Sunday, March 14, 2010

I Sneeze


A lot.

And hard, too. Not like a little girl sneezes. Like a big manly roar of a sneeze. Scares the dog. Works my abs.

I sort of sit/lie in bed and type this while my girlfriend does the chores. It's nice to have a girl around for all the stuff that's below me as a man. She can cook, clean, do laundry, and look pretty, all while I sneeze and grunt and drink diet mountain dew until the caffeine makes me think I see my shoe moving by itself.

Sometimes, while I'm on the shitter reading a newspaper, I'll hear the sound of dishes clanking around in the sink and at that moment I smile because all is right with the world.

I just took a quick break to help her move furniture (man stuff) so that she could clean up where the dog tends to pee (woman stuff). Thank the flying spaghetti monster that we have concrete floors because her dog is a pee monster when we try to go out of town.

(Hold on...sneezing...)

Head colds are the worst, especially when they involve massive sinus pressure. There was once a time where I met a lady for the weekend whom I had been chatting with over the phone and computer for a number of months. The idea was to hang out in person to get to know each other better bang and see how things went. Unfortunately I developed a massive sinus infection a few days before the big event. I decided not to cancel believing I could treat my cold with whiskey and wine (FDA approved treatment regimen) and power through it. The first night was difficult, but I got through ok. The next day I woke up a miserable son of a bitch. That, along with some other reasons you'd know about if you bought me a beer and asked, caused a premature ending to the weekend.

I learned two things from that weekend that I will share with all 9 (Hi mom!) of my loyal readers.

First, wine and whiskey can cure (or at least mask) any ailment short of clostridium difficile (That's for you, Chako) long enough for you to bang (medical term) even the most unique looking individual.

Second, those pictures she sent you are not, I REPEAT NOT, from yesterday.

But what can you do, right? If you never take the chance you never know if it's going to be a hottie walking through that door or one of the hottie's chubby friends she uses to make herself stand out more. I wouldn't do anything different if I could go back. Except to maybe have gouged my eyes out beforehand.


I kid. She wasn't so bad.

And since I'm in full disclosure mode here, I should probably mention that I do a lot of the cooking, my fair share of dishes and vacuuming, and look fan-fucking-tastic in a dress.

Wait, what?



DrChako said...

I DO NOT recommend wine as a treatment for c. dif (FYI - all the cool docs call it c. dif. Even cooler docs put it in italics, but I can't figure out how to do that in the comments), but a good scotch probably can't hurt.

(searches wikipedia, like all the cool docs)

Hold that thought. Whiskey isn't such a good idea either.


PS. Let's hear it for good women. And comfortable aprons. At least she doesn't make me wear the high heels when I wash dishes.

The Bracelet said...

I get made fun of when I do the dishes because I take all the crap out of the sink so I have room to work. She's a piler. Everything has to go in the sink and off the counters which creates these delicate towers which inevitably topple or slide. Then, disgusting slurry water is flung out on to the counters or whatever. It's gross. So I get made fun of but the dishes get a better scrub. I'm amazing.

I agree on the c. dif. I only spelled it out for the unwashed masses but I go with c. dif whenever possible. Way cooler.

Also, a good scotch is definitely rendered useless when sipped in between episodes of explosive diarrhea.