Being sick sucks. I have a fever, plugged nose, headache, sore throat, etc…and I’m at work. Why? Because my daughter was sick last week, and if I were to take a sick day I would get another “occurrence”, which is a heaping mound of dung that I don’t want to have to scrape off my shoe. (I honestly wonder how many fecal metaphors I could come up with that involve work. That’s a task for another day, though.) So here I am, plugging away at work.
Thankfully, I really don’t feel too bad. I’m perfectly able to stay at work and function well. Of course, I’ll end up infecting all of my coworkers, which is really just testament to why their system is stupid. Enjoy your cold, suckas! It’ll come for you soon enough.
I’m really hoping that my wife doesn’t come down with this. She’s got a more delicate constitution when it comes to being sick (no offense, honey…). I hope she drinks her OJ, because I don’t want her to miss CLUTCH tomorrow night. Actually, I don’t think that anything’s really gonna keep her away. She could break her leg and lose an arm and she’d still be there. She’s got a bit of a thing for Neil Fallon, I suspect. I’m trying to compensate by wearing a beard.
This weekend the wife and I are gettin’ the heck out of dodge and leaving the Gwenner in the care of my mother. It’s officially the start of my spring break on Saturday at approximately noon, so…w00t. We can’t really do the whole Cancun thing these days, so mini-vacations are the way to go. This is yet another reason that I hope that Kerry doesn’t get sick. Drink your OJ, honey. Vitamin C is good for you.
I’ve been enjoying my Trappist and Scottish 80/- ales very much. The Trappist tastes darn near exactly like it’s supposed to, which makes me exceedingly happy. The Scottish does too, from what I’ve read, but it’s interesting to say the least. There’s a kind of burnt taste involved with it that I didn’t like at first. Now I love it. It’s described as a “hint of peat” by some…uh…describers. Quite good, though.
I’m super excited to see all manner of friends at First Ave tomorrow night. A good time will be had. Until then, it’s back to poppin’ Ricola like mad and waiting for my Tylenol Sinus to kick in.
4 comments:
As long as you don't describe it as having "a hint of Pete", you should be just fine.
Yeah, it's not a pale ale. Ba-dum, CHING!
Or a "Cream Stout", or a "Jizzweisen".
Right, right. It's more of an amber cock.
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