Little Miss Perkypants

You guys! I am feeling better!

Yesterday after sleeping for about 14 hours straight under the influence of some hard-core narcotic cough syrup, I woke up feeling significantly better than I did on Wednesday. I felt so much better, in fact, that I was accused of being perky yesterday.

And then I was called perky again today, by a completely different person in a completely different situation. And you know what? I AM perky* today. This is awesome.

I’m still coughing some, especially at night, but I expect that will continue for another day or two. In the meantime, feeling this much better means I have graduated to a new level of assholery. Formerly, I was the Whiny Sickie Asshole, and now I’m the New Lease On Life Asshole. This is probably a bit unfortunate, because other people I know are getting sick, and it’s probably my fault for exposing them to my germs. But they say they don’t feel well and I’m like, “Aw, I’m sorry you’re feeling bad! That sucks! Hey by the way, did I mention that I’m getting better?! And that I feel great?! I do! I feel great! I think I’m going to go swimming today! And walk around! And eat solid food! Awesome! I feel awesome! I AM AWESOME!”

And then God smites me by making me cough for the next ten minutes.

I attribute my success in not dying from a cold to the following:

  • Throat Coat tea, ramen noodles, and ice cream – my staples for the last few days
  • Finally getting several hours of Nyquil and/or hydrocodone-influenced sleep
  • Aspirin, which worked better than anything else for the throat pain.

I will tell you a secret: it’s probably really just the whole 7-10 days thing my doctor told me, as it has been exactly 10 days since I started to feel crappy, and I currently feel so awesome that I might punch you in the face (nicely!) just to show you how much energy I have right now. But that would mean that my doctor knows what he’s doing, and although I love him, I can’t very well admit that he knows more than I do, so instead I like to think that my psychotically superstitious routine of Throat Coat tea and pickle juice gargling was what made me get better. Because, see, if I’m really melodramatically sick and I start to notice an improvement anywhere in the vicinity of something I’ve done, then I decide that whatever I did is the reason and I start to do it all the time. If I started to feel better shortly after tripping and falling down the stairs, I’d probably trip and fall down the stairs four times a day until I was completely over the cold. That makes tons of sense, doesn’t it?

So anyway, yeah. I’m back in the land of the living. Back like a heart attack, bitches.

*There is no chance whatsoever that I’m this perky because I’m still hopped up on and/or loopy from cold medicine. No sirree.

11 Replies to “Little Miss Perkypants”

  1. Oh, lovely. Glad you’re back.

    I quote Belle & Sebastian, who I suspect had the same energy level as you the day they penned this line: “I was so touched I was moved to kick the crutches from a crippled friend. …”

    Happy ’bout the state you’re in,

  2. wow, cK, I never paid attention to that line enough to catch waht they were saying. i can’t figure out if i love it more now, or if i now kinda hate you for pointing it out. :-)

    also lorie, i need to mention that i am sad that i wasn’t around for the transition to the watermelon template, because you know full well that i would have made the requisite “nice melons” joke.

    speaking of requisite…stuff, it is time for my annual “i am going to homecoming and you should, too” naggery.

  3. Jim.. I think in an effort to twart off any such melon comments lorie made a wise layout choice… for if you look closely, the only appropriate comment one could meake is… nice melon slices, or nice melon wedges… neither of which have quite the punch of a good ole “nice melons” … alas

  4. Good news! That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Nice melon wedges, by the way…

  5. “perkypants” reminds of the pubescent affliction teenage boys are struck with during math class, right before the bell rings.

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