February 4th, 2007

A Pocket Full of Murder

You know that thing?

Where you're on your third day of the flu and you've got acute bronchitis and there's all this imitation-vanilla-pudding-colored goo in your lungs and you've coughed up all the stuff that was at the top of your lungs and now it's coming up from, like, the very bottom? And you have to keep swallowing or you're gonna choke, but then all the gooey stuff ends up sitting in your stomach and making you feel horribly nauseated and there's this nasty metallic taste in your mouth even though you've just eaten two pieces of toast with jam to try and get rid of it?

I hate that.