2009-03-01 - 1:47 p.m.

FACE THE PAIN

Oy, my face. She hurts.

So Thursday I noticed a slight scratchy feeling in my throat. Nahhhhh, I thought. Can't be anything. I eat right. I take a liquid multivitamin that renders me invincible and I work out every freaking day. Further, I wash my hands quite compulsively after touching anything at all. This ain't happenin'.

It happened, and it sucks huge.

Each day is a new phase, and today is the "so much pressure behind the bones of my face that I want to drill holes in my cheeks for relief" phase. This is ass on a stick. Luckily, I had some severe sinus pressure tablets from who knows how long ago, and I ate two of them roughly 25 minutes ago and I do believe it has alleviated the misery somewhat. I've stopped moaning, anyway...out loud, that is.

My mother called last night and I could have sworn she said she would bring some food...yet here we are at nearly 2pm and I haven't seen her...I'm not going to call her and ask her if I was dreaming because she'll fly into a guilt-fueled tizzy (whether I dreamt her offer of help or not) and she'll feel bad for not coddling me. My ma....she's all right.

Yesterday, for some awful reason, I decided to read up on GG Allin. He was a nasty, yucky punk rocker who made himself famous by doing every wretched thing you can imagine, onstage. He was really a foul person; you gotta wonder how somebody gets like that. I guess that's what I was wondering as I read through accounts of his antics, looked at pictures and watched an interview with his mother. Turns out, his father was a dolt who insisted his doormat mother name him Jesus Christ upon his birth. Luckily she changed it to "Kevin Michael" before he started school...but that's still probably the first thing that affected this poor kid and turned him into such a weirdo. Anyway...bad idea to fill my head with all that crap before doping up on Nyquil to sleep. I dreamt of GG seemingly all night, and woke up feeling like my mind's eye needed to be bleached.

My daughter's idea of great entertainment today involves stomping up and down the hall in her sandals, and playing a keyboard. My pounding head feels oh so fortunate to have such a musical little sprite in the family. *flat stare*

She's here now, telling me she needs to "dress her penguin"...not code for scrubbing of unmentionables, but an actual thing she absolutely MUST do, RIGHT now, with her Disney Club Penguin account. Normally I'd scoff, but if she's sitting here typing away, she cannot be stomping in the hall. Kid wins.

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