Friday, April 08, 2005

I Want A New Drug

Excuse me for just a moment.

CAUWFFFFHACKKKKKKKK(gurgle)AAAAUUUUUUGGGHGHGH.

(Gasp.)

I have a piss-bucket of a cold. Not any demure little thing where I dab my nose with a lacey hanky, or raise my hand to my forehead as I swoon delicately to the satin-sheet covered bed. No. Of course not. Mine came yesterday as, and forgive me if I shout, mother-oF-GOD-MY-FUCKING-THROAT-IS-CLOSED-AND-I-CAN'T-BREATHE-AND-I'M-COUGHING-MY-LUNGS-OUT-MY-NOSE...FUCKIN'-HELL!!!!!!!!! Sort of like that.

What kills me, besides the porcupine quills seemingly stuck in my tonsils, is that I've been on penicillin for the last 10 days. Totally unrelated thing, I had a tooth problem that started with a small lump and ended with the dentist cancelling all appointments to do an emergency root canal and write me a Rx. (Side note: I have a sneaking suspicion that my dentist is a quack. But I'm just too lazy to try to find another one that's close in proximity and takes my insurance. But I do have a really good OB/GYN. And I'd much rather lose my teeth than my snoopy, if ya catch my drift.)

Isn't penicillin supposed to kill everything in it's path? Especially when you take 4 horsepills of it a day? Isn't it the cure-all? From my vantage point, I imagined each pill slowly dissolving in my body and sending out little SWAT teams that would sweep the area, search and destroy, and leave all my insides squeaky clean, like I'd squirted a bottle of hand sanitizer in there. Instead, I got Barney Fife holding the gun sideways and looking like someone just snuck up and bit him on the ass. Nice. Thanks.

Dear Pharmaceutical Industry,

Thank you for Motrin. Thank you for the pink bubble-gum stuff that makes my sick offspring feel like dancing again. Thank you for NyQuil, and it's heady alcoholic effects.

But please, for the love of god, get off yer asses and make something that will kill all the bad germs inside me. I know you have the technology (better...stronger...faster). I know you have billions of dollars to give to the brightest and best researchers in the world. If you know what's good for you (and this is not a threat, for that would be illegal, I think), you will do as I say, find the cure, leave it in a brown paper bag by the Northwest Airlines ticket counter, and no one will get hurt.

Sincerely,

Mona

5 Comments:

At 11:26 AM, Blogger Sergei C. said...

Gawrsh, Andy!

If only there was something I could do to make you feel better . . . .

 
At 11:36 AM, Blogger Mona Buonanotte said...

Y'know that thing you did to me this morning? More of that, please. I'll try not to cough (unless that was a turn-on for ya).

 
At 2:35 PM, Blogger Pisser said...

You could tell him to turn his head and cough.

Is Motrin basically 600 mg. ibuprofen? Because that's what they gave me for my whiplash o_0

Beware of brown paper bags. They may contain poo...!

 
At 5:55 PM, Blogger Cynical Girl said...

You need the ZPack. I have some friends. It's on the way.

You could always have your tonsils removed. It's the worst goddamn experience you can have besides childbirth, but I have to say that it's worth it.

 
At 9:29 PM, Blogger Marcheline said...

That was way cool, the way your scream just ran off the edge of the text box, into the outer regions of space..... much better than bold type! I'll have to remember that little trick for later.

 

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