Posts Tagged 'illness'

taco salad and consequences

Cupcake: “What are you up to?”
me: “Not much. Trying not to shit my pants while I drive home.”
Cupcake: “That is fabulous. Any reason in particular?”
me: “There were some Filipinos at work today and they had a bunch of food.”
Cupcake: “Okay?”
me: “And they all wanted to give me their food, so I took it.”
Cupcake: “Wait–what?”
me: “I ate their food. Unexpected Filipino food for lunch.”
Cupcake: “Who are you right now?”
me: “I know. Part of me was thinking ‘This is a poor choice in the making’ but the other part was thinking ‘Free Filipino food’ and that’s the part that won.”
Cupcake: “Who were these random people and why did they have food at the library?”
me: “You sound like all my coworkers when I told them to come downstairs for tasty Filipino food. You are giving me the verbal form of their facial reactions.”
Cupcake: “Whaaaaaat…?”
me: “Exactly.”
Cupcake: “Wait, so what was this Filipino food like?”
me: “It was taco salad mostly.”
Cupcake: (silence)
me: “Taco salad. I’m burping Filipino taco salad.”
Cupcake: “I can’t get past any of this.”
me: “These are consequences. I am living some consequences. They were hard to see at the time because the consequences were at least three hours in the future and I was enjoying taco salad.”
Cupcake: “I think you should definitely blog this.”
me: “Maybe later. I’m home now and taco salad is about to explode out of my ass.”

my anger has a color and it is grapefruit

Digerati and Pants have both told me they want a picture of me buried under 15 pounds of grapefruit. Why? Because despite my eating of MAJOR CITRUS daily, I have again caught a cold. I just had an epic cold last month. I was at death’s door for THREE WHOLE DAYS of sick time. That is long enough for my place of work to forget me. Maybe it’s not long enough at your job. Maybe I am just forgettable. All the more reason why I can NOT afford this cold.

What was it, fate? Was it the dirty means by which I acquired this grapefruit? What, the epic walking and olympic swimming and increasingly early bedtimes not enough for you, immune system? Well fuck you, white cells. I don’t see YOU doing such a great job! I can’t do this health thing all on my own! I’m sleeping at 10 and walking at 8 and hoovering sour citrus and choosing salads over fried breading and popping vitamins and drinking water and crossing my ever-fucking fingers in the hopes I won’t catch EVERY STRAY WIMP-ASS GERM that passes near my nose-holes. And there’s a lot of them, immune system. So I’m sorry. I am sorry I work with germy children. I’m sorry I get spat on and snotted on and sometimes I can actually SMELL the grubby hands that hand me things. And speaking of hands, my nephew stuck his hand in my mouth on Friday. What was I supposed to do about that, immune system? How do you see a crazy move like that coming before it’s too late? You don’t. That’s what immune systems are supposed to be for. Grabby babies with oral fixations.

So I will NOT draw a picture of grapefruit burying me. I will draw a picture of my rage, world. And it goes a little like this:

That’s my IRONTEAM shirt. It is soaked with sweat and tears. And grapefruit-tinged angry spittle.