The only time we'd ever see my dad in his robe was Christmas morning, the one time of the year he'd allow himself to have a cold, always timed perfectly with opening presents. He'd look like a bomb had gone off, wearing a robe that looked like a dog had just dug it up from the backyard and went at it with a cheese grater. Other than that, we never saw any indication that the man slept.The only thing worse than being sick is KIND OF being sick. At least when you’re officailly “sick,” you can fuck it and crawl into bed for two days, watching tv and moaning about how miserable you are while wondering if you’ll ever get an erection again. But being KIND OF sick means you motor around for about two weeks on the verge of getting sick, but still having to actually do shit while people tell you to quit your moaning and groaning. Do people ever use “moaning and groaning” as a euphimism for fucking? I feel like that's a missed linguistic opportunity if we don't. Shame on us, indeed.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sick (Kind Of)
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