The cold from hell is finally abating

For those of you that have The Cold. I give you hope. The light you see glimmering at the end of the tunnel is not necessarily an oncoming train or “The Light” you’re supposed to go into when you die.

After two weeks of misery, today I’m finally feeling more like my old self.

This has been the worst cold or flu I’ve had in many years. And to add a little spice and variety to the wonder that the virus brought into my life. The damn thing was morphing as it progressed. It’s a tease too, I’d start to feel better, then wham! A whole new set of symptoms. Then about the time my body would get a handle on those symptoms, pow! Something completely new.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve been chilled to the bone with my teeth chattering in a sleeping bag, while the ambient temp in the house was 70° F. I spent a couple of days where I was too hot with the temp in the house at 65° F. I’ve had my joints ache so bad it was agony to move my legs. That was followed up with body wide cramping of all my muscles. Through it all, my sinuses were producing all manner of gothic horrors (I had a club handy just in case the kleenex started moving!) and the coughing and hacking left my already painful ribcage feeling like I’d been in a violent car accident.

How do I know I’m on the mend? The same way every man knows they’re getting over something… I’m thinking really dirty thoughts and want to just get NASTY.

Ladies, that’s the way we work… As we get sick we want to screw because we know we’ll feel better for a little while and if whatever we’re coming down with kills us, well at least we went out on a good note.

All men want to have an unseemly grin on our faces in our caskets. I personally want to have a dirty smirk so locked on my face that my mother would blush and my spouse can’t have it jackhammered off. I want my last hurrah to be etched on my face and so dirty that folks seriously consider a closed casket. For the sake of the children, don’t ya know.

Once we survive the disease, we want to screw to declare to the world that we’re awesome, victorious, and our genes are worthy. Besides it makes us feel better. ( are you seein a theme here?) Ya just have to picture a big silver back gorilla and you’ve got a snapshot of us and what makes us tick.

So, I’m off to pound my chest, or whatever else seems appealing.

Don’t give up hope, The Cold doesn’t last forever.

It just seems that way.

Balls!

The only good thing about being sick and running a fever is that the boys are hanging really low. Ironically, while the presentation is porn worthy, I have zero desire to engage in sexual activities.

TMI?

Probably!

I’ve spent the past 12 hours running high fevers, and generally napping in bed. At the moment, I feel a lot better. Either I cooked the germs… or my brain. I’m up at 3:00 letting the dog out and having myself a nice cup of tea.

Being up at this hour has it’s advantages. All my internet access is in the bonus time, the house is quiet and every once in a while you see something that you would have missed because you were asleep.

Tonight, I got to watch the moon set. When I first got up the moon, (It was full or dang near full) illuminated the deck and the trees so well that I could see everything in the back yard. While I was waiting for the dog to finish his thing, the moon started dipping below the mountain to the west and so I stood on the deck for a few minutes and watched.

yoga

I skimmed the news, waiting for dog #2 who is always on his own schedule to do his thing outside. I see the world continues to be an insane place. Lately it’s become laughable. Below are the items that jumped off the page at me

Yoga banned at a college (Honestly, I’ve got nothing… Tempest in a teakettle.)

Expressing your opinion at many colleges is now considered hate speech (Only if your opinion differs from the group consensus. The little snowflakes heads would explode if they read this blog)

Sushi

Eating Ethnic food is racist (I don’t know if this is only if you’re white or if eating food with ethnic origins different from yours is racist regardless of your skin color)

5 people have been shot… at a protest about a guy getting shot (Some media claim white supremacists were the shooters. Really? The media needs to look up the definition of white supremacist. Just because someone happens to be white doesn’t mean they’re a supremacist.)

clockboy

Clock Boy is butthurt and demanding 15 million to make him feel better. (Weren’t he & his family moving to Qatar?)

Gender specificity in stores like Target and Toys R Us is wrong. So where do I look for jock straps, and catcher’s cups? Just askin…

My cup of tea is finished, time to go back to bed.

It appears that I am going to die… just not today, and not from this cold.

3AM

Also known as, “The Soul’s Midnight” 

It’s that time of night (morning) that can either be a whole lot of fun if you’re fucking around with someone or a group of someones, and a good time is being had by all or when you’re heading home from somewhere you shouldn’t have been. (To paraphrase Garth Brooks)

Luckily in my life I’ve had both of those situations. I’ve been toying with a book of rules to observe if you’re involved with the latter.  


Not my Brand

Helpful hint: Shower, YES! Make sure you bring your own brand of soap and don’t scrub your pits. You can scrub the skank off your nether regions and body leaving them fresh as a daisy, don’t bother with your hair or pits because after a hard day at work you aren’t supposed to smell like you just stepped out of a shower.

On the other hand you don’t want the smell of someone else’s perfume on you when you snuggle into bed with your spouse. This method splits the difference leaving you smelling just about like you should.

If you forget, and scrub all over, all is not lost. Have a nice long J/O session in your car, after you get off, relax a few minutes and let your natural smell develop. Just don’t get caught by the local cops looking for perverts.

If on the other hand you’ve forgotten your normal brand of soap… Brother, You’re on your own and may God have mercy on your soul.


Angel of Death

The Urban dictionary defines Soul’s Midnight a bit differently than I do.

Soul’s Midnight

3AM; more specifically when clubs close and everyone eating at 24-hour diners should vacate lest they be subjected to the deluge of belligerent glitter-covered drunkards and party girls exiting said clubs.
If it’s 2:58, you’re fine. If it’s 2:59, start running. You don’t want to be in the Denny’s parking lot for Soul’s Midnight.

My primary definition has an older, darker, meaning. This was the time of night when hospital staff noticed more people died.

There are other possibilities for why you might be up at this hour.

afterparty

You could be a bartender coming home from a your shift.  <— Count your money AFTER you’ve gotten home.

You could be awakened by a dog who needs to go out <— Not so bad, way better than waking up to a mess.

You could wake up from a nightmare and decide after tossing & turning from the adrenaline hit that you might as well just get up. Not so much from the adrenaline but because your brain rebooted in the full ON position and you’re unable to stop thinking about the shit that has you worried.

Sadly, it’s a combination of 2 and 3 on tonite’s agenda.

NPH

I’d woken up from a slight nightmare, and I think because a music playlist finished. I was just settling back to sleep when I realized the dog was at the side of the bed looking at me.

Okay pup, let me get something on; Dog has gone down the hall at a good clip; OR NOT. I haul my carcass out of bed, my naughty bits pulling up tight from the cold.

“Damn! what the hell is the temp in this place, 50 below?”

I open the door, the dog trots down the stairs into the backyard.  I wait for a minute or two but when the dog is heard ralphing I figure he’s going to be a while.

I close the door, I’m officially awake! 

I crank the thermostat to warm the house to something slightly warmer than the surface temperature of Pluto.

After trying the usual distractions, Here I sit.

I DONT NORMALLY WATCH PORN BUT WHEN I DO I DO IT LIVE

On the plus side I rediscovered a 3 hour long porn I’d forgotten about. I guess I should wander through the porn collection more often. This film has some fun scenes, and I think I’m going to dig out the DVD and re-rip it so that the scene markers are preserved. As it is now, all you can do with the file is fast forward. It might be nice to be able to use the “Next” scene function.

I like switching on porn at this hour because there’s nothing more celebratory of life, than ropey jets of cum shooting across a room. (paraphrasing that line, with thanks to Henry Rollins.) 

I popped out to some “On-line” hangouts some acquaintances are on late at night. No-one was up, or if they were they were, they were in private chats or fooling around in real life instead. So much for the live show and conversation.

I’d fire off the re-ripping of the DVD right now but I’d wake the rest of the household trying to find the thing, then I’d be listening for the drive to spin down signaling that the machine was finished.

I’m a little OCD about that kind of thing. I guess that the fear of the computer actually cooking while “cooking” on the task I set it keeps me cat napping instead of sleeping.

Nah, I’ll start that process tomorrow. 

So what to do now?

SteamingPileoPoo

Work at making ropey jets of cum??  I know as soon as I get into it, there will be a scratch at the door. Speaking of which, the dog should have been back by now. Ahh and of course the other dog wants out. 

Okay.

Oh Thanks #2 dog! Leaving poo neatly centered in the dirt right off the back stair, while qualifying as doing your business in the yard, means that I have to do Poo patrol before #1 dog comes back in and steps in it.  #1 doesn’t see very well at night anymore.

Not my preferred method of spending the hour between 3am and 4am but at least now I am looking forward to getting back into my nice warm bed and falling asleep.

Finish poo patrol. Turn off the lights. Lock the door. Head for bedroom.

#1 & #2 dogs are on their cushions asleep already. They’re snoring and as I step over them to get to my bed, they both give me the “Oh, you’re still up?” look.

Ya know Dogs…

Sometimes you guys are real jackasses!

I see a treat shortage in your immediate future.