Pneumonia.

Being sick is a terrible thing. Being sick and then catching pneumonia is an even more terrible thing. Note to self: Get a fucking flu shot next year. I've been sick for going on 3 weeks now. What a joyous few weeks I've had. Really. Hacking up balls of phlegm, unable to eat without coughing so hard I throw up my food, blood panels, a million and a half pills, a ton of vicodin cough syrup which makes my brain not work (which I suppose is the only perk of being ill), doctors visits galore, oxygen therapy that gives me uncontrollable shakes, no longer being a fan of my once favorite tea, never wanting to see a bowl of soup again... I'm assuming you get the picture. I'm tired. Just plain old tired.

Quarantine.

I'm currently under quarantine. I spent the entire weekend sweating in my sheets trying to fight off a flu and then after suffering for so long I decided to end this battle and go to the doctor. I feel so vulnerable when I go to the doctor. I get poked and prodded, get touched with very cold instruments and very cold hands. I get questioned like I'm a drug addict looking for a fix with some prescription sizzurp and pain pills. I must be an incredible actress to somehow fake the ocean of snot in my lungs and I purposefully sat in a 150 degree sauna so I could temperature out with a decently high fever.

Anyway, so being bed ridden means I'm spending a lot of time with myself and not even in the kind of way that I'd want to. I'm stuck in my bed with my dog and my tv. Apparently I need reading glasses because reading with a fever equates to the biggest headache I could NEVER want. So, TV it's been --- and there's nothing of value on TV. Anywhere. Either I am stuck with the ever so politically correct children's shows or Bob Ross. Even Paula Deen doesn't make for quality TV anymore. Seeing that fat old granny make all those sexual advances on her guests and mouth fuck sticks of butter like they're dicks just doesn't make for decent TV anymore. Bridalplasty? Married to Rock? Jersey Shore? WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF HUMANS ARE WE GLORIFYING IN THIS WORLD? People who have accomplished nothing? Who prefer to fuck around, get in bar fights, marry for money, swim in plasty surgery, money money money?

The bitch that pisses me off the most is Kris Jenner. HEY KRIS JENNER, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU WIN THE WORST MOTHER ON THE PLANET AWARD. I THOUGHT DINA LOHAN WAS BAD BUT YOU'RE FAR WORSE. YOU MIGHT AS WELL DROP OFF ALL YOUR KIDS AT BROTHELS AND FORCE THEM INTO SEXUAL FAVORS FOR MONEY. MAYBE MAKE SOME MORE AND SELL THEM ABROAD FOR CHILD PORNOGRAPHY.

And don't get me wrong, I'm totally FOR women working in brothels --- so long as it's on the woman's own terms and it's HER decision. But this Kris Jenner bitch seriously is just whoring out her daughter for her own benefit. And I get that *most* of her kids are adults, but exploiting her adult children is a REALLY BAD example for her under aged children. If it weren't for the fact that Bruce Jenner is a decent human being those kids would probably be a bunch of freeloading junkies. And how the hell is that Khloe bitch related? I want a paternity test. I demand her father's body be exhumed and there's a paternity place test. That beast is something draggy with shit for an attitude.

The only quality TV I'm getting in this Godforsaken punishment of influenza is Sex and the City. and you know what? I always hated this show. I still sorta hate this show. Sometimes I want to take that Miranda cunt and punt her across the room. Her character of "oh me oh my I'm so successful no one wants to bang me because I'm successful" drives me up the fucking wall. No bitch, no one wants to bang you because you have a bull dyke haircut on top of being a ginger with a negative attitude. They casted a lesbian who can't even remotely play the role of a hetero. CMON. It's like the writers of this show didn't even try to make Miranda even remotely enjoyable. Charlotte also pisses me off but only because I want to put a gagball in her mouth and tell her to take it like a big girl, shut up and get over it. I'm like a fucked up version of Samantha and Carrie but TOTALLY dating Mr. Big. My boyfriend is absolutely Mr. Big in so many ways that remind me of how I should really slap him sometimes but then my inner Samantha kicks in and I'm happy as a pig in shit. I'm glad there are no new episodes of this shit to ever plague my TV. Reruns of the same old shit. I can't be comparing myself to crappy old hags that have drinking problems because I have nothing better to do.

Murphy's Law

Do you ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed and shit just doesn't go right all day? Like stupid fucking shit that makes you question if you're having a fucking mini stroke because it just doesn't make sense otherwise? As in, spilling shit all day, knocking shit over all day, falling, getting blocked out of my car with no way to get inside of my car, misplacing things... Just to name a few. I mean, really. What the fuck kind of weird shit did I do to get whatever fucked up karma a'la Murphy's Law today? Even worse, I received some fucking letter in the mail from some crematory for me to be aware that I am going to die soon and I need to be prepared for when I die, so I don't leave my dead body for someone else to pay for. Hey, fuck you crematory, I don't have kids yet and when I do I will make sure those money sucking little bastards pay for my funeral. Their inheritance will be spent exclusively for my grandiose mausoleum made of white granite with statues of half naked men in ancient Grecian attire. By Grecian attire I actually just mean those wrap up sandals and a grape leaf headpiece. And by half naked I mead fully naked with hard ons. Big hard ons. Fuck you, future kids. Since I'm forced to go out, I'm going out in style and I will stay stylish until the Earth blows up.

Off Switch

Fuck, I am pale. I am almost at abominable snowman levels. Don't get me wrong, I have always been abominable. There is no denying that. I guess January means that I get pale. I suppose I could tan in a bed with those cancer causing lights but that means I'd have to pay for it and I hate paying for things. I guess I could get free tans if I screwed someone working at a tanning salon but that is highly unlikely. Mostly because that means I would more than likely screw something female and vaginas just aren't my thing.

So once again I failed to post my year-end wrap up. This time I actually wrote like 800 pages worth of year-end nonsense and then realized that it's not a wrap up if it's as long as Moby Dick. What I was essentially trying to say is that first half of 2010 I saw more tiny penises than I ever wanted to see in a lifetime. Thankfully I never slept with any tiny penises. But my biggest lesson of 2010 is do not waste any time on a tiny penis. I mean, if you see it and come to the conclusion that it is not worth touching, run. Pull a Forrest Gump and run like you've never run before. and then keep running.

Then somewhere in the midst of this sea of tiny penises I got a HUGE (pun intended) break and starting banging my boyfriend. Sometimes I think this is why I keep him around, because he's a huge pain in the ass (pun intended again) and that's all I really need in life. I mean, I've come to the conclusion that men are worthless and their only purpose is to be sexually satisfying. If they cannot satisfy then you throw them away, because all the compliments, presents and nice dinners in the world do not equate to a pounding that sends your body and brain through a loop. I mean I guess if you're one of those gold digging cunts it doesn't matter. But if you're an independent woman that takes care of yourself, the only thing that really lacks is a dick. AND DO NOT TRY TO TELL ME A DILDO IS GOOD ENOUGH, IT IS NOT, SO STOP TRYING TO JUSTIFY IT.

It is safe to assume that my 2011 will be full of poundings. I mean it seems like it has already started that way and I don't see that changing. So, here's to 2011 --- A year of good poundings.