Comotized.Com

Bronchitis is the devil.

I’m convinced and you can not change my mind.

I’d rather be attacked by a pig and have swine flu than this.

At least I can breathe when I have the flu.

As it stands I have a nice little wheezing noise with every breath I take, my head feels like a field full of cotton fluff and I can’t, for the life of me, breathe out of my nose.

I might also mention that my temperature is up, my cloths are sticking to me, my body is one giant shaking ache and I’m a tad bit disoriented.

I do not like bronchitis sam I am, I can not eat your green eggs and ham. I would make a valiant attempt but I’m afraid I would die from lack of oxygen.

Ah the joys of the sick season… fuck you bronchitis!

I’ve been meaning to blog for quite some time but life is hectic and there’s far too much on my mind to get anything worthwhile into a post.

Lots of stress and drama with a few good things thrown into the fray. My mind just isn’t in the blogging format these days. It basically consists of pushing the bad things to the back of my brain hoping they’ll magically rot into decaying nothingness. Forcing my mind on other topics that are more suited to happiness and relaxation which brings to mind a single topic but that’s a topic I’m not ready to divulge just yet.

But oh it is a wonderful topic and never ceases to bring a smile to my face and a sparkle to my eye.

I’m not abandoning my blog, I’m just waiting for my mind to collect itself in a manor that’s more blog-worthy. It’s bound to happen, I just can’t say when or how that will be.

For anyone interested in keeping tabs on me, try joining Plurk“>Plurk. I post there at least once a day, I’m not so big on twitter so I don’t suggest looking for me there. You could also contact me using one of the methods listed on the contact page.

After hitting another dent in his love life my oldest brother slammed the question: “why are all women whores?” in my direction.

Personally I don’t believe that all women are whores but it is a fact that nine out of ten women in my area are.

Still that kind of question doesn’t have an easy answer, I have boobs but I can’t speak for the entire population so rather than try to give a serious answer I simply replied with:

“Because our orgasms are better.”

I meant it to be amusing but after I thought about it it does make a little bit of sense. We can get multiples on a good day and ours last longer so there was more truth to what I said than I realized and I do have to stop and wonder, is that part of the reason some women cheat?

I’ll never know for a fact why any person would choose to cheat but it does make you wonder.

For the past few months I’ve been having major vision problems due to allergies. Not pollen or animal allergies but.. smelly stuff allergies.

I share an apartment with my mother who just doesn’t seem to understand the concept that I’m allergic to overly smelly things. Glade plugins and anything vanilla are my two worst allergy causers. Though real vanilla doesn’t bother me, I can even eat and digest it normally. I just can’t smell the man-made smelly kind.

So off and on my eyes have been swelled shut, watering, burning, itching, my nose dripping like a faucet or stopped up to the point where I look like I’m in constant awe of something in order to collect oxygen in my lungs.

I knew this morning when I woke up that she’d put something new in the apartment as I couldn’t see anything and focusing was out of the question. Hell, my vision is still impaired at the moment and it’ll be a few hours before it comes back to me in full swing but at least I’m not hurting anymore.

I searched the apartment top to bottom to find the smelly implant she’d left to no avail, thank god she stumbled (not literally) home a little bit ago and I interrogated her forcing her to reveal the plugin hiding spot behind a wing-backed chair in her bedroom.

The label you ask? French vanilla.. my two worst allergy causers rolled into one evil plugin.

I really hope she’ll figure out she cant keep burning those things around me. It’s so bad that the contraptions can’t be anywhere in the apartment, not even in the living room. They straight up fuck me up, for lack of better words and terminology.

Glade – kiss my ass, you make evil things for mentally unstable people to torture me with *growls*

And yes, my mother is mentally unstable, quite literally but that’s a story, or should I say novel series, for another day.

For now I’m just happy to be able to see, let’s see how long it lasts before she drags something new home this time.