Mad Endangered Eating Skills.
The trouble with pseudoephedrine (aka sudafed), is that it's making me facking froid.
I took some around 1700hrs today to quash the springtime sinus issues I seem to have obtained.
I say this because I have, for years, refused to accept the possibility of my having allergies. So there.
Anyhow, I was out today and it was abnormally cold for the cusp of May, walking home post-setting sun.
I've been back for over 2.5 hours and I still have no feeling in my hands.
How this relates to sinus medication is this:
Pseudoephedrine, as well as being a stimulant, tends to lock blood into the core of the body, leaving the limbs nigh defenseless against the ravages of freak cold snaps at the end of april.
It's been five hours, but this shit stays with me for aeons. I'm willing to bet my pupils are large enough to drive a mack truck through. Postie grade mack truck only plz.
_______________________________
Earlier this evening, as martin and I sat deciding which of the passersby were appropriate to lure into a gorge in the savanna and send a behemoth herd of wildebeest after, I said something that sent us into gut-busting guffaws, which, upon review, isn't particularly funny.
I don't recall the context but Martin had suggested consuming endangered eagle species as part of a balanced existence, to which I responded in my usual habit of tripping over words, that one would require some "Mad Endangered Eating Skills". O, the lame!
_______________________________
A prime example of Nick Cave's endangered lyric skills.
Excerpt from "Do You Love Me? Pt. 2"
The walls in the ceiling are painted in blood
The lights go down, the red curtains come apart
The room is full of smoke and dialogue I know by heart
And the coins in my pocket jingle-jangle
As the great screen crackled and popped
And the clock of my boyhood was wound down and stopped
And my handsome little body oddly propped
And my trousers ride down to my ankles
Yes, onward! And upward!
And I'm off to find love
Do you love me? If you do, I'm thankful
I took some around 1700hrs today to quash the springtime sinus issues I seem to have obtained.
I say this because I have, for years, refused to accept the possibility of my having allergies. So there.
Anyhow, I was out today and it was abnormally cold for the cusp of May, walking home post-setting sun.
I've been back for over 2.5 hours and I still have no feeling in my hands.
How this relates to sinus medication is this:
Pseudoephedrine, as well as being a stimulant, tends to lock blood into the core of the body, leaving the limbs nigh defenseless against the ravages of freak cold snaps at the end of april.
It's been five hours, but this shit stays with me for aeons. I'm willing to bet my pupils are large enough to drive a mack truck through. Postie grade mack truck only plz.
_______________________________
Earlier this evening, as martin and I sat deciding which of the passersby were appropriate to lure into a gorge in the savanna and send a behemoth herd of wildebeest after, I said something that sent us into gut-busting guffaws, which, upon review, isn't particularly funny.
I don't recall the context but Martin had suggested consuming endangered eagle species as part of a balanced existence, to which I responded in my usual habit of tripping over words, that one would require some "Mad Endangered Eating Skills". O, the lame!
_______________________________
A prime example of Nick Cave's endangered lyric skills.
Excerpt from "Do You Love Me? Pt. 2"
The walls in the ceiling are painted in blood
The lights go down, the red curtains come apart
The room is full of smoke and dialogue I know by heart
And the coins in my pocket jingle-jangle
As the great screen crackled and popped
And the clock of my boyhood was wound down and stopped
And my handsome little body oddly propped
And my trousers ride down to my ankles
Yes, onward! And upward!
And I'm off to find love
Do you love me? If you do, I'm thankful