2005-11-17 - 3:12 p.m.
So today I went back to the hot russian doctor (who is marginally less hot now that I've noticed her eyebrows' pitiful attempt to meet in the middle by populating the space with individual hairs), found out I have a mild to moderate temperature so that pretty much means no more workey for a while, and got me some more antibiotics. This will be the third series, which didn't seem to concern the semihot russian doctor at all. "Penicillin, Erythromycin, these are the antibiotics that we try first for these types of things. They did not do the job" -- never once did she use a contraction, this for some reasons adds to the hotness -- "so now we'll move to something stronger." This seems kind of like saying "Yeah liver, take it, take it you dirty whore." Which kind of upsets me, because it's MY job to say that to my liver. But I want this shit killed dead, and I want it to suffer while it dies, so I'll be taking the antibiotics.
I haven't smoked me some weed in a month, and before THAT single bowl of god-only-knows-how-old bud it had been another three weeks, and I have to say that my personality has not improved from the experience. I haven't had a serious drink (and by a serious drink, I mean 3+ drinks) in about the same amount of time, maybe longer. I know some people drink on antibiotics, I'm not one of them. I'd smoke some weed with possible pneumonia or tuberculosis, but I'm not drinking on antibiotics. Those are my priorities and you're not going to fuck with them.
I have two new favorite songs. They are the shit. The first one is Roy Orbison in Clingfilm, written by Ulrich Haarbürste, read by a text to voice converter (I think) with music arranged by Al Davidson. Find it here.
And the second is Think About It, Think Think About It by Flight of the Conchords, which you can find here.
Let's see if I actually remembered how to do an href, or if I just made this look really odd.
If I have tuberculosis, I'm going Doc Holiday wild, motherfuckers..
(Spelling, grammar dicked with 1-15-06)
