The best solution for a sore throat? A big, fat chocolate-covered Oreo from Donkers. It's rich and indulgant and...and...mmmm!
(The above statement proves just how irresponsible I am.)
Also high on the sore-throat solution list? Whining to everyone you know (if you have to suffer make others suffer), hot tea with lemon and honey (totally thought that was a wive's tale until yesterday), vapor-rub (it's a lot harder to use it when you have boobs. Then again, I haven't used the stuff since I was, like, ten.) and sleeping. Oooh, sleep, how I adore you. I slept for ten and a half hours last night. It was bliss. Yes, it meant missing film class, but, really--like I can't just rent Citizen Kane and watch it at my leisure this weekend.
So, yes, I'm sick. And so is Rexy, my car. What ails him now? A gas leak. Not exactly something you can ignore, especially when there's a dark puddle pooling under your car every time you park. Ugh. I brought it in yesterday for them to look at. Another $300 down the drain. Charming. This brings the total I've spent on my car to $1,000 in a month. All I can say is that Citibank looooves me. Or Rexy, I should say.
I just called to see if my car was done. The guy was like "there's a lot of rust under there that we have to work around. It could take a while." (Translation: Haha, sucker! We could charge you more for labor. FYI--nope, they can't. I signed the estimate agreement. Haha!) Great. Fabulous. Stunning. I KNOW my car has a lot of rust. It's like 13 years old for fuck's sake. Just don't try to tell me that all this other shit needs to be replaced because I won't do it. I can't hear you--lalalalaaa! I just need it to run. And, um, not fall apart when I'm driving down a freeway or leak when I'm parked. Is that too much to ask?
If anyone wants to contribute to the newly funded "Get Krissy an Awesome Car Fund" please, let me know.
In other news...a clue! I found a clue! Last night when I was plunking down my newly-laundered laundry and I saw something glinting off the lamp light. When I saw it I went apeshit. I began screaming, "a clue! A CLUE! A CLUE!!" Then tore around the apartment. My roommate thought I was insane. But! I found a clue! I felt like I was in Blues Clues, minus the blue pawprints. I! Found! My! Necklace! Kind of. I found the chain. Not the diamond star part, but the chain. Which means I probably didn't lose it at the bar or the pancake house or a parking lot. This is good. Very good. Now I have to tear apart my room.
I need a shower. And more vapor rub. And another chocolate-covered oreo. Yum.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~