Which of the following statements is true?

  • I am dying of bloviated fasciitus.
  • I've got the nasturtiums.
  • My pullulating ganglia are fructifying.
  • I've lost all sensation in my anterior berline.
  • I am reading my thesaurus and I've come down with the flu.

  • Oh, the flu, how I hates it. I hates it bitterly, although it does have one perk. I finally had an excuse to hook up the internet in the bedroom, and I am presently blogging in repose. In my mind's eye, this has the potential to be terribly sexy, but I am afraid that the flu has injected itself into the scenario, and sexy is far, far away. Sexy is on the moon. Sexy saw my hair and marched away in disgust.


    I am drinking plenty of fluids, and in between bouts with nausea, I am eating leftover pizza. I just ate a piece with some kind of ground meat and raw red onions on top. I am starting to think that the pizza is half the problem. At least. I have also ingested vitamins. Does anyone have some antacid?

    I haven't thrown up once, though. I have nearly thrown up, and I have tasted bile in the back of my throat, but I have not charfed. Of this, I am very proud. On a day when moving into a prone position means that my bed feels like a gyroscope, not ralphing = victory.


    Tossing your cookies will not be tolerated.

    Your upchuck, your problem.

    Milkmoney or Not, Here I Come: Where No One Ever Chunders

    Honk if you hate hurling.

    Well now, isn't this just a sweet little piece of the internet today.

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pass out in front of daytime television if I can manage to drag this fluey mammal body off the bed.

    UPDATE: I just got all teary watching a brainy little kid recite the Declaration of Independence on Oprah. I'm not even American. This fever is fucked up.

    NaBloPoMo 2006It is Day 23 of (Inter)National Blog Posting Month 2006. Surf with the NaBloPoMo Randomizer. Shop at the NaBloPoMo store.