So I definitely arose early Monday morning at my normal Monday time: around 8:00AM. Upon my awaking I soon discovered that I had grown terribly ill throughout the night. My body said, "Ned, go back to sleep you rotten son of a *edit*." My body was quite angry, therefore I listened. My sweet mother came in to check on me due to the fact that I had not shown my face when I normally do. I told her this around 9:30AM: "Get me doctor." I said this with a groaning and muffled tone. She knew I meant business. The phone was connected to the local doctor soon after I told her what to do, I now had a doctor's appointment at 10:15AM. I was psyched to get there. Excited to get well, and enjoy the day as any normal human would, but things only got worse. My symptoms consisted of:
1. Headache
2. Dizziness
3. Nausea
4. Body Aches
5. Throat soreness/swelling
5. Wanting to die
As you can see they were quite serious. Hence the reason why I was going to the doctor's office. However, he didn't have much to tell me. He checked my throat, swabbed it with two swab sticks, and then preceded to test the swabs for the ever so popular Strep Throat Syndrome. The test came back negative. I let out a firm holler of victory, but I was only rewarded with a hacking cough and more splitting pain in my brain. He told me, "No school or work for you today mister. Get some *edit* rest you *edit*." I have a very sailor like doctor, well at least his mouth words are consistent with a sailors. He frightened me with those words, so I listened. I went home and jumped my jolly ol' sick self onto the couch and slept from 11:30AM through 6:00PM. I wasn't kidding around. I was one sick mother trucker, and I was going to sleep the hell out of my sickness. Yet, the sickness had a mind of it's own and had decided, with out my consent, to make my body feel even crappier when I woke up. I thought to myself as I lay in the fetal position, I can't let the sickness be the boss of me. I have to be the boss of it.
And from then on, I was the boss of the sickness.
The sickness told me to go back to sleep. Strictly, I told the sickness to go find another body to consume. 'Cause I definitely wasn't about to let it have it's way with me. So I sat on the couch, and I waited for the sickness to leave. While I waited, I indulged in some media by the way of Television. I soaked it in with hopes of replacing the sickness with the liberal and biased views the media seems to spit out like venom from a poisonous badger. Then I began thinking 'bout more important things. Like, for example, if poisonous badgers even exist? Perhaps they do. Perhaps they do not. I honestly didn't have a clue.
The poisonous badgers became the least of my concerns, the sickness was still in control of me. I decided to feed my body something that would say "Get the hell out of my body, the sickness." Soup was the answer. Soup and hot tea. In fact, soup and tea were the answer. I downed them both, and for about two and half minutes, I felt quite better. Then it hit me again. The sickness wasn't F'ing Around. Nine o'clock PM came around, and this littler blogger decided to watch the Monday Night Football game. A grueling match between the NY Giants and the team with no city, New Orleans Saints. That bothered me. Who did the saints have to fight for? Not their hometown, it had been devastated by Hurricane Katrina just weeks prior to this game. They had absolutely no heart, and it showed. They were throwing interceptions out like Jimmy Falon throws out bad jokes on SNL. Jimmy Falon sucks, big time. I decided to go to bed around... Eh, let's say 11:00PM. So I could get a full nights rest, with hopes of waking in the morning feeling refreshed and energized, and with at least three less of the symptoms listed above.
So far that is not what is happening. I woke up at 1:30AM and have not been able to go back to my slumber sleep since. That is why I am writing about the sickness right now. Just to show others out there in the gigantic world that this is what the sickness does to you. It makes you feel like *edit*. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, *edit*. I urge all of you fans of me, Ned Kimmel, to fight the sickness with a clenched fist and harsh words. Do not, I repeat, do not let it take control of you. Amen.
Nathaniel Drew Kimmel
"Go back to bed you rotten son of a *edit*."
Ned Kimmel's body
1. Headache
2. Dizziness
3. Nausea
4. Body Aches
5. Throat soreness/swelling
5. Wanting to die
As you can see they were quite serious. Hence the reason why I was going to the doctor's office. However, he didn't have much to tell me. He checked my throat, swabbed it with two swab sticks, and then preceded to test the swabs for the ever so popular Strep Throat Syndrome. The test came back negative. I let out a firm holler of victory, but I was only rewarded with a hacking cough and more splitting pain in my brain. He told me, "No school or work for you today mister. Get some *edit* rest you *edit*." I have a very sailor like doctor, well at least his mouth words are consistent with a sailors. He frightened me with those words, so I listened. I went home and jumped my jolly ol' sick self onto the couch and slept from 11:30AM through 6:00PM. I wasn't kidding around. I was one sick mother trucker, and I was going to sleep the hell out of my sickness. Yet, the sickness had a mind of it's own and had decided, with out my consent, to make my body feel even crappier when I woke up. I thought to myself as I lay in the fetal position, I can't let the sickness be the boss of me. I have to be the boss of it.
And from then on, I was the boss of the sickness.
The sickness told me to go back to sleep. Strictly, I told the sickness to go find another body to consume. 'Cause I definitely wasn't about to let it have it's way with me. So I sat on the couch, and I waited for the sickness to leave. While I waited, I indulged in some media by the way of Television. I soaked it in with hopes of replacing the sickness with the liberal and biased views the media seems to spit out like venom from a poisonous badger. Then I began thinking 'bout more important things. Like, for example, if poisonous badgers even exist? Perhaps they do. Perhaps they do not. I honestly didn't have a clue.
The poisonous badgers became the least of my concerns, the sickness was still in control of me. I decided to feed my body something that would say "Get the hell out of my body, the sickness." Soup was the answer. Soup and hot tea. In fact, soup and tea were the answer. I downed them both, and for about two and half minutes, I felt quite better. Then it hit me again. The sickness wasn't F'ing Around. Nine o'clock PM came around, and this littler blogger decided to watch the Monday Night Football game. A grueling match between the NY Giants and the team with no city, New Orleans Saints. That bothered me. Who did the saints have to fight for? Not their hometown, it had been devastated by Hurricane Katrina just weeks prior to this game. They had absolutely no heart, and it showed. They were throwing interceptions out like Jimmy Falon throws out bad jokes on SNL. Jimmy Falon sucks, big time. I decided to go to bed around... Eh, let's say 11:00PM. So I could get a full nights rest, with hopes of waking in the morning feeling refreshed and energized, and with at least three less of the symptoms listed above.
So far that is not what is happening. I woke up at 1:30AM and have not been able to go back to my slumber sleep since. That is why I am writing about the sickness right now. Just to show others out there in the gigantic world that this is what the sickness does to you. It makes you feel like *edit*. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, *edit*. I urge all of you fans of me, Ned Kimmel, to fight the sickness with a clenched fist and harsh words. Do not, I repeat, do not let it take control of you. Amen.
Nathaniel Drew Kimmel
"Go back to bed you rotten son of a *edit*."
Ned Kimmel's body
posted by Ned at 12:44 AM
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