Site icon The Bloggess

Dying is easy. Comedy is hard. Having a cold on your birthday is even worse.

I feel bad for whoever said “Dying is easy.  Comedy is hard” because it was probably the thing he’s most famous for and he said it while he was on his deathbed so he totally never got any play out of it.  Unless whoever said it was someone already famous like Winston Churchill or something.  Then I feel less sorry for him but only a little because I didn’t even know Winston Churchill was trying to be funny.  And what sucks even more is that the whole phrase would have been huge on twitter because it’s both pithy and way under 140 characters so people would’ve retweeted the shit out of that.  So, it’s kind of a double tragedy.

Also, I think I have the plague.  Or possibly just a cold.  Either way, I’m dying in that way where you feel like shit and you just want to stay in bed but you already can tell that tomorrow you’re going to feel even worse so you should really be up and working today so you can rest tomorrow except if you get up you’re going to spend all day tomorrow wondering if you’d feel less likely to want to drown yourself in the bathtub if you’d have just rested when you were actually sick instead of forcing yourself to work even though you’re technically worthless and are making no sense and have such a fever that you actually think this sentence will make sense to anyone else but then you remember that tomorrow is your birthday so you can stay in bed and justify it as your birthday present to yourself and then you feel all relieved but right after that you’re all “WTF, me?!  Your birthday present is to allow yourself to actually rest when you’re sick?  That’s fucked up” and then I feel all defensive like I need to defend me from me and is this sentence still going on? Holy shit.  This whole post is a terrible mistake but I’m posting it anyway because I’m on a lot of cold medication and so it seems vaguely funny to me.  So bottom line?  Tomorrow is my birthday.  I probably have swine flue or whatever killed Beth from Little Women.  I’m too exhausted to make myself stop yelling at myself.  Isn’t it ironic?  No.  Not at all, actually.

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Comment of the day: Last “winter”  I was diagnosed with The Black Lung. And by diagnosed, I mean that I looked it up my symptoms on WebMD and chose the worst possible illness. ~ sarah

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