Sweet Angel of Death

I'm sick. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being sick? Because I do. It's true. Not that there are very many people who love being sick. I mean there might be but I don't know them and probably that's for the best because they'd have to be sick and twisted individuals really. Come to think of it, maybe it's a little strange that I haven't come across any of them...yeah. Anyway, I'm sick. Not like ugly, snotty, sneezing sick but headache-y, ear ache-y, hot feeling, head swollen like a watermelon sick. Blah. My plans for the evening include lying on the floor praying for the sweet angel of death to come and gather me unto its sweet bosom. I said bosom. Do you see how I am? Sissy. Big sissy. With the whining and the drugs and the whatnot. And by the way, I took some drugs at least half an hour ago and so far I'm very disappointed with their performance. Useless frickin' drugs. All they did was make my mouth taste funny. Gross. Okay. Nap time.