I’m in pain, ya’ll. Serious pain. Seems like all my lollipop eating has given me a nasty case of strep.
(Tangent: when I was at urgent care yesterday, a college-aged girl came in and a made a hasty move to the bathroom while her boyfriend answered some questions at the front desk. What was wrong with the poor thing? Too much to drink last night. As someone who is well-versed in the physical and psychic pain of the hangover, I’m telling you, urgent care cannot do a fucking thing to make you want to live again. Calling in food poisoning to work? Check. Ice chips? Check. Laying naked on your cool, tiled bathroom floor? Check. Throwing up into a trashcan? Check. Self-pity? Check. A self-administered IV? Check. Don’t burden our one-legged medical system with a hangover, lady. You will learn this soon.)
Anyway, I am sicksicksick right now and fearful that I won’t be up for Tuesday’s day-long celebration of our man B. Obama (and the brief moment of booing and mooning R. Warren). I mean, fuck, I already had my ball gown picked out! That said, I don’t feel the least bit able to tell whale jokes, much less entertain through the pitter-patter of my stubby fingers. (It’s true. My fingers in no way match my giant personality/balls.)
SO, turns out that at least a couple of you were entertained by my sister’s guest entry and the (deleted) blog by my friend Laura. Thus, while I recover, I’m inviting anyone and everyone to guest blog. You can be anonymous or not and I promise to post anything you send me, appropriate for the nursing home/Santa’s workshop/inaugural ball or not. Promise.
Email submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Addendum: Does anyone know if it’s okay to eat pizza whilst strepy? I need something to look forward to. Every healthy dyke in the First World is watching the demise of Jenny Schecter with a stockpile of wife-beaters and Subarus and Miller Lite tonight and I’m stuck here with vaggie soup and used tissues. Please say I can at least have pizza.