So, it turns out that the horrid hacking, congestion, and lung spasms I have been enduring for the past week or so wasn't the black lung after all. Well, shit. A sick day from work (which I hate taking only three weeks into a new job) and a fabulous visit to the walk-in clinic later (where, no lie, the guy ahead of us in line was daubing at a wound on his knee with a paper towel, and looked as if he had fallen into three feet of water, as he was soaked from his jorts down so badly that one of the nurses removed the chair he was sitting in from the waiting room because the cushion was soaked through), I now sit here, full of antibiotics and possibly addiction-forming cough medicine, trying not to cough and pee myself at the same time.
(Looking back at what I just wrote, I apologize wholeheartedly for the above catastrophe of images. I mean, honestly: jorts. This is where I live, people!)
Anyway, besides neglecting the blog, I've been sick for the past week or so. I've spent all weekend in a haze of medications and being able to do absolutely nothing but hydrate myself and find the following gem, which was the result of stopping for but a second to link the concepts of jorts, mullets, Z. Cavariccis, and Tyler Benchfield:
HEART ATTACKTommy PuettSingingfool.comI know, I know. It's almost as if I'm trying to make you suffer right along with me. But honestly, if you can make it past the minute mark in that video, well, you are much, much heartier than I. And didn't he sing this on one of the LGO episodes, whilst attempting the Running Man? Christ, I need to get out of my head sometimes.
I'm off to plot the purchase of Life Goes On: Season One on DVD so that I may be able to cleanse myself of this ridiculousness and go back to when Kellie Martin was my hero.
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