Good Health

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

In a failed attempt to get some much needed beauty sleep (so I've been told), I have decided instead to bloggle a little bloggity blog blog. I have a cold, which in my world, means I get to have a weeklong runny nose, and a 100 day cough. I am now in cough phase and it won't stop, and it hurts. And not in a 'hurts so good' type of way, either.

I have coughed so much that I have induced a migraine, and I don't have medicine in my apartment because apparently I know better than my mother. Fuck me.

I have also just been informed that I need to get on that OHIP bullshit ASAP. It seems that my good old pals back in in the province of AB no longer want to insure my ass.

I tried piling up pillows because I heard that elevating your chest helps you breath better, and allows for less coughing. Maybe that works if you wear a B cup, but all that elevating my chest has done is find me quality men.

Good health. How I love you.

Thanks to my germaphobe father Benneth* (*names have been changed to protect the integrity of my father- the most secretive of all men- in fact, he may not even be my father), I was never allowed to lick shopping cart handles growing up, nor was I allowed to hold onto escalator railings or push elevator buttons with my finger, because, after all, "You don't know who or what has touched that thing".

FACT:
When there was the big SARS outbreak, I got really excited when I saw the 'E' bulb in the Sears sign burnt out. Good timing on that one, Electricity. Good timing.

FACT:
I dressed up like Swine Flu last year for Halloween. And guess what? Karma's a bitch.
No, I didn't get swine flu, but I met some girl named Karma, and really, she was a huge bitch.

FACT:
When I lived in Israel for a year I used to order the "Health Sandwich" at Aroma Cafe.
Amy: What's in the Health Sandwich?
Israeli: Where you come from?
Amy: Canada
Israeli: I am a soldier. What is your number? Do you like fish?

Eventually he told me the sandwich contents and I was only a little disappointed to find out that his mispronounciation of 'Feta', meant that there would be no chunks of Arafat (See: Fatah) sprinkled on my meal.

I'm too tired to continue.
That's what she said.

My coughing has calmed, and in this peace and quiet I can hear my own thoughts, and that really scares me.

Good health. I'm talking physical health. Don't get me stated on mental health..

Good health. I love you and I can't wait to return to your warm embrace.
Please, Good Health, I beg of you.
Come back to me.
I won't talk shit about you anymore.
I promise.
I never meant to hurt you.
Your cousin Stealth meant nothing to me.
It was sneaky, I know.