Bad medicine is what I need

This post has absolutely nothing to do with Stones drummer Charlie Watts. But I am sick, and when I am sick I can do whatever I want, and I adore him and how he dresses like an investment banker. Actually, if you need me to make a connection, here you go: I am sick and don't want anyone to bother me-actually, I would like them to just go away, get off my cloud, if you will. Hey, "Get Off My Cloud" contains my favorite drum intro ever, performed by the afore-pictured Charlie Watts!

So yesterday I was all "yeah, I am TOTALLY going to just call out sick tomorrow, just skip work, I'm gonna do it and then just shop or sleep or go see ten movies, wahooooo, yeah!" knowing full well that I never would, because a.) I have never ever lied about being sick to Ferris Bueller myself out of work and b.) I totally love and cherish my paid sick days way too much to waste them. But I talked all day about how I was going to do it. So what happens today? Yep, wake up with the plague. And I can't even watch one movie from my couch, because walking around makes me dizzy (YES, dizziness and nasal congestion are indeed plague symptoms, what are you, a doctor? Shut up).

If you know me, you know that when I get sick I revert to my 5 year old self. Frankly, I don't like being uncomfortable ever, hence the reason I went camping and slept in a tent precisely once, and it was in my backyard with my dad when I was like 6, and it lasted about 3 hours before I learned an important childhood lesson (nature is stupid and lacks air-conditioning) and then the next day, true story, I took a shovel to the tent and ripped it apart because it was ridiculous and I already had a house that actually had a floor (I think that was the most violent thing I have ever done-I guess I just really hated the great outdoors). I get really cranky and can't function when I have a cold. I also refuse to do things that will make me better, like ingest anything other than Coke slurpees (true story, I was super sick the week before Amit's wedding and my bridesmaid dress with the 8 billion dollars worth of alterations didn't fit because I lost like 7 pounds from living on ice and high-fructose corn syrup and I spent the whole night doing the classy strapless dress tug move) or take medicine.

The moral of the story is this: please go buy me a Coke slurpee and some trashy tabloid magazines and bring them over to my house. The end.

Also, if you see him hanging out around town, bring Charlie Watts.