these thoughts.
these feelings.
these ideas.
how do i sort them?
how do i separate the real ones from the exaggerations?
how do i know?
why does this road feel like its narrowing?
hold me?

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For NFL fan whose teams have not make it to play this day, it was a day of mourning of sorts, but still a day to be proud. ACME today was full of Eagles shirts. At Wing Street we saw a poor lonely purple jersey cloaking a very depressed looking Vikings fan carrying home 2 pizzas.
The game itself was pretty exciting for not really caring who won, especially the first half. The rain made the whole affair a little more of a challenge, and I like to see both sides struggle for control. For a while I wondered if maybe the Colts had hired inept stuntmen to play in their stead, but they eventually realized they were, indeed, playing int he Superbowl, and their performance greatly improved.
The halftime show was a bit disappointing. I've grown accustomed to having not only one former star who refuses to die, but also a strange hodgepodge cocktail of current stars to support him. Where were the Brittney Spears and Tim McGraw combos? Where were well...anything but Prince covering the Foo Fighters? I did think that the silhouetted image of Prince with his symbol shaped guitar illuminated on a giant, air-raised sheet....made him look like he had a giant hooked cock..there, I said it. The orchestra didn't play much, but they got to thrash dance their instruments around. I did notice ONE kid who had no blacklight responsive piping on his uniform. He must have had mono that day. All in all, I kept expecting something more to happen, and it didn't. For shame, Pepsi halftime show, for shame.
The second half of the game wasn't really as exciting as the first, but it wasn't too bad. My square didn't win me any money, but I didn't really expect it to. I had some pretty hoop dreamed numbers. They would've required an improbable amount of safeties. Oh well, maybe someone won something. Oh ya...the Colts won the Superbowl. Hah.

That's it. Carry on.

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so i went to work today...my fever came down to a safer temperature, so i bit the bullet and went in..not that i felt appreciated for it when i got there...jesus, today was a day of impatient, outright nasty people...i missed my bus, so i stayed on the clock an extra 45 minutes and made us $200.

i got home, myspace STILL wont let me on (my cookies ARE enabled you whore!), and i started feeling sick again. suddenly i felt extremeley lonely and emotionally displaced. chris is out, no ones online, the myspace thing kinda sent me over the ledge of reason...then i cried because i was a pathetic loser crying over myspace. grrr...

so here i am...my temperatures back up to 100...im sore, im cranky...im lonely...bad combination, folks. im sorry if i lash out at you.

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I reached the pinnacle (thus far) of my sickness today.

I wake up feeling sore...everywhere. From there I discover nausea and a headache to top the richter scales, accompanied by coughing fits that make my brain joggle around in my skull. These coughing fits do two things. One, they make the soreness turn from annoying to almost unbearable, meaning I almost cry, pass out, or scream. Two, I am now convinced theres a tiny fluffy kitten stuck in my chest, and he is vehemently trying to claw his poor little way out of my solar plexus. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to talk, and it hurts to cough...and EVERYTHING makes me cough. Somehow I manage to make it through a six hour shift with only relative issues. My photography was off due to a combination of feeling like death-on-a-stick and a couple really hectic children. I like how my photography and work in general is only discussed when there are problems. I also like how when I have a good sitting the praise is lavished on the person who made the sale. I don't mind my inconsistencies being brought o my attention, I only ask for equal acknowledgment that I also produce beautiful work, and that sittings do not always give me the opportunity to make everything perfect. If the block was the only thing keeping him IN the box before he threw it out, I can't help that it remained on the floor next to the box for the brief time he smiled and stayed put.

But I digress....
I get home and immediately go to bed, where I sleep until Chris wakes me up to go with him to the grocery store. We spend an hour at ACME....an excrutiatingly painful hour I might add..A couple times I almost sit on the floor until someone decided to carry me home in a shopping cart, but I stick it out, and finally we make it home.

If I thought I could sleep, or that lying down wouldn't cause further pain, I's go back to bed. I told Chris I'd cook ravioli tonight, but I'm not sure it's going to happen. Sorry, hunny.

*coughhackcough* out.

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sorry i havent had much drive to post lately...
this depression hump is affecting EVERYTHING!
at least the state agreed to buy us groceries today...

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Earlier today I take the dog out to play in the snow. There's a guy driving by in the parking lot who apparently thinks the 20+ feet he already has aren't enough, because he won't pass until he has the foot and a half I seem to be taking up. So, I step onto the grass for a second, right onto a big pile of dog shit because the people in our complex are assholes who can't pick up after their dogs. Great. I come upstairs and put the shoe in the shower until I can get to it.
The day passes, I almost forget about the shoe until I get ready to take a shower. Ok, I figure I can clean it before I shower. The poo has now formed a rock layer in the tread, but a little toilet paper should do the trick. I would just soak it in a little water, but the sink has been clogged for a week from Chris and Chad shaving, and no one but me seems to notice. Great. I go to get the toilet paper Chad keeps in the medicine cabinet, but it won't open because since he's added his stuff to the cabinet not only is it full to capacity, but there's no organization to it because his things keep moving. Wonderful. The door won't budge.
As I start to try to work the door open, the track starts to pull up, and the left sliding door pops out of the track. This can't be good, I think to myself, and start to ponder whether or not to try and fix it, or maybe slide it over so it doesn't fall out. As I'm doing this, I reach for the toilet paper because, well, my shoe is still covered in shit. As SOON as my hand clears the cabinet the left sliding door frees itself from the track and plummets towards both my face and the dog, who is haunched up intently watching the goings-on.
I scream, because I'm startled, kick the dog out of the way, and pull us both back against the door as we're showered with shattering glass. I'm still not sure how the both of us escaped uncut, but we seem to be intact. Once I got some clothes on and got all the glass swept (sweeping glass off a tiled floor is not an easy task), I inspected his feet to make sure there was no glass stuck in his pads. They seem to be ok, but all it takes is a tiny sliver. There were no traces of blood, so I think he's alright. Still, I'm a little shaken up and pissed off that it took up such a large chunk of my night.
I finally got my shower...and now I'm thinking bed soon....

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