Go On and Dream / Your House is On Fire

Holy Crap These People Know My Mom



An LJ friend sent me the link to this site. I think it's pretty brilliant.

Enjoy, kids.

In Other News, my favoritest book that I have raved about here, A Million Little Pieces, is apparently A Million Gigantic Embellishments. Now I loved the book because of the style, not because it inspired me to go into rehab or anything (Pish! Posh! Whatevs. Rehab is for quitters), but it does lose a little something when you feel you've been lied to. I think we all eye our parents a little bit funny once we learn that the Tooth Fairy and Santa are total bullshit (sorry for the spoiler, for those of you unaware of that). Maybe that's why we all leave the nest. You just can't trust or look at them the same way after that:

"But Santa had different handwriting!"

"It was all part of the lie."

"Dear God, is anything REAL anymore!?"

[Welcome to your first existential crisis. You're 9 years old, you can't even spell it, but what you are facing, my young friend, is what you will lovingly refer to as "the void" in coming years. Generally, while you're wearing all black and smoking Parliaments. I know. You will be that lame. Hate to burst another one of your bubbles. You'll also think you know Existentialism because you read the Cliff Notes version of The Stranger and No Exit. But you will spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to spell AND pronounce Nietzsche--I just went through it twice. Welcome to the Big Kid's Table. Enjoy the food poisoning.]

Anyhoozits, it kinda bummed me out. My friend Chris wrote an amazing blog in the style of James Frey. Enjoy. I still love that book, but with the new "Oops, maybe I lied a whole lot" I can see the outside perspective on how ridiculously it can be interpreted.

I'm back on the job. Even Dr. House couldn't come up with anything more interesting than Strep Throat. But, at least, that means I get Penicillin instead of just trying to drink more water than all the seas. I already mentioned that I HATE waiting for viruses to pass. Why do we even have doctors, then, if they're not going to give us drugs that fix us? I know, I know, we all overmedicate too much. But the damage is done and that's my mind set, so get out your little prescription pad and give me something that will make me happy. And if it can't make me happy, make me think that it MIGHT make me happy and that's just as good.

This is the little bugger that's been making its home in my throat:



Hope you enjoyed, because you are about to get your ass beat down. And I would like to swallow again (leave the sexual innuendo behind, folks. I snicker enough at it myself).

Apparently, the firm is dropping like flies with it, too. Two of my coworkers and my boss have been struck down with it as well. Oh, the tangled web we weave, when at first we don't use our Sick Leave.

We wind up taking everyone with us.

But I am less like Zombie and more like Human with each day (and more importantly, each pill) and should be Little Miss Sunshine in no time at all. Except for the fact that I was never Little Miss Sunshine, but I think that might be one of the side effects of Nyquil and Penicillin. Drugs are awesome.