KLAU KALASH. CRAB JUICE.

No, I didn't watch the SOTUA. I was too busy trying not to choke on my own sputum in my sleep.

J. brought me hot lemon with honey, and one of those Vicks face steamers. Chuuu! He so nice. I wuv him. Now he gonna make me a nice horseradish sammich.

My dad won't shut up. :P
"Eat a ketchup-n-onion sammich, Siannan."
"Daddy, whyncha go off and decompose, okay?"
"Ya know, I used to go to my aunt Sadie's house, and eat these ginger peaches from her root cellar, and they always got rid of a cold."
"Daddy, aunt Sadie was dead like, a million years before I was born. If you want to materialize some fucking pickled peaches, be my guest, but let's keep the advice beyond the grave in the realm of the useful, ok?"
"Don't bother goin to the doctor. What's he gonna do fer you?"
"Finally, counsel I can use."
"You got too much lip."
"Says the dead guy."

(no subject)

I sound like Darth Vader, but with more mucous.

Like, the bastard by-blow of Darth Vader and John Merrick.

"*shhhrlllllllhack* I AM NOT AN ANIMAL *frlllssshhhhhrrrrlllkkkkk* I AM YOUR FATHER!"

(no subject)

This steam inhaler smells like elementary school. A rainy day in elementary school.

More precisely, it smells like the vinyl raincoat, Snoopy umbrella, and Mickey Mouse galoshes that I was made to wear on cold rainy days, and the way they would steam up in the heat of the school bus. Plasticky damp and uncomfortable. Worrying because my shoes always got stuck inside the boots when I tried to take them off.

Trivia: I was not allowed to learn how to tie my shoes until age 7. Yes, you read that right. Why? Fuck knows.

(no subject)

*grunt*

I want to eat today. Maybe some yogurt, and a nice bowl of onion soup. No cheese please. I couldnt eat the sandwiches J. made yesterday. I took two bites and I just couldn't.

See why I have a big hate hardon for those Shiny Happy Anorexics? I WANT TO EAT BUT I CAN'T. FUCK YOU.

This starvation is going to wreak havoc on my behemothic (word?) figure. Now I'll never be a PLUS SIZED GOTHIC MODEL!

(no subject)

Why does my hair always do Especially Bad Things when I'm ill?

Right now it has compressed into something like a felt ball. Nasty. I also can't find any of my detangling combs so I can start working on it.

This is why I can never go dread, people. One ratwad at the nape of my neck does not make for Good Nattiness.

(no subject)

Bettie's still got it at 80.

You GO, Bettie!