Pants One Leg At a Time and Skirt For Accessibility

I'm sick.

I'm really sick.

And it's the crescendo of illness that happens to fall on the first night of the "Touch and Go 25th Anniversary" celebration at the Hideout festival this weekend. I'm already getting to the age where standing outside all day leads to "dagnabbit, these kids today!" proclamations and grumbling about sore feet. Now, I have to add the upset-stomach-sniffle-head-filled-with-snot-I-hate-that-I-can't-taste-anything misery of whatever ails me.

I deserve to rant, but I'm too exhausted to try. What could I watch that wouldn't amplify my already crazy Nyquil-laced dreams? I already dreamt last night I was on the set of a porn and a Christian Bale lookalike held a push-up contest between all of the male porn stars on the set, while us gals played *Duck Duck Goose* and gorged on strawberry shortcake. The night before I had an interview with Oprah. Her head was huge. The night before that, a caterpiller munched on the remnants of my hard-boiled egg and then chased me around the house. It was lightning fast and neon-yellow. Scary. Decongestants produce wicked dreams, I'd say.

Would "Little House on the Prairie" be a good choice? Or would I start to think about the episode where a man in a clown mask rapes innocent girls in Walnut Grove? Or maybe the episode when Ma Ingalls gets an infection from a wound on her leg and slowly goes mad until she's rescued in the nick of time and spared from any more of her hallucinatory images that would freak out any methadone addict?

I just need to be well again. For the sake of everyone and for my roommate's sanity. I know she's growing tired of my whimpers and mumblings of pain. If I were Old Yeller, Tommy would be crying over my dead body at this very moment.

Help.

Note To All Prospective Dates

Telling a girl, who happens to be a redhead, that she looks, "just like Kathy Griffin!" isn't ever cool. Sometimes, Kathy is a funny lady, but even she is self-depricating enough about herself to admit that plastic surgery is her best friend. Yes, what she looks like now happens to be the result of multiple plastic surgery procedures. She is a walking AFTER picture. Go on and take a look on Google image. Or imdb.com. Or check out her show on Bravo network, "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List" to know exactly how much of an insult it is to tell a girl that she resembles the comedienne.

And following up the "compliment" with a "But I THINK SHE'S SUPER HOTT! WHAT? WHY ARE YOU MAD? SHE'S REALLY HOTTTTT!!" doesn't make it all better. It only makes me want to throw a drink in your face and a lit match in your ear.