You Put the Banana in the Dragon’s Mouth and It Turns Back into the Baby, Right?

Yes, I’m still alive.

Sorta.

You see… I’ve been drowning in a sea of snot (of my own and the relatively related) over the last week and have finally managed to catch hold of that piece of driftwood long enough to pop up for air.

It. Has. Been. Miserable.

To say the least.

To say the most, it’s a sea of green snot… with the occasional bouts of toddler diarrhea.

And is anyone else really dissatisfied with the quality of NyQuil since they got rid of that “clear up the passages” ingredient in lieu of the pseudo (pseudo)-“clear up the passages” ingredient?

Because, dude, it so doesn’t clear up the passages. Even if you take twice the recommended amount… Which I do. Because I am the product of a joyfully mis-spent youth. And Louisiana. In an era where the drinking age was eighteen. And I was a fifteen sixteen (because that sounds a little better)-year-old with great breasts.

But it does makes for great dreams though.

Damn crack heads. (The ones who killed the pseudoephedrine not the ones in my dreams- they all look like Brad Pitt. So we’re good there.)

However, I’m feeling a bit chippier at this point… despite the fact that chippier isn’t a real word. I still can’t breathe properly, of course, but I no longer feel like I’ve been run over by a semi.

Perhaps just a mini-cooper.

Or two.

Complete with clowns.

Oh! And the dog? The one the husband lost (on purpose, I am sure of it)? He’s home (thanks to in part to an appropriately placed file in a homemade doggy biscuit).

But I’m not acknowledging that until he’s had a bath.

Because the smell of his misspent [doggy] youth is much worse than the smell of mine…

Although I do recall someone saying something very similar to/about me once.

But I’m saving that story for the officially unofficial biography…

Or maybe next Friday.

Eh, who knows?

Oh! And if you made it through all of the above sentence fragments, mis-used ellipses, and snot references with no substitute-sweetener aftertaste or other equally distressing ill effects, then be sure to come back tomorrow for my post on why I hated *HATED* Sex in the City (the movie, not the act itself) and why I’m a selfish, evil, environmentally UN-friendly nougat-centered bitch.

Bring your pitchforks.

(And vodka.)

June 17, 2008
Categories: Only Judith


1.©2008 by Courtney Hebert as Judith Shakespeare.
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3.Blog title courtesy of Oscar Wilde, pseudonym Virginia Woolf, design JudithShakes.