So three days ago I felt like a train wreck. The day before yesterday, I felt like a multi-car pileup. Yesterday, I felt like a nasty highway accident. Today, I feel like a jarring collision with consequences to somebody's insurance premiums. Tomorrow: a fender bender? By Saturday, dare I hope, a dinged side mirror? And by Sunday, if I'm
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Poor Luther, having it given to him by anonymous fat man hands.
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Don't feel too bad for Luther. He knew what he was in for, and he set himself up for it.
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And:
Shiggins is never happier than when being used as a pillow. Imagine Home with a pizza, a beer, a yoohoo, a doughnut, and a fried chicken all at the same time. Then other times that cat succeeds in pushing both me and my large-sized boyfriend OUT OF BED. WHAT. HE IS NOT LARGE.
I am glad that you are starting to feel better!
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So, really, you picked the right week to be horribly horribly sick.
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I hadn't really realized I'd turned into a fuschia nut until this last weekend.
Hey, if you're getting better from the antibiotics, I guess that means you don't have mono, so double yay!
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No mono for me! I will not be breathing disease on the masses come Sunday, although I might still advise against getting a flashlight and looking at my tonsils real close.
Not that anybody was ever too excited by that prospect to begin with, but you know. General principles &c.
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