Wednesday, October 18, 2006
what number is this?
So I've been sick as a dog lately. I honestly thought I was going to die saturday night. All day I assumed that I was just taking an ungodly long time to recover from friday night and I just had a pesky hangover. Then around 4am that morning I developed a fever and though that death had just arrived for my soul. Long story short, I didn't die but I blew the interview I had monday morning. I suspect that they thought I was on drugs the way I was shivering but sweating perfusely and couldnt speak coherant sentences. Still sick 5 days later. I hate life and life hates me. But for future reference, if I do in fact die, I want a fight to the death over who will get my shit. Hand to hand combat, the way real men do it.