Bluuuuuuuf. I feel horrible. I feel the worst anyone has ever felt.
I'm whining. I admit it, at least. This is happening. It's in my head, and if I were to speak, you would clap your hands over your ears and flee. I would not blame you! Flee! Flee while you still have the chance!
I'm not even sick. I am merely having Monthly Issues. Wherein my Girl Parts are causing Full-Body Malaise, Troubles, Low Moods, and So Forth.
I am typically only mildly troubled by such matters, so this is unusual, which is a good thing (for everyone else) because I really cannot take much more of this. My ARMS ache. How did my ARMS enter into this? Also my skin has exploded, which is especially fantastic seeing as how I have to do a video tomorrow and I will have to wear a shroud over my face, lest I terrify the viewers. A face shroud. Or I'll just have the editor (Scott) pixelate me. Can/will he smear petroleum jelly all over the digital-camera lens? We're going to find out!
It occurred to me today that as of the end of January, I have been writing this blog for (drumroll, please) (…no? No one has a drum handy? Fine) eight years. I should be celebrating this with some groundbreaking post that shows you how far I've come in all these years but all I can muster is this. This low-grade moaning. Booooooooooooarpg.
No, but really. I'm glad I'm still here, and that you're still reading! Who's the best? You are! [Imagine me shuffling toward you with my animal-fur-covered chenille throw wrapped around me, arms wide, wincing a little with each shuffle. Come here. Let me embrace you. I showered today!]
Here are two scraps of conversations that I was going to incorporate into posts but never could figure out how. But they make me laugh whenever I re-read them.
Me: [blah blah something something using the word "coterie"]
Jenny: I love it when people use that word, because then I can say, I know what coterie means, and I know how to spell it.
Me: It's important for people to know that you know how there's no "coat" in "coterie."
Jenny: There's not a y, neither. And I know that.
We went on like this for a while. Jenny saved me from the self-loathing that immediately kicked in after I used the word "coterie" in conversation. Thank God for her.
Me, talking about a certain reality TV show personality I may or may not have done a video with: She kept saying, "It's hot as balls in here."
Scott: Was it?
Me: It was definitely warm. But what does that mean, anyway? Are balls notoriously hot?
Henry: Of course they are. LOOK IT UP.
Thank you, Henry. I do not think I will look that up.