaction, and then I wouldn't have to beat you to death the next time I see you in a dark parking lot. Trust me, I don't think your "High School Musical-Fu" will be any match for my "Snot Ball-Fu." Right now I don't like you. Think I can get you fired?

The good news is I'm feeling well enough to snark, so that's looking up. For a while I was too sick to even read. (I'll let that sink in for a moment.) Luckily, P brought soup, Boondocks on DVD and some Family Guy to pick up the slack where my own meager DVD collection and Netflix left off. Today I think it's laundry day and we'll see what happens. Yay.


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