*cough, cough* Well, you do now! LOL
So who gets bronchitis during a heatwave in July? This guy does. *sigh* I’ve been battling something for at least the past two weeks. Based on my own self-diagnosis I narrowed down the cooties culprit to either a sinus infection or bronchitis. Either way I was kind of hoping things would work themselves out naturally since I don’t really like or feel like dealing with any doctors. I thought it was almost gone until Monday. I felt horrible upon waking up and immediately wanted to go back to bed. If I didn’t have a dog I would’ve done just that. After I took her out and completed her morning routine I hopped my ass right back into bed. I woke up around 3 pm and didn’t feel much better until about 7 or 8 that night. Several people kept
nagging encouraging me to see a doctor. Yesterday afternoon I finally called to make an appointment. My appointment was today. I got my meds and instructions that if I don’t feel better after finishing them to make another appointment. Hopefully, the antibiotics and other stuff does the trick.
I miss the days when I was a kid and every time I got bronchitis (I used to get it at least once a year, every year) the doctor would prescribe codeine. If I had some now I’d google some sizzurp recipes. Wonder how all those rappers seem to get gallons and gallons of that shit? Guess I should be glad I don’t have pneumonia. That was the side chick illness to bronchitis for me.
My sister went to Jamaica recently with like 16 other people. I didn’t know she was rolling that deep. Some of the people who went complained constantly and wanted to leave early. Who does that? Seems like everybody has been to Jamaica except me. I’m trying to get their next year. *crosses fingers* I’m trying to get drunk as fuck and some random dread head from a dance hall chick. Don’t judge me. I asked my sister to get me some Jamaican rum. I wonder what flavor am I getting? Assuming it doesn’t disappear down anyone’s gullet I should get it when she comes to visit next month. I wonder if she’ll make up with her hot friend by then. Anyway, I definitely want to travel somewhere next year. At the very least out of state and hopefully out of the country. Better quit being cheap and get my passport already. I need to start researching prices for all inclusive trips. Wish I could go with my best-friend but I’m sure that would only end with at least one of us getting into trouble.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to punch this computer in the last few days. I almost bought a new one this past weekend. I kind of wish I did but I think I’m going to get a new tablet first and then work on getting a new laptop.
Just because you know or deal with someone who has a mental illness doesn’t mean you understand a damn thing about it. Don’t fool yourself.
People act like I have no feelings and thus can’t have them hurt sometimes. I was this close to saying some things that can’t be taken back. Instead, I just backed off distanced myself from them. The old me burned bridges and roasted marshmallows in the flames. I feel the old me wanting to make a return.
Apparently, I’ve become such a regular at Little Caesar’s that one of the workers knows my name. I’d like to know her phone number, her preference in panties, and how the crotch of said panties taste stuffed in my mouth.
I want to like Google+ but no one uses it except for the same damn bot that tries to follow me several times a week. Different name but same damn picture and spammy profile. It’s like BlackPlanet all over again.
Why do black women on social networks find those videos with black men dressing up and acting like women so funny? I don’t know who I want to punch in the throat more those women or those men?
So where is MC Ren, DJ Yella, and Arabian Prince in all those promos for Straight Outta Compton? I want to see it but I don’t want to see it with a bunch of White people and I don’t trust Black people to act right. I’ll probably wait a week or two after the premiere to go see it.
Donald Trump is the personification of the word assclown! He also may be in the first five definitions for fuckboy too.
I don’t know what’s creepier those Burger King chicken fingers commercials or those new KFC commercials with the Colonel singing? Even as a kid I could always imagine the Colonel on his chicken plantation with a bucket of chicken and screaming nigger at his workers. You can’t tell me he doesn’t look and sound like someone who could’ve been cast in Django Unchained.
Well, that’s a wrap. I think I’m going to kick Cinnamon out of my bed (okay I’ll probably just make her move), lay down and chillax for the rest of the night.