on medicine

Oh, NyQuil, how do I love thee?

The first time I ever took NyQuil I was 17 and chased it with some Alka Seltzer Cold & Flu. I made it all the way down three of the stairs to my room. My dad found me later in a drug-induced coma and took me to bed.

NyQuil, I do love you, but you are not the best medicine. Sorry. I know, it hurts, but I have to break up with you. I found somethin' better.

(brace yourselves for the biggest cliche' evs)

Laughter, you are my new favorite. You really, truly are the bestest medicine evah.

Tonight, after the slowest night ever in the history of bars, a few co-workers and I crashed Terry's formal going-away party. I laughed so god-damn hard I had to change undies when I got home.

Sometimes, when I go places where I don't know anyone and I am in that awkward, uncomfortable place, I, well, I start running my mouth about stretch marks and masterbation and shit. Let's call it my little nervous tick. Lucky for me, my soulmate was sitting across from me at the table and took off running with my blabberings and tonight I am warm and happy and my cheeks hurt a little from so much giggling and recitations of the Dead Milkmen and Monty Python.

Oh, and I guess I'd better do some laundry tomorrow, too. Oh, happy day.