A Long Day's Journey Into Doc Holiday

So, my throat feels a little better -- but the sickness has moved into my chest. My chest feels heavy and my breath is short. But I can't seem to cough. I feel like I've got TB. My ears still feel a little drain-y too. All I know is that tomorrow at 8 pm I have a show and I need to be 100 percent by then. Weak. Drain-y. Drained. Tired. Aches and pains. Pins and needles. Fric and Frac, Spic and Span, Arm and Hammer....what was I saying? Oh, yeah, not at my best right now. I feel like four hardcore coughs would solve all my problems. Hack, Hack, Hack, HACK!!! Done is done and fun is fun.

So, I can't follow my own advice. Last night Kim called cause she wants to join the gym and go to yoga. Of course I fall over myself, sure, I'll drive, no problem.....I pick her up and we drive to the gym, she signs up for a membership, and then.....they don't supply members with yoga mats anymore. What? Why? Cause the health inspector said they couldn't. What? Wait, why? Cause they couldn't clean them properly. Huh, wait. You mean I've been using filthy mats this whole time? Yes, yes you have. We sell them for $23.00. Umm, no thanks, hey, Kim, let's go to Target and get them, I think they're cheaper there.
So, we go to Target and there's no way we can make it back in time for yoga -- but in a way, I'm fine with this cause the situation is strange enough that I'm getting a lot of humor out of it and Kim's laughing, so I'm happy.
Anyway, Target's cheapest yoga mats are $20.00 and I don't really have the money but I buy a yellow one. Kim buys a purple one. Then I drive her back to her place. And I finally got my Dane Cook cd back from her.
So even though we didn't get to do any yoga, I had a weird, fun time. And there's always next week, now that we both have mats. I'm a strange fucker.

Tonight, I'm meeting Steve up at The Pine Street Bar for a few drinks. That should make for a cool Wednesday evening. Maybe warm liquor down my throat will do me some good. Maybe if I keep repeating that, I'll start to believe it. Hot toddy. Whiskey sour. Ha, wouldn't it be funny if we were going to a place with a huge fireplace and had brandy in those snifter glasses.....Mister Green in the study with the Candlestick. Of course I wouldn't turn down a small, brown bottle of laundum right now. Or, at the very least a rag soaked in ether.