Thursday, October 23, 2003

I Feel Like My Own Private Turntable. 10.23.03

Pixel, you have vertigo. I have hives! It’s like a sympathetic malady! Wonder maladies powers, activate!

The tale—got home on Tuesday (where was the OC crew, hm?) and passed out, only to wake up in the middle of the night, and itching. Didn’t think much of it. Put on some lotion. Woke up again, itching. And the third time I was like, something’s not jake here. And look it! I’m all bumpy. I looked like Wolverine in issue #166 of the X-Men (published in 1981) where his healing factor is fighting the seed of the evil BroodQueen, who is using said seed to transform him into an alien Brood, but with his human healing factor and senses—though I question how that was going to work, since Wolverine’s Adamantium skeleton is human shaped and not fit to Brood-size—but I digress.

I decided to take a trip anyway, loaded up on Benadryl (the good stuff, knocks you right to the ground like Ike Turner). Myself and Arroz the Rice-A-Homie had plans to go down to Princeton. The town. For eatin’ + record shoppin’ (where we saw a J-Hayes clone) + pumpkin pickin’ + cider drinkin’…

By the end I was a squirming itchy mess. I just wanted you to know that. I still am! I’m covered in pink calamine lotion! I am especially itchy in the leg! Yeah!

Electric Honey, I am coming up with ideas for you, I meant to do it yesterday but I was halted by scratching. P.S. the Big N' Tasty rules.

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