Through the dungeons cavernous gates and past the prickly tree’s
Down into the depths of darkness into my sinus cavity’s
There awaits a sound, a splutter from organs yet besieged.
My knights in shiny cytoplasm get ready for a sneeze.
I’m at the mucus stage of my sickness. This is a good thing from what I hear, but not a good thing for my clients. It’s not relaxing to get a massage from someone whose nose drips on them like Chinese water torture. But leave it to this girl to find a viable solution!
I’m not going to tell you my viable solution, you’ll only judge me and find me even more unsanitary than I already make myself out to be.
Why do people call napkins sanitary when they are the most unsanitary part of your undergarments?
It feel like little green germ monsters are poking at my mucus membranes with their javelins and shooting flaming arrows right up into the deepest parts of my sinuses. Why else would it burn up there if not for flaming arrows being shot in? My next client will be here any minute.
Okay, she’s done. I just texted Amy my newest and most awesome idea yet – to be a certified hot air balloon pilot!
Okay Amy shot down my balloon idea. Whatever dude.
I am now at Amy’s house. It’s my third or fourth beer and I’ve been fed children’s tylenol to keep my fever down. Shit works.
I forgot what I was going to write. Amy is freaking distracting as hell, and dateline. Amy and Dateline are equally distracting.