You know what would be fantastic? Is if it didn't hurt to type.
So what hurts on you today, those of you doing this ridiculous 30-day Shrek action? For me it's the tops of my arms and my neck. Because the part where she says we don't involve our necks in the ab work is apparently a bunch of poppycock.
Have you ever had that stuff? Poppycock? With the carmel corn and the peanuts? Doesn't that sound delicious?
You know what else hurts today? My throat. It hurt yesterday, too, and I am irritated. I cannot be getting ANOTHER COLD a week before I start my new job. One of the side effects of my migraine med is sore throat, though, so I could just be dying from my meds. Let's hope so.
Speaking of which, I am having a red-letter day today, whatever that means. I get to go to the headache clinic and have TWO HOURS of medical testing and questioning and so forth, because I am part of a drug test for a new migraine med they are trying.
As part of my hypochondria, I happen to love medical tests and questions. It makes me feel more secure when someone is prodding at me and looking at my insides and such. When I was at the headache clinic six weeks ago, they did all sorts of bloodwork on me, and they called me after to say my suds or my seds or my something reading was up, which could mean I have lupus or cancer but also it could mean I have a cold. Did I have a cold when they took my bloodwork, they wondered?
If you are keeping a huge calender titled, "June's Illnesses," you already recall that in early May I did indeed have a gigantic cold going on and I felt like dung. So I'm trying to ignore the part where I might have lupus or cancer and I'm going with the cold part.
Now today they are probably going to run the same test and guess whose throat hurts. Psychosomatic illness? Me?
Anyway, for six months I am going to take this experimental medication only during my womanly cycle, and by that I mean I have a pink bike with lavender flowers on it. And the best part is, they PAY ME to do this! I get tons of medical testing and prodding every month and THEY pay ME!
It doesn't get any better than this. Unless Barry Gibb got his medical degree and has moved to Greensboro.
I don't know how to ride a bike. Did you know that about me? I learned how and I forgot. Yes, I do know the saying. It is a bunch of poppycock.
Really, Poppycock was just an expensive, prize-inside-free version of Cracker Jack, wasn't it? But it was better. Plus, the prizes in Cracker Jack have gotten decidedly bad over the years. When I was a kid they used to be good.
Okay, I cannot type anymore because it hurts. And I know you wish I'd ramble on needlessly some more.