I have the flu

I have been in bed from Friday 8pm until Sunday 6am. While beds are, in general, designed to be comfortable, nothing is comfortable for thirty-four solid hours. I don't know why infants and old people don't just kill themselves. Oh wait -- it's because they're physically incapable of ending it. How fucking pathetic is that? I want a failsafe button at all times.

Since Friday, I have eaten exactly six Saltines, and one bite of a raspberry popsicle which I then thought better of. I just took my Dayquil and now I'm going to try to go to work. It would be nice if America had some kind of social insurance system that allowed me to not go to work when deathly ill and still, you know, not die in penury. However, America is hardly ahead of the game as regards social welfare. (As Schaffer the Dark Lord said at the Dark Show post-election, "Think of it this way -- if it had been a contest to be the most embarrassed group of people in the world, we would've won!")

I have thousands of emails that it will take me awhile to get to. And I'm sorry for missing the Getcast launch party, my recording session with John P., Girls on Poles, work on Saturday, and everything else on my calendar. I was busy being alternately hot and cold every five seconds for a day and a fucking half.

On a positive note, my new roommate was responsible for bringing me the Saltines and Dayquil. In an entire day and a half of unmitigated suffering, the positive notes were my new roommate being lovely, and a text message from Schaffer the Dark Lord, which woke me up because I was sleeping with my cell phone, you know, hoping mommy would call.