You know how I don’t like to worry you unnecessarily, what with this being a humor blog and all, but I lately I have been suffering terribly.
Terribly, I say.
It all started a few weeks ago, when the Guy I Went to Ireland With sneezed and then also coughed.
“You have a disease,” I told him. And then made some helpful comments about the benefits of quarantines, which, in my opinion, the mainstream media refuses to cover because of the anti-quarantine special interests lobby. Don’t believe me? Try to think of the last time you’ve been quarantined. I rest my open and shut case.
But he claimed that he didn’t have a disease, but rather “allergies”. Then he said that he gets these “allergies” every season and that they go away after a while. Then he said some other things that may have involved “your hypochondria” but I was too busy buying life insurance online to really pay attention. Besides, he still has that accent, so I’m not really sure what the hell he was talking about it.
So to recap: I accused the Guy I Went to Ireland With of having a disease, he denied it and we went on with our lives, like any two normal people one of whom is in deep denial about health issues and the danger he poses to his beloved victim.
And then the unthinkable happened..
First, my throat felt itchy.
Then my throat felt scratchy.
Finally, my throat felt Itchy & Scratchy and got a guest appearance on The Simpsons.
Then I sneezed.
No, first I coughed, and then I sneezed.
Then I blew my nose. A lot.
Then I got a headache and then I retired to my bed and Woe is Me’d.
Meanwhile The Guy I Went to Ireland With went on with his life, unfazed by what he had done.
“You infected me!” I English Patiented at him from my deathbed.
“I didn’t know allergies were contagious,” he said.
“You don’t have allergies, you have a damn cold!” I could no longer contain my rage.
“And where did you get your medical degree?” he wanted to know.
If there’s one thing I hate, other than being infected, it’s when people change the subject. Like we’re talking about him having a cold and suddenly he wants to see my curriculum vitae. Very transparent distraction move.
I’m not really sure how to end this post, so this is a little awkward. But to recap: He gave me his cold. His ManCold. For which, if i may remind you, there is no cure. And there is so much no cure for it, they’re not even trying. There are no telethons, no walk-a-thons, or any kind of thon. (Also, try typing “thon” and see how quickly autocorrect changes it to “thin”). When you have a cold, people say “it’s just a cold” which is offensive to cold victims and diminishes our plight.
So that’s what’s been going on with me.
But speaking of worrying, I was thinking how one of the things I worry about is spelling. I’m an ok spellar (I know that was beneath me, but I can’t halp it) but I don’t like it when I’m speaking to someone and they decide that we’re having an impromptu spelling bee and ask me to spell a word that they don’t understand. Ok, so it most often happens with names, and people I don’t know, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable for me. And I think there must be some kind of little known Constitutional Amendment that requires people spelling out a name to say what each letter stands for. My favorite example of this, of course, was when Phoebe on Friends did it– “P as in Phoebe, H as in Hoebe, O as in Oebe–” but we can’t all do that. Whenever someone asks me to spell something, like my name, I have a mini-stroke and immediately forget normal words. So when I’m spelling my name, it sounds something like this:
“M as in mandible, A as in anal cavity, R as in raison d’etre, I as in imbecile, no idol, no IDLE, N as in nevermore, K as in Klondike bar, A as in aural.”
It’s exhausting.
I really hope that Constitutional Amendment gets repealed soon.
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