Hey, you know what's fucked? The wind today. My housemate just came home and said he saw a transport truck that had literally been blown over. You know what I call that?
Pardon my lack of vocabulary, but my brain is a little skewed. I went into work, which was dumb, considering my ever-enduring cold, but there were things due that nobody else could really get done except me. As such, I typed out silly things like "reports reported" and other nonsense. I usually have a good eye for bad spelling and grammar, but when I'm sick, it all goes to the shitter. All this to say that I'm now contemplating going to bed at 7:30, because I CAN and also because I NEED TO. I've got this pounding headache, and watching our fucktard of a mayor on the news is only making it worse.
It's possible that I swear more when I am sick. I like it, but of course, when I'm healthy again, I might look back and be embarrassed. Highly unlikely though. It's hard to embarrass me.
Like today, for example. My Francophone co-worker sweetly suggested that perhaps the reason I was sick is because I got too cold when I was asleep. But instead of saying that, he said, in broken English, that maybe I don't wear enough clothing to bed. He realized what he had said immediately, and turned pink, trying to figure out how to correct his last sentence so as not to be suggestive. Instead, I laughed like a donkey, and said, "You couldn't be more right... But if that's my problem, I don't want to fix it!" Guffaw, guffaw.
Boy, am I ever witty when I'm up to my ears in kleenex. I can't remember half the stuff I said today. It's a big, fat blur.
Bluuuuuurrrrrrrr. What a great word. Bluuuuurrrrrrr.
Oh God. That's it. I'm going to bed.