Hives 2: The Hivening
Holy sweet fuck. This is so motherfucking bad.
The thing is, I went and got a cortizone shot yesterday, and it totally helped! For twelve sweet blissful hours, my skin was pale and smooth, like it's fucking supposed to be. And then I set off for the office, thinking, hey, I can go to the doctor, get some booster meds maybe, but at least people won't be staring at me like I'm a freak.
Oh no. Not so fucking fast, honey.
During the 20 minute tram ride, I sat there and watched the tell-tale Hives of Destruction raising their ugly heads on the backs of my palms. Please Lord, no, I thought. Caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way up to my floor--yep, back to looking like a smallpox patient. Bloody fuck, it was so tantalizing. Now it looks like I'm going to spend my weekend (knock on wood that it's no longer than that) bouncing back and forth between high hopes and disaster. I don't see how I can go to the pig-slaughtering weekend*, either, which means my sweet private lesson family is going to be all hurt and sad and think I hate them. RRRRrrrrgggg. I need prayers and exorcism, people.
*The awesome Czech family that I teach is having a huge pig-slaughtering party at their weekend cottage. This is apparently trés Czech and very traditional.
The thing is, I went and got a cortizone shot yesterday, and it totally helped! For twelve sweet blissful hours, my skin was pale and smooth, like it's fucking supposed to be. And then I set off for the office, thinking, hey, I can go to the doctor, get some booster meds maybe, but at least people won't be staring at me like I'm a freak.
Oh no. Not so fucking fast, honey.
During the 20 minute tram ride, I sat there and watched the tell-tale Hives of Destruction raising their ugly heads on the backs of my palms. Please Lord, no, I thought. Caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way up to my floor--yep, back to looking like a smallpox patient. Bloody fuck, it was so tantalizing. Now it looks like I'm going to spend my weekend (knock on wood that it's no longer than that) bouncing back and forth between high hopes and disaster. I don't see how I can go to the pig-slaughtering weekend*, either, which means my sweet private lesson family is going to be all hurt and sad and think I hate them. RRRRrrrrgggg. I need prayers and exorcism, people.
*The awesome Czech family that I teach is having a huge pig-slaughtering party at their weekend cottage. This is apparently trés Czech and very traditional.
posted by ridley at 11/19/2004 02:34:00 AM
1 Comments:
i've heard many a story about a pig guttin. they sound like good fun...especially the part where they eat the raw heart and the "brain cheese". enjoy!
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