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T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o |
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A Runny Nose and Lost Letters |
2004-02-05� �� 3:04 p.m. |
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Dial-up let me down last night, so no entry for you. However, I�m sitting at work, flipping between screens to get this out this morning.
On Monday and Tuesday I felt like warm poo, mostly just sitting in my big chair, wiping my nose with a piece of Charmin, and feeling sorry for myself. I skipped my dance class, didn�t go to the gym either day, and didn�t get on the computer but once -- and only then it was to download my home email before the server deleted it. Yesterday I awoke feeling just fine, and that continued throughout the day. I had a drizzly nose though, and by the end of the day I felt like that Puffs cartoon commercial where the kid goes to blow his snot and his nose moves, knowing that the tissue is going to hurt. [So I just had a weird thought. Imagine how odd a commercial it would be if someone�s butthole moved. Or better yet -- sticking with the Puffs brand -- if the 13-year-old boy�s ding-dong moved in anticipation of the wipe.] [Um, yeah. I can�t blame any cold medicines since I�m off them today. This is really just how my mind works. Dammit.] So yesterday I was feeling much better. No coughing. No sneezing. No whining. I blew my nose repeatedly, and all was fine. I even went to the gym and did a super workout (30 minutes hardcore cardio, legs, and abs, for a total workout of 70 minutes) without too much difficulty. I came home, yakked on the phone, attempted to use the Internet, and then gave up and went to sleep. This morning: sore throat. Argh. At least the Internet is down at work, leaving me nothing to do -- Whee! So, yeah. Onto more interesting things. I got a very cool valentine from a very-on-top-of-things Crowhihs. It�s an absolutely wonderful postcard mailed from Bath, Maine on February 14, 1913 for only a penny. Mazie tells Roland (from Haverhill, Massachusetts) that she now lives in Maine, she�s sorry to hear that he�s ill, and that she�d like to hear from him. She also sends love to his mother before signing, �Yours, Mazie� and leaving her new address. I wonder how many lost letters I have out there, and what all they say in them. Am I telling Alena how unfair my parents are? (1992) Melanie about how much I [heart] Donny Rogers? (1994) Michelle how much of an ass my boyfriend is? (1996) Crystal how much my job sucks? (1999) Ato how much my life rocks? (2003) I often think about the messages [email protected] gets that are supposed to be for me. (Mine is chicago_jo.) I know for a fact that she�s gotten some hilarious personal mail delivered to her inbox, oftentimes with subject lines along the lines of �He who I shag,� �Beer is my friend,� and �My poo is green.� I had a notebook full of unsent letters to #34 that I recently tossed. Imagine if someone salvaged that. I know I was quite the wordsmith in some of the pages. So, yeah. If you lost letters, whose peepers would you least want on those sheets? I�m hoping [email protected] is cool. �
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Moving Day - 2008-02-15
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