We Are All Really Sick, Or Just Really Starved For Attention

Last night I went to a fashion show with Boyfriend. It was really neat for lots of reasons. I got to get all dressed up and wear my super sexy gold strappy heels which also kind of make me feel like I'm surfing on land because they have all these thin straps around my ankles and the tops of my feet but the straps aren't very tight so every time I lift my foot to take a step, the bottom part of the shoe doesn't come with it and I'm like, "oh no, my shoe broke! I'm barefoot!" Then, eventually the bottom part of the shoe lifts off the ground to reattach itself to the underside of my foot and all is right with the world again. I also got to see a bunch of really rad new clothes from Versace and Tori Burch (which is really fun to say in that fake English accent like the announcer of the show. Try it now. Go ahead... "Toriiii Buuuuurch" See? Wasn't that fun?) There were lots of beautiful people at this event, including some minor celebrities (eg: this one chick from The Bachelor) and tons of tall, skinny people and models. I don't mind being around tall, skinny, modely people and it doesn't make me feel self conscious. Actually, being around people who are better looking than me makes me feel hotter by association so, how's that for a good attitude?

Okay, by now you are probably thinking that this is a post about a fashion show. Well, this isn't really that kind of blog. To be honest, I couldn't care less about the fashions and I was really there to hang out with Boyfriend and drink for free. Whilst hanging out with Boyfriend and drinking free wine, I proceeded to get very drunk. I am a few years out of college and by now, my nights of wild over-indulgence in adult beverages are few and far between and when they do occur, it is usually not on a school night (I know that I work and do not go to school anymore but it's fun to live in the past). So, Boyfriend and I get home, I tumble into bed in some sort of contorted fetal position where I do not move until morning.

Cut to 6:00am 7:52am. I awake and instantly believe that I am dead. I have died and Jesus has not decided whether or not to accept me into Heaven yet but the devil does not want me in Hell because I would probably break something valuable so, for now, I am stuck being dead in Boyfriend's bed until Jesus and the devil can play Rock, Paper, Scissors: Best 2 out of 3 and determine who will be stuck with me for eternity. In short, I feel like poop. Not even the good solid, hard kind of poop where you go, "yay! That was such a relaxing and productive pooping experience." But more like the, I accidentally ate too many jalapenos and now I have diarrhea and it burns every time I move, kind. Not only am I completely hung over but I feel a massive allergy attack coming on. The pending attack of allergies reminded me of that scene in 300 when the Persian messenger (me) rides into Sparta and all the Spartans are just like, "la la la dee dee doo, we love flowers" and then the messenger delivers a terrible message to the unsuspecting Spartans which angers the King Leonidas (allergies) and then all of a sudden happy-go-lucky Leonidas is enraged and declares that he will now behead every living thing in the world, including puppies!

"THIS. IS. POLLEN!!!!!!!!" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!




This was exactly the same thing. So, I begrudgingly trudge into work knowing that any small glimmer of productivity that was to be had today has now been completely eclipsed by my Death Hangover and Gerard Butler allergies. I was feeling pretty low. Now, we get to the part that talks about what this post is really about.

At some point during the day I half-heartedly stuck some Kleenex up my nose to dig around in there because everyone who has suffered from allergies knows that when one is under attack one is highly susceptible to what my sister refers to as "Bs in the C" or Bats in the Cave. What I pulled out gave me my first hint of excitement, adrenaline and a positive outlook for the day. Upon extracting the Kleenex from my left nostril, I discovered a tiny drop of bright red liquid. BLOOD!!!! The idea that I may have a nosebleed instantly made me feel better and made me forget about all my problems. Allergies? Pshh! Hangover? Whatever! To-Do List a mile long? Thbbt! Wandering aimlessly through adulthood? Talk to the hand! I am on top of the world now because I am bleeding out of my nose! I immediately began to go over the endless possibilities in my head. Could this just be a dry nostril? No, I quickly pushed that thought aside, for that possibility would kill my adrenaline buzz. I continued; maybe I got punched in the nose last night and don't remember and am just now feeling the affects? Ebola? Maybe it is some kooky new disease from Europe that no one in America has ever seen before and I will be the first to be diagnosed and a medical marvel and people will come from all over the world to study me? I had visions in my head of blood just running down my face in two rivers and pooling in my lap as everyone around me stared, horrified and feeling bad for me. I never get nosebleeds! This was so exciting! In second grade, this kid Michael who rode my bus used to get nosebleeds almost every day. Every time it happened, Michael would yell, "my nose is bleeding! It's happening again! Help! Help!" and the bus driver would pull over and stop the bus just to give Michael a Kleenex and tell him to hold his head back. Michael was the most popular kid on our bus. I wanted that fame and glory. Every day for almost a year I sat in the very back of the bus all alone with a dry nose and no one to talk to while Michael hogged all the attention in the front of the bus. Now was finally my chance! I had to do something to draw attention to my nosebleed so that everyone would crowd around me and offer me tissues and candy and other various gifts of sympathy. Alas, when I stuck my Kleenex back up in my left nostril to draw out more proof of my dire situation, nothing came out. I was confused and hurt. I tried to jam the Kleenex up further but that still did not yield any results. I was crushed. I had wanted so badly to have an actual messy nosebleed, health consequences be damned! I should have been glad that I did not have a bloody nose because I had recently contracted Ebola but I was not. How messed up is that? I know I'm not the only person out there who secretly covets the nosebleeds of others. That's okay, you don't have to admit it but I know you're out there.