No More Herpes Jokes

For the past few days, my body’s been playing the gracious host to several ailments. Both my top and bottom halves as well as my face are showing different degrees of infection which have been debilitating at worst and uncomfortable at best. I have a fever razing my upper half, stupid fucking menstrual cramps in my girl pipes, and a marble-sized boil on my face.

The most obvious of course is on my face–I mean it’s on my face for crying out loud. My mom told me to get it checked immediately because it could be some form of face-eating bacteria. Uh, yeah…Thanks mom. I’m pretty sure it’s not a face-eating bacteria. But when I went to see my aunt, who’s a derm, the other day, she was all relieved that “Oh thank god it’s not herpes!” Note to self: no more herpes jokes (there goes a third of my sense of humor). Well, at least it’s not herpes. What it is though is a zit that got infected and turned into a comically large boil that can only be flushed out with oral antibiotics. Yay.

Now, the worst part is it’s right beside my lower lip. Which means I can feel it on the inside making it hurt to talk, eat, and brush my teeth. Since eating and brushing my teeth go hand in hand, those two are easily stricken from the equation. Talking on the other hand has been extra hard because I. just. can’t. It hurts. And because it hurts to open my mouth too wide, I end up mumbling. When one mumbles, one is asked to repeat oneself, and this annoys the crap out of me. No, I will not repeat what I just said, instead I will yell at you to “(Please) GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Which has since been truncated to “GO AWAY.” I’m fucking possessed. And to think I just saw Paranormal activity recently. Whoops. Spoiler.

I’ve also been having weird and upsetting dreams, the weirdest of which involved body bags being tossed out of my neighbors’ houses as I ran through the block in my underwear, then when I get home I already know it’s because there are murderers on the prowl. We, however, are in luck because we know it’s Kris Aquino they want; but before we can get our hands on Kris Aquino, they (the murderers) are already climbing over our wall. So I lock myself and my sister and Budi into my mom’s room, and when we come out at daybeak, Kris Aquino’s in the living room with this whole entourage, and she’s a lot skinnier in the flesh, so I guess the camera does add ten pounds and then some? Weird. They don’t kill her though, she just sits there looking bored while the gang of murderers looks on, positively delighted to be in her presence.

Anyway, so since I’ve been sick, I’ve gone three days without solid food, missed a training session at work, finished my fuckload of excel files (effectively killing whatever libido I had left), finished The Pretenders which was the first on my “Alice Needs to Read More Classics to Improve her Life…Somehow” list, and ingested at least 3 liters of carrot juice, 2 kilos of oranges, and 2 liters of pineapple juice.

There’s good news here though. The other side of my face–the side that isn’t infested with flesh-eating bacteria–looks great.

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