I'm slow.

[thatdamnedkid]

Wheneber I get thick (I hab a code), someone asks me why I don't take any medicine. I usually give some bullshit about not beleiving in it, or some macho answer making much of my indifference to pain and discomfort. Truth is, though, that pain hurts, and discomfort isn't really all that pleasant. I'm just allergic to cough syrup. Or at least it isn't worth the potential hell of finding out whether I am actually allergic, so I might as well be. The only thing I can take is Nyquil, and since the point of that is passing out, it's only useful for being less expensive (though less enjoyable than a bottle of wine or two. But I digress. I would really like to be able to take some Robitussin right now, but I don't want to bad enough to risk having to go to the ER covered in hives. Or are they boils? I wasn't nearly lucid enough at the time to remember what they were called, and they might have been speaking in Spanish anyway, which would make my memory just that more unreliable. I was in the tub covered in ice water at the time, in a pretty large amount of pain. All I really remember was that I was bawling, and I was used to cracking my skull open on a fairly regular basis at the time, so I probably meant it. I had nightmares for years afterwards about interminability, and now that I think about it, this might have been the cause. I was a slow kid. It's taken over twenty years to figure this one out. I guess that's what I get for living in the present. I'm still proud of myself for figuring out where the nightmares featuring Portugese sailors with large metal staples for arms came from. Right after my grandparents came back from Portugal. Bearing gifts. Which included a toy boat. With toy sailors. With arms made from staples. Like I said, slow. So where was I? Yes, in a bathtub, covered in ice water, looked over by a doctor who was a family friend in the middle of Colombia. Telling my mother that I was either allergic to Robitussin, or I had something called fifth disease. It's the fifth of the childhood rash diseases, and the doctor made the mistake of mentioning Scarlet Fever in front of my mom (which my great-aunt had a really bad case of as a kid around in the twenties). This one isn't supposed to be a big deal, so they guessed that my rather extreme reaction probably had to do with the cough syrup I had taken earlier. I'm so slow, I never even just took cough syrup to get out of going to school as a kid.

As a completely random note, someone at the Halloween party last night went dressed as a "punk", wearing a designer dress, heels, and long straight hair. But, y'know, she had a fake lip ring in. B-school people just don't get it. It was pretty funny later in the evening once she was trashed, though. The lip-ring came out, and she was looking for it on the floor when she found a safety pin instead. Someone grabbed her before she jabbed it through her lip. Shame, that would've been cool.