You fuckers.
I’m getting sick, and this is probably your fault. Allow me to explain what happened here:
First, you got sick, probably because you’re out having wild drug rampages every night and not sleeping enough or rampaging on the right drugs. Meanwhile, I’m sleeping like a baby because I don’t have a million thoughts running through my head like, “Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have done that” or “Oh shit, why did I do that?”
Next, you show up the same place as me. But you never tell me you’re sick. You wait until I hear you speak enough that I go, “Wait, why do you sound like someone is holding your nose shut and pouring syrup down your throat?
Then, and this is the worst part of all, you tell me you’re not contagious. This is one of the biggest lies perpetrated on me. If you’re telling me you’re not contagious, you better have a goddamn labcoat on and be holding a printout I don’t even fucking understand. Because how do you know? Even if your doctor said so, he probably just wanted you to get the fuck out of his office before you got him sick, so he told you the thing that would get you out the fastest.
THEN, we hang out for the night. I’m all nice and shit, meanwhile you’re going through my things and spreading germs all the fuck over. I’m trying to buy you a drink when I realize that you’re going through my wallet back at the table.
Then we wait for two weeks. It’s like a landmine waiting to blow some Asian kid’s leg off, just waiting. It’s a lot like that because most of the time I get so pissed off about being sick that I’ll hack a Asian kid’s leg off. Enjoy Dance, Dance, Revolution now, you piece of shit.
Now is the part where I get sick and everyone gives me the most helpful advice. Hey, drink lots of fluids, excluding all the ones you actually like. Get lots of rest. It helps to lie in bed all day and really focus on the fever pain.
Oh, and by the way, this is a company I normally believe in, but Fuck You, Netflix. Somehow you always know when I’m sick and stick me with the shittitest movies I picked out myself.
Finally, I get better. Then I go back to my life and everyone says something like, “You must feel a lot better,” almost like they’re implying, “You are so fucking lazy for being sick. Hope it was worth it. You’ve been doing jack shit while I’ve been doing all this stuff with lungs that function.”