I'll Have the Nyquiltini Please

Rise and shine I did NOT this morning. Thats pretty much the norm for me anyway, but this time it was NOT booze induced (unfortunately). Conclusion: I'm getting sick.

I am typically one of those people who hates pills and won't see a doctor until I'm already dead. So where do I turn for my medical advice? My mother, among other things, is a nurse. Many people would lead you to believe that this is ideal. Your very own personal nurse? NO. THEY ARE WRONG. MY MOTHER IS NOT THAT KIND OF NURSE. She is the kind that spends her day adjusting insurance claims (that means she knows nothing about anything health related). Nevertheless she insists on diagnosing and treating me any time I feel ill. And by treating me I mean giving me some REALLY awful advice and praying for the Lord to heal me. It might go a little something like this:

Me: Hey Crazylady, I'm not feeling well, I have a cough, my throat is sore, and my eyes are itchy.

Crazylady: Oh, well, sounds like you have the Asian Bird Flu. Take a shower, have some gingerale and dry toast, and lie down with your left leg propped up. If that doesn't help, do some yoga, brush your teeth, and unload the dishwasher. If you still feel bad after that, eat a pickle and go to church ask Jesus for help, He'll know just what to do. I'll be praying for your black black soul, are you sure you aren't a lesbian?

This time I have decided to forgo the motherly advice and take matters into my own hands. Despite the fact that I have important things to do (ha!) I've taken some time to invent a cureall. The recipe is as follows:

• 1 Bottle Nyquil (for the coughing)
• 1 Can Gingerale (to make my mother happy)
• 2 Glasses Champagne (because I'm classy like that)
• 1 shot Vermouth (because I like the word Vermouth)
• The contents of 4 pill bottles with no labels that I found in my medicine cabinet (I am a habitual label peeler. Some say its because I am sexually frusterated. THEY ARE CORRECT)
• Tiny cocktail umbrella (for aesthetics)

If that doesn't cure me it will kill me and thats close enough - Do me a favor and call in 48 hours to see if I'm feeling better, if you just hear slurred words with no meaning, everything's fine, I've just been drinking. Here's to your health.


UPDATE: SOMEONE CALL 911. No wait I mean 411, I'm looking for a CiCi's Pizza, I want to call and ask who the hell decided it was a good idea to put macaroni and cheese on a pizza. I mean HONESTLY?