Got a joke for ya.

There's a plane and three people on it: A boy, a priest, and Jesse Jackson (and this isn't going where you think it is). The plane starts going down and the three discover that there are only two parachutes on board. So Jesse Jackson grabs one and says, "I'm the smartest black man alive, the world needs me!" And he jumps out. Seeing that there is only one parachute left, the priest says to the boy, "Go ahead young man, I'm old, and you've still got life in you." The boy just smiles and says, "Don't worry sir, the smartest black man alive just jumped out with my knapsack."

* This is not a racist joke. This is a Jesse Jackson joke. Please direct all complaints to my sister. Thank you. *

Whore you doing today?

I am cold. My throat hurts. Wa wa wa I'm Betsy Wetsy.

Except, without the wetsy part. Because that would be wrong.

So, I was thinking. That I would save up a few more bucks and travel around the world. Naked. Because then I could get even more money as I went along. I wouldn't even have to have sex with anyone for it. Sweet.

Eventually, the naked thing would get old and the money thing would wind down. So I'd have to think of a new way to secure my funds. To support the crack addiction I acquired with this rocker dude I met while touring the world naked. So I'd go back and update my blog. And every time I updated, you'd send me fifty bucks. So I could tour the world and smoke crack. And also, it would support the nine Ethiopian children I picked up along the way.

No? I didn't think so.

How about this: You don't like the idea of paying to see my blog, so you don't. I run out of money while touring the world tout habillé and start sleeping with people for money. Eventually, I develop a terrible crack addiction that gets me incarcerated.

Well. It all sort of ends up in the same place.

Man, that's ill.

I finally caved in. I sit on our couch on my non-existent sick day as I write this. In other words, this is not a paid day off. But I would have seriously lost it if I went into work today.

I was at work yesterday for 10 1/2 hours. This included the two back-to-back home visits I did, which brought me to 8:00 or 8:30 last night. They didn't go poorly, and I'm glad that part is over, because now I don't have to feel bad that I'm only cancelling out on one family tonight.

Renée thinks I'm allergic to something in the building. It wouldn't surprise me. Yesterday, I was sneezing all over the place, and it really did feel like an allergy attack in addition to whatever it is that I have. Everyone in the office was like, "Go home, take a sick day, for God's sake don't cough on me. Melissa, that's gross....Hey! Hey, I told you to stop that!! Ew!"

It wasn't entirely like that, but I still had to bite my lip, keep myself from saying that I couldn't touch my sick days yet, even though I've been there six freakin months. But that's a whole other story.

That's it. I'm moving to Canada.

Pathogen

I am ill. Health benefits kick in on the first, so I'll have to hold out till then. Wish it away or something. Two home visits tomorrow night. I like what I do--at least, what I'm actually there to do, but UGH. I just checked in on my personal days and vacation that's been accruing since I started full time, and between the two, I've got enough to go away and visit my family for Christmas. Although, considering all that's gone on, as usual, I'm not entirely thrilled to be going.

Gotta make this one short. I can't even sit up without feeling like crap.

Frigid. Air.

Hooray for sex.

I mean, good day. I'm not feeling so well this morning. I think that the sight of snow alone does something to me. Makes me weary. Makes me cold just looking at it from my livingroom window. Renée thinks it's beautiful. I might think it were beautiful, too, if not for the frigid air. Hehe. Frigidaire.

Yesterday, the three of us went shopping at Penney's and Super K. I don't quite understand their fascination with Penney's. I think it's for old people. But I still bought a pair of men's warm-up pants. I figure, maybe they'll motivate me once I stop sneezing. Which reminds me, I forgot to take my echinacea yesterday. Yep. I'm going to hell. Charlotte just started back up with a trainer a couple of weeks ago. I'm jealous. I wish I could afford a fierce lesbian football playing trainer. I wish I even had the time to exercise. Then I could complain more about not being able to afford it.

I'm cold. ::sniffle:: Renée got Chicken Dance Elmo at Super K. She's gonna donate it to some place to give to some kid. It was super cheap, too. Under 15 bucks. They're all gone by now, I'm sure. Jenna's cleaning her room. Yes, my blog is getting more exciting by the milli-second. Shut the hell up.

You know it's cold when they whip out the Sarah McLachlan. And yet, it's eerily quiet in here. Random thought: My blog got 9 hits Friday night. What the hell are those 9 people doing on a Friday night??? It was mostly someone who has Road Runner. I'll find you. That's my plan for this Friday night: To find YOU. Hey, don't feel bad. I spent my Friday night online, too. I wouldn't even play Renée's new game with them, "Four Real."

Boy. It sure is cold.

Cocoon

Exhaustion washes over me, enveloping me in its fleece embrace. Warm fuzzies. Too tired for a six pack; too jumpy for a cat nap. The real deal says, wake up bunny ears. But I'm not listening because I'm blackening. Blackening my brain so it cannot take in any more information, feelings, requests. Blackening my ears so I cannot hear the screams inside my brain. Blackening my eyes so I don't have to train them to focus. Focus. Focus. The windshield is cloudy and I don't wanna turn off the heat. The heat is down but I don't wanna get out of bed. The bed is warm and I don't wanna go to work. The work is hard but I don't wanna lose the money. The money is good but I don't wanna go to work. Oh. Yeah. Please drug me and tie me to the bed so I never, ever get up. I deserve sleep this weekend. Never, ever get up. Get up? Never.