Ouch

Wow, my darlings. What should have been a marvelous Friday, complete with easier work load and a fun night out, turned into a minor disaster.

I want someone to bring me some soup, or at least insist in a futile "she'll never take me up on this" kind of way. I got one offer earlier, I guess, so I could have soup if I really wanted it. Here's why I need chicken noodles and sodium in a can:

This morning I worked out, ate right, had a nice soapy shower, and did 30 minutes worth of work. Then it happened. I discovered that I was coming down with a bladder infection. FAST. Having had one about 4 years ago, I raced out of the office and straight to my (old) drugs. Then it was to the clinic for a long ass, mildly painful wait. They said that things looked pretty bad and maybe there are major things wrong. But they just patted me gingerly on the head and gave me more drugs...so I have that going for me.

I tried to watch Dawn of the Dead, and the sight of people eating other people was making me really sick. So, I switched over to Kid Stays in the Picture which was infinitely more tolerable. I can handle metaphorical eating of other people in Hollywood, just not actual.

So I'm sitting here on a Friday night after having taken a long nap. I am no longer tired. I need to go into work tomorrow to make up for the missed day. I feel like a total sick loser. Wait, being vulnerable and lonely is unattractive. I am eliminating my chances of getting laid by one of you, my darlings--as if the bladder infection wasn't enough. Dang. Now I don't have soup OR a nice, strong man around.

I would place an electronic smiley face here if I could make one that conveyed a sense of tongue in cheek, witty, I'm just joshing kind of vibe. But the meds are keeping me from finding the right keys.

Doped. g