Friday, January 30, 2009

The Most Pathetic Birthday Poem Ever

Happy Birthday to me!
Still sick as can be.
I've coughed up a lung
which (trust me) ain't fun.


My day will be lacking
thanks to this darn hacking.
I'm chasing down pills,
with shots of NyQuil,
and wondering when
this "party" will end?

I still plan to eat
my Birthday Cake treat.
My lungs may be ill,
but my sweet tooth is swell.


I have just one wish
of the chef who will make
that yummy dish known
as the Birthday Cake.

It would be such a help
and serve as a plus
if the frosting is made
with Halls Mentho-Lyptus.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

CSI: Cootie Source Investigation

I am sick.

Stuffy head, aching body, hacking-out-my-lungs-till-I-break-a-rib sick. And in the midst of my coughing and sneezing and wading through a tsunami of tissues, I want to know just one thing:


WHO GAVE ME THEIR COOTIES?

Was it my co-worker, Terri? She came to work diligently every day in spite of admitting that she felt like death warmed over. But Terri was pretty good about lying low and keeping her distance, therefore she ranks low on my list of cootie suspects.

However, there was that incident last week when she overheard me complain about my dry sandpaper hands and shared her bottle of Aloe Vera hand lotion. I should have just thanked her and declined, but didn’t, which makes me a co-conspirator. Only an analysis of the hazmat (aka lotion dispenser) can confirm it as the site of the cootie transfer.

Or how about Pam? Could my best friend of over 30 years really be a part of the cootie conspiracy? When I said that her delicious cheese enchilada dinner was to die for, I didn’t mean it in the literal sense. But her dinner was almost two weeks ago and by then, Pam was in the final stages of The Bug and probably not contagious…or WAS she?

Only by obtaining a leftover enchilada and using a light-producing forensic tool such as luminol to reveal cootie traces would I be able to identify the source and confirm that my best friend was indeed the cootie culprit. But clever girl that she is, Pam has no doubt already consumed the evidence.

Then there’s Pat, my sister’s best friend and my surrogate sibling. Christmas Eve found Pat fighting The Bug when our family drove around town to admire holiday decorations. She sat next to me inside the crime scene (aka the SUV). Closed windows. Recycled air. Cootie breath. I don’t think I need to swab the inside of Pat’s mouth to place her high on my list of suspects. Sure, she’s sweet, kind, and thoughtful, but hey, isn’t it always the innocent ones that are most guilty?

And finally, there’s Deb. My “there-there” friend, I call her. Because no matter how distraught I may be over any given subject, Deb’s reassuring manner is like hot chicken soup on a cold winter day. But really, how well do we ever truly know a person? When I talked to Deb on the phone last week, she still had a hoarse, raspy voice, evidence of The Bug she’d been battling all month.

Here’s my theory.

What if my “there-there” friend somehow learned how to transmit cooties over fiber-optic cables? What if she wants to contaminate not just me, but eventually the entire world in her undying quest for world domination? What if the devious Deb is --OH MY GAWD -- ground zero for THE BUG?

I may be slightly feverish.

And just maybe imbibing in too much NyQuil.
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