(No Post Title, Just Some Whimpering)

I'm totally sick now, y'all.

My throat's all "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH" and my head feels like it's been dipped in concrete and dried with a blast furnace, but not before the neighborhood kids were allowed to come along and write their initials in my forehead with a stick. I barely slept last night, choosing instead to hork up green stuff at regular intervals, and I've hit that point where all my muscles hurt like buildings on fire and my attitude is so grumpy and mean, biker-bar bouncers are not making eye-contact because they're afraid I'll introduce a pool cue to their temples.

And I'd do it, too. I'm a man on the edge with nothing to lose.

Also, why the hell are all these biker-bar bouncers in my apartment? Because my liquor licence got taken away years ago (there was an incident involving Foxy Boxing, a bazooka, and a little league baseball team that thought we were a McDonalds just because I happened to be dressed like a clown on that fateful night).

So... yeah... I'm not feeling very well today. Not very well at all.

However, I need to toss special mad, phat ups at m'boy Todd, for pointing me towards a wondrous, throat-soothing, drunken beverage known as the Hot Toddy (no relation). It's hot water and lemon and honey and whiskey all done up in a mug called "yum" and my spectacular girlfriend has been making them for me all weekend. If the drink didn't already have a name, I'd call it "The Gullet Snuggler."

I guess that's it. I'm sick and, thus, the world mourns. Probably pop back in later, just to give my brain something else to focus on other than my own eventual demise, but as for now... it's back to bed with my sorry butt.

Later, gators.