Tuesday, May 30, 2006

And one more thing...

I've got bad news for you Jennifer Aniston fans. The Break-Up is one of the worst movies you will ever see. Worse than Rumor Has It. I guess my sweet J-An might want to head back to TV land for her next paycheck.

In a less than coherent manner, Chase presents

You'll rarely hear me moan on and on about what ails me. I have no tolerance for hypochondriacs. But after 26 years of no bitching, hear my plight.

I am already suffering from the aforementioned sun burn, which seems to be increasing in redness and pain despite my complete lack of time in the sun. Adding injury to insult is the ceaseless cough/congestion that came the same day as the sunburn. Throw in a hangover from the pits of Hell and we've got us one happy fucking camper.

Today before work I confused my Nyquil for my Dayquil. As soon as I realized what I'd ingested, I tried in vain to make myself throw up. Apparently I'd make a poor anorexic (or is it bulimic? I have no knowledge of such things). I went to work in a narcoleptic state. However, the Nyquil did nothing for my cough and I proceeded to gross out every table I waited on.

In an effort to numb the pain, I had my friend at the bar make me a vodka and nothing that I sipped in between coughing and falling asleep. By the end of the drink I had literally fallen asleep in the men's restroom. Not my finest hour, but hey, at least I got paid to take a nap.

I waited on two teenagers who were so unimpressed with the horrible service I gave them in my fatigued, drunken stupor that for my tip they wrote, "My balls smell like summer squash" on the credit card receipt.

So now I'm home rubbing lotion all over myself (and now I can't stop laughing because I'm reminded of Silence of the Lambs). The ugly, ugly neighbors above me are having loud hyena sex (I'd be jealous if I hadn't had some myself yeserday). Before blogging I had the good sense to make myself another drink.

You can keep Grandma's chicken soup and your Nyquil. The best cure for a cold/sunburn/deep sense of humiliation is vodka.

Ah-men.