Dear drunkards,
I hope you are all enjoying the end of the year festivities while I'm stuck at home battling off yet another head cold. That makes like 3 viruses I've accumulated this season; I'm starting to dislike all the sick people who come in trying to fill their prescriptions. Maybe I should start wearing a facemask like the Chinese when SARS broke out.
The aforementioned bastard virus had dissuaded me from going back to Houston. So on the 31st, I thought about just trucking over to the Flying Saucer in Addison a few miles away, but I reconsidered since I'd be going by myself. I also didn't feel like hitting on the sad single ladies (who had no one to kiss) since I might've sneezed a whole bunch of green and yellow gunk on them.
All things considered, I went to bed 3 hours before the turn of the decade. The blanket wrapped around me like a burrito seasoned with generous amounts of loratadine, dextromethorphan, guaifenesin, and phenylephrine.
Blah. I feel old. What 22 year old skips out on a New Year's bash?
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