Thursday, September 25, 2008

Arbitrary Rulings 19 (Sickness Edition)

Stuffy Nose - This might be the worst thing in the known universe outside of being waterboarded by terrorists or having to sit in the front row of a Dane Cook concert. It feels like you're being suffocated by a Mafia hitman, but one who uses snot as his weapon and only attacks at three o'clock in the morning so you don't get any sleep and you're forced to wander through your day like a zombie that's actually BEGGING for someone to shoot them in the head. At least then you'd get some shut eye. I'm currently living in this awful, awful state of being... which means Fall is here, incidentally... and if the French Revolution were to suddenly show up at my office with their powdered wigs and Queens telling peasants to eat cake or whatever, I'd totally let them guillotine my mucous-y noggin into oblivion. If, you know, they happened to have a guillotine handy and weren't busy drinking wine until they started singing the songs of angry men, which as you might know, is the music of the people who will not be slaves again. Obviously. (I apologize, as always, for any and all musical theater references)

Barfing - Awful, if you've got the flu or something and haven't even done anything fun to warrant the violent expulsion of everything you've eaten since your senior year of high school. When you're drunk and just want the room to stop spinning, barfing can be a deeply satisfying experience on par with diarrhea-ing out a Mexican combo platter after a tense, butt-clenched subway ride home. But when the puking is entirely illness-based, it's totally and completely lame. You feel like your body is being turned inside out by an Egyptian curse because you came into possession of an ancient diamond found deep in a mine in Cairo (in this analogy, the diamond represents viral infections) and that's just all kinds of no fun. Plus, it gives you way rank breath that only ten or twelve scrubbings with a tube of Crest can truly eradicate.

Sympathy - Arguably the best thing about being sick. People fawning all over you and bringing you soups and magazines to read and refills of orange juice (or, if you're me, whiskey)... a person could get used to the waited-on lifestyle pretty damn quick. So you try to stretch it out... whenever your nursemaid comes in the room, you have a coughing fit or try to sit up but fall over in a clammy heap or you pretend the disease has made you go blind. Whatever it takes to keep the gravy train rolling. You'll get busted in the end, of course; they'll walk in while you're up dancing around, singing along to VH1's Totally 80s video marathon using a bottle of Robitussin as a microphone, or something to that effect, but man... what a ride, huh? What a ride.

Doctor's Visit - Such a hassle. The waiting rooms and the surly employee attitudes and the cold, cold hands of a medical professional on your nutsack as you turn, cough, and die a little inside... who needs it? Sure they have "medicine" that could make you "feel better," but is that REALLY worth getting out of bed? No, of course not. You'll be fine, for sure, if you just keep doing what your doing; ie taking lots of Tylenol and drinking Ocean Spray straight from the bottle while smearing Vick's Vap-O-Rub all over your chest like the least sexy stripper that ever existed. What could possibly go wrong? And, parenthetically, why has your neck begun to resemble a tractor tire, both in size and color? Eh, it's probably nothing. More Ocean Spray!!!

Dying - The inevitable conclusion to getting sick, although it's an end that's more often than not avoided thanks to the body's natural ability to fight off disease and/or the advances of modern pharmaceuticals. Of course it's a lot more likely if you, say, don't go visit the doctor (who said that?) or are one of those crazy Christian Science weirdos that think Jesus will come down from Heaven with a syringe full of love and make it all better with that and some prayer that makes flowers grow. Seriously, what is WRONG with those people... Jesus ain't no doctor. I watched ER and he never made even ONE cameo appearance. Which I think proves my theory that there is no God. What? No, it totally does. Don't argue with me. Did I mention I'm sick?

7 Comments:

Blogger Digital Fortress said...

I hardly ever go to the doctor when I get sick, unless gangrene has set in.

Doctors are a waste of time. They never keep their appointment, so you sit in their waiting room enclosed with folks hacking and coughing the hanta virus into the air. When you finally make it into an examination room you’re basically treated and diagnosed by a kid with a GED and a 6-to-12 week CNA certificate who Googled your symptoms. When the high and mighty doctor finally pokes his head in the room he checks the chart to make sure the CNA at least made a good educated guess, writes you a scrip for some drugs and sends you on your way.

I've watched enough Doogie Howser, M.D. to be able to diagnose myself. I'll keep my co-pay and order some Mexican drugs online and self medicate.

10:51 AM  
Blogger AndSheWas said...

That was the best description of drunk barfing vs. sick barfing I've ever read. I didn't realize there was such a nuanced distinction between the two.

11:43 AM  
Blogger Lioux said...

Sounds like someone needs a sponge bath...

FEEL BETTER, CLINTON!!!

12:27 PM  
Blogger Big Daddy said...

This post reminds me of this.

2:12 PM  
Blogger ML said...

the video ... that's TRUE. :)

4:21 PM  
Blogger Bill From Gainesville said...

Get better big guy

6:54 PM  
Blogger Todd said...

I have a theory that Whiskey cures cancer. Do you have cancer? Please don't ruin my theory. That'd be a very mean thing to do.

8:17 PM  

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