Smashed Assholes

So I'm sick, right?  Got some sort of plague (again).  I get it.  I'm probably not looking my best right now, but I swear to, like, something really powerful -- like a really big chainsaw -- that if one more person at work says something along the lines of, "Wow.  You don't look so good."  Or, "You look like you're going down for the count."  I'm going punch them in the vagina.  Even if they don't have one.

I GET IT!

When I first got to work this morning I was greeted with, "You sound awful, but you look nice."  DID YOU HEAR THAT, OTHER CO-WORKERS?  Either you say something nice or you say nothing at all!  (...no vagina punching for that guy.)

Since I haven't been able to taste anything since Sunday night-ish, my challenge to TASTE ALL THINGS is going by the wayside.  It happens.  I tried.  I don't have the energy to shop or cook or eat anything but carbs.  I don't really move much more than necessary or try make myself look presentable (apparently).  I'll have to eat more things in December.  I don't see that being much of a problem.  Food, good.

It's 8:00.  The very minute the clock strikes 8:30, I am taking two NyQuil and going to bed.

NyQuil. ♥

P.S.  I promise I won't turn this into a Blog of GIFS.  It's a passing attraction.  It will, uhh, pass.