I’ve been down since late Sunday in pain with shingles, my fourth tour of adult chicken pox, but the worst I’ve ever had it. Ergo, posting has been nonexistent.
I don’t miss much work, but shingles is contagious to certain people (really old/really young) and I’m sure can be deadly for those who aren’t unbreakable like z’King. If you’re unfamiliar with shingles, it’s a nerve disorder brought on by stress, even though I’m fairly un-stressed. So, who knows.
Giants-Cowboys open the NFL tonight, and My Defending World Champion New York Football Giants (/mouthful) are inspiring the rare optimism in me. The Giants are notorious for following Super Bowl titles with lousy seasons, but this team seems different. Eli is in the prime of his career right now, and he was the prime mover behind our run last year so … we’ll see. I don’t hate the Cowboys (the Niners and the Iggles are the only NFL teams I truly loathe) so my blood won’t be boiling if the Giants have a poor showing, but I feel good about the team.
The Donkeys are counterprogramming the second-most-anticipated TV night on the calendar (1. Super Bowl – duh) with … Pres. Bill Clinton. Although a thousand jokes have been made about the Donkeys trying to campaign on the non-existent GOP War on Womynz, it’s telling that on the first night they presented a tribute to Teddy “The Short-Distance Swimmer” Kennedy, and tonight they’re featuring the world’s foremost cigar afficianado. I don’t get into argument with Donkey womynz about which party abuses womynz, because it’s too much fun to watch them swoon over the misogynistic heroes of their own party: my mouth says nothing, but my brow says “Keep fucking that chicken.”
Shingles is, in a sense, a million-dollar sickness. You can’t go to work, and you can’t really do anything, and yeah, it hurts like hell, but there’s no vomiting or being stopped up or the shitz or what have you, so you – or, well, I – just lay around the house like a pimpled yard dog watching Netflix. Having never seen the show, I started watching Breaking Bad on Monday and am now almost done with S3. The show is good, but I’d not be watching it were I not a captive audience passing time. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, allow me to spell it out:
- Devoted family man and high school teacher Walter White is diagnosed with terminal cancer
- Not wanting the bills to pile up on his wife and family, he decides to start cooking meth
- His meth is so good that hilarity ensues, and by hilarity I mean to say that nothing good ever happens to anyone ever
- And so forth.
High concept, well-executed, utterly depressing and – fwiw – LOL funny at times.
So there’s that. Assuming my shingles start receding, I hope to post a bit more than usual this week – I can’t return to work til Monday, so there’s that.
Good day – HAPPY FOOTBALL BIRTHDAY!