An Artistic Representation Of My Newly-Acquired Fever Blister

That's right, I've got a fever blister. And no, it's not because I had sex with a diseased, crack-addled prostitute. I mean, I did have sex with a diseased, crack-addled prostitute, but the fever blister showed up just before that all went down, so I'm pretty sure it comes from another source (the crabs, however, are an entirely different story). Truthfully, I don't know why, exactly, I get fever blisters; all I know is I usually wake up sporting one at least two or three times a year and that this has been the case since I was a kid. They seem to show up when there's been weird changes in the weather, or right after I've been sick, both of which being things that have occurred in the last couple of days.

Anyway, it hurts. And it's made me grumpy, because even though I know in my brain that it's really not that noticeable, in my heart I still feel like John Merrick. Not to mention this is all happening on the day after the Cowboy's heartbreaking loss to the Giants in the playoffs. Kick a man while his sports team is down, why dontcha?

(SIGH)

Everything is sadness and soggy do-scuits for the C-dog, kids. Why does the sun never shine for me? Why, Jesus... why?

NOTE: Jesus probably won't answer me. He's such a jerk. Jerky Jesus, that's what I'm going to call him from now on.

2ND NOTE: If someone were to create a religion-themed line of dried, cured meats and sell them under the name, "Jesus Jerky," they'd probably make a fortune in the South. Just sayin'.