I hate you, cold.

I am on Day 9 of the Worst. Cold. Ever.

I’m about to blow my own head off, if this thing doesn’t pack its bags and get the hell out of my body. I don’t get sick. I just don’t. I’m just too great and super for germs to bring me down.

But this one brought me down and I am so totally losing the battle. I went for 3 and a half days with NO voice. Now, I’m not a talker, but even for me this was stretching it. It made everything difficult. I sounded like Joan Rivers after an all night rave, and eating bunches of cigarettes, then chasing them with vodka. Yeah….I sounded THAT good.

The worst part of this cold right now is the incessent coughing. I despise the sound of coughing. If people are coughing on the streetcar or subway, I give them the stinkeye.  The dry hack, the phlegmy whork, the never ending deep-belly almost-gonna-puke cough……send shivers down my spine. Since I never get sick, I always thought, ‘GAWD! Stop it! Could you be asking for any more attention?? Shut up!’

But now I’ve turned into that person who has coughing attacks on public transit and I can’t do anything about it. I pop a Halls, but it doesn’t do anything except make me paranoid that I’m going to choke on it when I cough next time, causing me to die on the fucking streetcar. Because this is Toronto, and honestly, nobody would be helping me if I was choking to death on the streetcar. I wouldn’t be offended, cuz frankly, if it was you choking? I wouldn’t be going near you either. I’m just sayin’.

I try coughing into my elbow, into my shoulder, into my hands. I try to look all, ‘oh, it wasn’t me, I’m just fine’ immediately after I cough, so that people who are now giving me the very deserved stinkeye, won’t be able to figure out if was me or the person beside me who offended them so greatly.

I try to hold the cough in, which only makes me look like I’m afflicted with some sort of mental disorder. My eyes bulge out, I kind of spaz out while I fight with the cough……I look like I’m twitching for no reason. The spiders! The spiders! Get them off of me! Gah!

I’ve been coughing so much and pissing myself off so much in the process that I have even taken Buckley’s cough medicine THREE TIMES.

Yes, the slogan is: ‘It tastes awful, but it works’ so I don’t expect it to taste good. I’ve had it before. But whenever I’ve had it, I’ve been in a house, which had a hallway. This is necessary because when I take Buckley’s, the taste so repels me that I literally run back and forth, trying to get away from it, even though I have already ingested it. I flap my hands up and down in the universal  ‘Eweweweweewwwwwwohmygodgross’ fashion and wait for the taste to pass.

This time I’m in a teeny apartment. Nowhere to run. I downed the Buckley’s and then stared out my kitchen window, frozen with disgust and contemplating if jumping out onto the street would be worth it to end the cold-medicine misery. I decided no, it wouldn’t be. I only live on the second floor and I’d just end up hurting myself more, rather than doing any damage.

DAMMIT I hate being sick. I’m just miserable. Boo. Screw you, cold!

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In other news, dudes, can you believe I’m getting married? Retarded, right? I’ve never been a wedding kind of girl, but I always had a suspicion that the bride-gene would kick in after I got the ring.

Turns out? I was totally wrong. I’m so anti-bride it isn’t even funny. I’m the one begging the boyfriend to just go down to city hall and skip all this wedding mumbo jumbo. Apparently, I’m not allowed to do that. Pft. Whatevs.

I’ll fill you guys in on my impending nuptials at a later time. I’m concocting a list of shiznat that you will NOT find at my wedding, because most of the stuff that people do at weddings makes me want to hurl.