I didn’t go to work today.

I’m home with the double ugly triple inverted Ickky Yuks.

Or, at least I think that’s the technical name for it.

Not to be confused with the “yaks”, which is merely an onomatopoeic substitute for the more precise “technicolor yawn.”

I am queasy, though I’m so empty that a nonchalant dry heave is all I could expect to muster up.

I went to the office to get files to work on, but you know how that goes.

Meanwhile,  I can’t get my contacts in my eyes because they are so red, itchy, scratchy and running.

I can’t breathe through this throbbing proboscis.

My hacking dry cough contributes to the queasiness.

And, most of all, I feel like that coifed Nickles Bills-ite in the black Lexus who almost ran over me yesterday and then just sat crossways in the parking lot while she talked on her cell fucking phone actually DID run over me.  SOMETHING ran over me, of that I’m sure.

I only got 11 hours sleep yesterday, so I’m tired.

shut the fuck up.