NOTE: I wrote this while my Tylenol Cold Remedy is kicking in, so read at your own risk. For the record, my cat, Bently, suggested I write about his butt but, in a rare moment of non-medicine-induced clarity, I passed. I’ll advise to my condition vis-a-vis my cat later.
I feel really happy. Don’t ask me why because, honestly, I should be ready to put my first through aw all because of this cold. The fact is I have taken a cold remedy which is probably loaded with enough chemicals to corrode a horseshoe, but it’s doing just fine swimming around in my stomach.
Colds suck. Simply put, they are the natural scourge of the thinking man. When I get a cold, the last thing I want to think about is putting my hands on a keyboard. My hands crave a warm bed, a nice pillow, and the joys of Dreamland. Right now, my nose feels like a third grader played a prank on me and stuffed several containers of play-doh in my sinus cavities. To top it all off, if you squeezed my lungs, several quarts of mucus would like come dripping out.
There are days I wonder why we can’t simply remove our organs and dust them off? Why can’t we hook our brains up to a computer and do diagnostics? Just wipe out the bad memories and conserve the good ones? Why can’t we optimize our bodies using the technology at our disposal. The simple fact is, we can put a man on the moon, but we can’t cure the common cold. WTF, Chuck?”
Yes, usually I reserve this blog for lighthearted, semi serious stuff and occasional political rants, but this is an exception to the rule. Instead of joining the delusion, i am feeling delusion. My cat killed a rat today, which grossed me out a bit but I still managed to pick it up in a plastic bag and chuck it into the outside trash can.
I caught up on my Transformers watching, taking in “Dark of the Moon” today and was thoroughly agitated by the notion that Leonard Nimoy would play a Prime who looked like a red-colored version of one of the Village People, while one of the “Wreckers” look like a pot-bellied Autobot with a scottish accent, but transforms into a machine-gun weilding Target race car? Come on, Michael Bay…you can do better. I hope to God that “Age of Extinction” is better because, honestly, the notion of Optimus Prime riding Grimlock makes me think back to when the annoying robot Wheelie rode Grimlock in the ’86 animated version of the movie Somehow, however, I can’t see Grimmy saying “Me Grimlock kick butt!”
Now considering how I’m feeling, it would be pretty cool to miniaturize a few Dinobots and let them tail-whip a few of these common cold viruses kicking my ass. Oh, and Flash Fiction Friday took a minor hiatus while I’ve been ramping up my “house husband” role…it’ll return this coming Friday…promise!