Monday, May 22, 2006  

Clear?

"There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge."
-Hunter S. Thompson

Obviously, the good Doctor never heard of Claritin.

Oh, sure, it stops my sneezing. Quickly, too. And then I enjoy about forty-five sneeze-free minutes before I rapidly descend into a coma so profound that if I had a friend named Chief, he'd toss a sink through a window for me.

(From Thompson to Kesey just like that. I rule.)

The box, of course, claims that this shit is "non-drowsy." And it's technically true. I'm not drowsy. I'm vegetative. Until the speed on the back end hits me and I start grinding my teeth like a trailer park tweaker with a wool ski cap and a Robitussin moustache.

And still, this is preferable to my goddamn allergies.

I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm allergic to. I only know it's worse in New England than elsewhere, so it could be forsythia, ragweed, or condescending white people and the Puritan work ethic. I mean, I've always got a low-grade sniffle going, thanks mostly to our fatassed, wretched cat, who is as hairy as she is cunty and a complete failure as a pet as well. But it's gotten exponentially worse in the last week or so, and I'm getting really sick of it.

There is nothing that makes you feel like a bigger wuss than allergies. If you have a cold, you're under the influence of a virus, which is kind of a dark and edgy way to rock the Kleenex. But with allergies, you're getting your ass kicked by a fucking fern, and there's nothing you can do about it, killer. Your eyes puff up like you just had a good cry and your nose leaks wet, drippy snot that's 100% sniffle-proof and you just want to die. All the misery of a cold, but you get to look like a total pussy, too. THANKS, GENETICS! BAWK BAWK.