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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Friday, November 6   >>

AND I GOTS THE REMEDY / THE REMEDY / IS SOMETHIN' SOMETHIN' / IT'S SOMETHIN' SOMETHIN' SOMETHIN'

So, as previously mentioned in an earlier blog entry this week, I'm sick. AGAIN. This is the price you pay for touching little kids.

That's right, I touch their musical souls.

< / joke fail >

I think most people will agree with me when I say that the worst part about being sick (aside from missing work, money, seeing your friends and waking up in dry-heave-induced aches) is that everyone won't shut up about their expertise in medicine. It's like everyone has a fucking cure to your illness.

"OH YAH, YOU SHOULD TOTALLY PUT SOME, LIIIKE, VODKA AND HONEY INTO SOME NICE WARM GREEN TEA, YOU'LL FEEL LIKE RUNNING A MARATHON!"

I've heard some of the dumbest shit lately, from going in a tub full of cold water and lemons, to taking up to 5 OTC medications at a time. Who the fuck do I look like? Andy Dick?



No, but seriously, this is the kind of anecdotal bullshit that results in me getting WORSE because my temperature rises, therefore making my body an even HOTTER hotbed of bacteria. EVERYBODY SHUT UP.

Latinos are the most notorious of these sorts. Their cures are always the most disgusting concoctions. Salt water and pomegranate juice mixed in chicken broth and OH MY GOD, it's like a cocktail of prostitute snatch. Just thinking of it makes me more sick.

----

Swear to god: One time I was sick in, like, the 4th grade or something. I was just chillin' in my room when all of a sudden the imagery of cold beans comes into my head. I immediately throw up ALL over the floor and this is the reason I'm not around cold beans. Thinking about it makes me gag.

Swear to god, totally gagged right now. BLAOH!

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LOL @ "...it's like a cocktail of prostitute snatch." Man, that is GOOD. I should do director's commentary to my blog. It'll just be me laughing the whole time, then The Girlfriend randomly dropping in to say, "You're such a doucher, it's not that funny." And then I'll violently beat her up and her cries recorded on tape will become evidence in a future trial in which I'm convicted of domestic abuse and money laundering. Fuckin' nutty, man. Fuckin' nutty.