the coolest thing about g’s camera phone is that it comes with a flash. boo-yeah.

but before i begin, i’d like to thank all my well-wishers. and for those who haven’t wished me well, well, let’s just say i’m gonna be coming afer your tonsils with a grapefruit spoon. and you know who you are, so hop to it.

much of this won’t make sense – let’s face it, if i were capable of coherent thought, i’d be studying corporations instead of whinging about the continental-sized blood clots sitting in the back of my throat.

which reminds me — happy birthday, brother.

but back to the saga. there’s only so much tapioca, butterscotch, and chocolate pudding an adult can eat. granted, when it’s spiked with percocet and klonopin and antibiotics it’s slightly more appetizing, but the granularity of the consistency leaves something to be desired.

give me liquid morphine. give me banana-flavored amoxycillin drops. give me a swift blow to the temple with a sledgehammer. but enough of these nasty-tasting, sandpaper-like pills.

notes on sleeping with no tonsils

1. air conditioning is bad. it dries out the air. you sleep with your mouth open (much to the chagrin of whoever you share a room with). you wake up in pain. this is exacerbated by an overhead fan.

2. hallucinations of your mother at four a.m. aren’t welcome. got that, mom? you’re in mexico; stay in mexico. i don’t need you telling me that i’ve missed a med or two. or that i should really be studying corporations.

3. dogs. i’m on the fence about dogs. when they sleep the foot of the bed all day long, they’re fine. when they go on a barking jag for no reason at two in the afternoon, i feel the stirrings of genetically-programmed caninicide. dad, you’ll know what i’m talking about.

oh, and a final note before i knock myself out again. no matter unhappy the transplanted caribbean red hot pepper looks, and i mean NO MATTER HOW UNHAPPY, don’t drag your narrow ass into the garden to water it. if it dies, it dies. better it than you. really.