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12.29.2002 - 4:08 p.m.

Sunday

I don't mean to be gross, but exactly how much snot can a human head produce? I mean, I feel like I've got a UPS truckload of mucus up my nose. I'm blowing major wads of crud every .0002 minutes. There are crumpled Kleenexes filling every wastebasket in the house, and I just took out all the garbage this morning.

Ah, the head cold. The way you mainline various medications which keep you in a constant blurred state of stupidity ("Huh?"). The vacant, trailer-park expression you get from having your mouth hanging open all the time in order to breathe. The sensation of pressure building in your skull, abated slightly each time you fill an entire tissue with what appears to be the special effects goo they used in Alien.

It's getting boring, frankly. Last night JB idly asked from the living room, "Hey babe, what are you doing?" I snapped (nasally), "Well, JB, in a shocking turn of events I am BLOWING MY NOSE. Although I have blown my nose approximately fourteen times in the last 5 minutes, I know it must be a real surprise to hear this."

Lucky for me we rented Men In Black 2 last night. By lucky, I mean at least I could leave the room and honk away in peace without worrying I was going to miss something good. I don't know how they managed to fuck up something as cookie cutter as doing a second Men In Black, but they sure did. The talking dog? Not funny. Lara Flynn Boyle? Took the part way too seriously. Also, sucked. Tommy Lee Jones with tears glittering in his eyes in that one scene? Shame on you.

While I've been occupied lately, as I think I've made abundantly clear, alternately filling up with and expelling disgusting fluids, JB has a new Xbox game. It's some kind of car racing thing, which is less annoying than the rapid gunfire/dying moans of Halo, but Very Annoying Nonetheless. There is this navigator guy that talks to you while you're zooming your racecar around various tracks. The point of this is to drive faster than you can actually see ahead of you. So the guy, with this vague Brit accent, is constantly talking. "Soft right. Clear ahead. Hard left. Medium left into hard right. CAUTION. EXPOSURE."

Me: "Can't you tell that guy to shut his fucking piehole for once?"
JB: "Babe, I need him. He's the navigator."

I happen to have hard evidence that Xbox is bad for you. Take a moment to view these shots of JB's brother Joe.

Before - a healthy, tanned, strapping young lad able to forage in the woods for his meal.

 

After - a doomed man stripped of his very soul.

 

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0 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

yay, diaryland