On Being Ill
So sorry for being away so long, but I assure you I have good reason. 1) I was in Massachusetts for several days last week. 2) I have brought home a Massachusetts cold as a souvenir. It wasn’t until I openly acknowledged this cold as being “wicked” bad that I was even able to start overcoming its phlegmy evil. Thusly, for the better part of this week I have been fluctuating between catatonic and minimal consciousness.
There were two things during this illness that compounded the horror or my ailment. First, the cable was out. Before you start calling me a whiner (which is well deserved), hear me out. The following is a study into how ridiculous our society has become with technology and cable television. (Remember, just 100 years ago a flu could kill you.)
It wasn’t even that all of the cable was out. I got the basic channels just fine. What was “out” were my local channels and any channel above 100, or “the digital channels.” So dire was my situation at being limited to only 75 channels that I called the cable company and demanded a refund for that day’s service as I was “sure as hell not going to pay their already outrageous prices for service that stinks like Satan’s armpit.”
Truthfully, I really don’t recall much of the conversation. All I am sure of is that I am not being charged for that day and that Vick’s NyQuil did most of the talking. I imagine the call was akin to the drunken 3am call to the first number you can find on your mobile phone. “You never believed in me! What about my dreams, man?! Did you think about that, huh?! …sigh… hickup… I love you, man.” I am sure the cable company will be using the recording of this call in future training sessions.
With my limited channel choices, I ended up watching The Price is Right. It was just like being sick back in elementary school, back in a time before cable TV. Also, a quick note on Bob Barker. I didn’t think much of his macho ways when I was little. Partly because it was the late 70s/early 80s and television was just schmarmy like that and party because I was too young to notice. But the contestant philandering must stop. Just plain ew.
Also, at some point I watch a movie called “The Perfect Score” about some kids who try to cheat the SATs. This too stunk like Satan’s armpit. It is entirely possible that I phased in and out during the movie, but I am positive the parts I imagined were the good parts.
Problem two – unintended cold turkey withdraws. In my weakened state, I was unable to have or make any coffee. For the few times I was awake, I would have this monster headache. I attributed it to the wicked bad cold. But last night my wife, Miranda Kopfschmertzen, was preparing coffee for herself for the following morning. Accidentally she started up the grinder for a moment. Just a brief moment. But my finely honed coffee sense detected its odor in the air, much like a shark can detect just one drop of blood in a million drops of water. Suddenly alarms, whistles and old timey bells went off in my head. A brother needed coffee something fierce. Soon, I will get that cup of coffee.
Finally we come to Zicam Cold Remedy Oral Mist – Mint! My wife, Miranda Kopfschmertzen, took wonderful care of me while I was ill. One of the things she had me take was this Zicam Cold Remedy. Whether it shortened the length of the cold or not who knows. Maybe. But the awesome thing is the “Mint” they claim this product will taste like. Because I have tasted this product. And I must admit there is a hint of mint in there. But first you must suffer through the distinct flavors of old cardboard and sheet metal before you find the mint.
If I have rambled on and/or offended you in any way…it was the Vick’s NyQuil typing.
You never believed in me! What about my dreams, man?! Did you think about that, huh?! …sigh… hickup… I love you, man.
Oh… I mean, yeah, mint, dude. Peace out. And macho stuff. (Sniffle)
Damn. My name never comes out right. You stingy bastard! What about my dreams?! Oh… I’ll just fix it… Nevermind…
I am too depressed to respond with something witty. As Miranda told you, Garbage is going on “permanent hiatus.” I may not even make it through the weekend. (Sniffle)
I thought it was the cranky-cold talking when the Zaicam was described as cardboard wrapped sheet metal, but I tried it and I can attest to the truthfulness of that descriptor. The truth is out there.