...And Then Everything Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

So my brother just called - said he has front-row seats, backstage passes and tickets to the after-party...for Destiny's Child. I said, "That sucks."

Turns out he was totally kidding anyway, but still, my initial response was, "I'm sorry."

And what a thing to perpetrate on a divorce-addled sickie! If he had said, well, basically any band other than Destiny's Child, I'm ashamed to say that he may have sent my adrenalin pumping. I'm at that "denial" stage of being sick where it could go either way. I'm like, "Sure, I'm feeling bad, but not bad enough to stay home!" When in actuality, yes, I am bad enough to stay home.

It was nice to be here, though. The weather is all socked in, cloudy and nice. And I got to see One Life to Live, which I haven't watched in like a year. It used to be a guilty pleasure when I lived closer to work. Instead of socializing at lunch I'd go home and watch what could possibly be the world's cheesiest soap. Today I found that two of the characters who died two years ago are suddenly back from the dead. And they're the original actors, which is a rarity. One returned to Earth in the body of a doctor - he left Llanview as a college student, came back as an M.D. Not bad! The other, in his original form and character, came back with some bandaids on his face and a few broken ribs. I want to know: where have these people been? Where do they go? Is there like an Island of Lost Soaps or something where they ride jet skis and live on breadfruit and speared fish until the producers call them back?

I didn't even make it through the entire hour.

I wound up sleeping most of today away. Made some cappellini with a ton of garlic and drank a carton of orange juice. And smoked cigarettes. Which is such the good idea when you're sick. Each one I'm like "that didn't feel good," and an hour later I'm back at it. I think at this point I am powerless to stop. My stress level is on Orange Alert and it's either reach for the Parliaments or my old friends Jack, Ben, and Jerry. So Parliaments it is. And I don't think that this particular juncture in my life is the appropriate time to give up a stress habit. I'll have to wait for my lungs to actually fall out of my body before I'm convinced that quitting is the right thing to do.

Coff, coff. Plunk. Oh...oops.