Monday, September 27, 2010

Regulators, Mount Up

So yesterday I was minding my own business when my brain decided to open its blood vessels and set headache to "kill" = a megrim (aka a migraine). Unlike Queen Elizabeth though, I couldn't just loll around my castle while I waited for doctors to bring the leeches for a nice blood-letting, which ps, did it work, because I'm so tempted to whack myself in the skull with a ball-peen hammer, a leech doesn't sound so bad, really....

And I was in DENIAL, friends, because I hadn't DONE anything yet for the day except, uh, wake up, so I figured it was just a tension headache being a total dick. Until I began to turn off all the lights and walk around trying not to move my head. Yeahhhhh, that's not normal. Oh, and my left eye was cranked up to "explode" so that was also a sign.

I took a pill, which frankly tasted like granulated corpse, but it was actually made out of magical dried unicorn horn! And even though I was afraid of taking Real Medicine, because I was still dancing the tango in the Land of Denial, I am now officially going steady with Maxalt, and why yes, if you're just happening on my HIGHLYAWESOMEBLOG makers-of-Maxalt, I *would* love to roll around in a bed covered with rose petals and sing arias of how much I want to marry your product!

Then, when I was driving myself and the Children of the Corn to the library, I actually popped my neck on both sides, which always means a crisis has been AVERTED. I'm not sure why, but everyone (awesome) who pops their necks (and I mean pops it literally, not BREAKS their necks, like dancing at a rap concert)(I hear this terminology) tends to get all stiffened up when sick, so neck poppage = total goodness. Even though The Man gets so grossed out by my righteous neck popping that he threatens Divorce and Dismemberment and tells me that it's the same thing as if someone dropped a load on the couch, which, no, not so much the same. Neck popping is the sound of sweet relief.

Aaaanyway, so I was driving, and cracking my neck vertebrae like I get paid for it. And then? Lunchtime radio station flashback with Warren G. and Nate Dogg. I was all, "Regulators, MOUNT UP." And my kids were all, "do what now?" so I was all "on a mission trying to find Mr. Warren G." And they're all "whatever. Where's that Enrique Eglasias song?" And I'm pulling out my "strap" to "lay them bustas down."

And it was then that I knew the Maxalt had saved my Monday, friends, because otherwise I could never have helped Nate Dogg sing about saving Warren's wealth. You understand. Or not. I'm not sure I do either. It's entirely possible I hallucinated *at least* half my day.

Comments, questions, was your Monday full of joy and cheer?

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