Goddammit, dear reader, I’m sick.
This hardly ever happens.  My system is composed mostly of whiskey, vitriol, and vengeance, and is thus pretty robust and resistant to infection or infirmity.  But right now I just feel like hell.  It started with a sore throat Saturday night, which is no big deal.  But then that mutated into a cough on Sunday, and now…Ebola.  Or it might just be a particularly pernicious head cold.  Either way, there is only one treatment: American Absinthe (a.k.a. NyQuil).
Shit.  I hate this.  If things don’t improve by tomorrow, I shall activate Sick Mode, which includes lighting the candles, playing Faure’s Requiem on repeat at sphincter-loosening volume, and getting higher than the cost of living in California on NyQuil and bourbon until I either feel better or die.
Damn right.

N.P.: “Edie (Ciao Baby) – The Cult