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Wednesday, 03 December
More Notes From The Diseased
Okay, I am well and truly sick now--yesterday I stayed home from work, and yet somehow felt the rotten urge to check work email remotely, which I did; I answered two questions from panicky Canadian doctors, shivering sweatily in my cotton robe, which felt decidedly weird, because I was foggy and all, and I truly hope I didn't lapse into some febrile kind of fugue state and tell them something baffling, e.g.: "Skot, blah blah bone marrow aspirate blah blah inconclusive dibble wingnut is this patient eligible for the trial? "Dear Canuck doctor. Feed the patient bacon. You should also get a dog. Dogs are so nice. P.S. I need rigid discipline at all times. Call me, lover." Also, feeling crappy all the time isn't really conducive to bringing the funny much, unless it's in a very Krusty-ish vein: "Hey hey! I coughed so hard today I almost vomited! Mhoohoohoohahaha!" Which really did happen, charmingly; it's one of those wonderful things about being a smoker: despite the fact that you know that it will make you wheeze and cough (even more than usual) and that it will really taste like freshly grated ass, your brain inexorably snarls at you to smoke anyway, maggot! And so you do, and so you cough, and so you nearly vomit, and so your brain goes, "Well, that's what you get for being such a total dong. Drop and give me twenty, maggot!" I am of course only drill instructor-level tough in my head. Actual dropping and giving of said twenty probably would make me vomit, if only out of sheerest disgust that I was actually doing exercise. But I did manage to crawl unhappily to work this morning. I stopped at my usual coffee joint, but coffee sounded just dreadful, so I pondered the tea menu. I don't generally do tea--actually, it occurs to me, I only drink it when I'm sick--so staring at the menu was really just an exercise in futility. But you do it anyway, kind of like when people stare at the Rosetta Stone, patiently waiting for it to somehow make sense, when what it actually is is just a meaningless jumble of incomprehensible bullshit. And here is where I get to blame Star Trek: TNG for a little problem that I've always have. See, as I said, I don't know jack about tea. But I have, over the course of my indefensible life, watched every single episode of that fucking show multiple times, even the shatteringly boring ones that are all about Worf. So here is the sum total of my knowledge regarding tea: "Uhl Grey! HAWT!" I am incapable of thinking about Earl Grey, in fact, without mentally adopting Patrick Stewart's RADA-perfected intonation. And so, inevitably (I honestly realized this just this morning) whenever, in the past, that I have become sick, and ordered tea, I have always ordered Earl Grey. And, it hit me again this morning, as I sipped my freshly brewed tea: I fucking hate Earl Grey. It tastes like boiled despair. But since I never order tea, and I go so long between drinks of it, I manage to forget, every time, that I find the stuff thoroughly dreadful. And mark my words, in a year, year and a half, whatever, the next time I get sick, you'll be able to find me staring beetle-browed at a tea menu, only to finally rasp out, "Earl Grey, please." I might be proof that Darwin was a babbling wombat. If I were Early Man, I'd probably cheerfully try several times to domesticate hungry cougars. Kitty cat! I will hold him and pet him and love him and OH GOD BAD KITTY EATS MY HEAD! Anyway. When I did get into work, I ran into bosslady, who gave me the once-over. "You look foul," she said, quite accurately. "Are you sure you want to be here?" I stared whitely at her, measuring my response. "I rarely want to be here," I didn't say. She continued on: "If you need to take off, you go ahead, all right?" (She's actually a pretty good egg.) "Ogay," I croaked. And then--you can almost see it coming if you squint--she said: "You should have some tea!" No thanks, bosslady, but that's sweet. Instead, I went downstairs to smoke and cough and nearly vomit. It beat the shit out of Earl Grey. Note: Comments are closed on old entries. Comments Even at your sickest and most unfunniest you're funnier than some of us poseurs out here. Can't really help on the what-kind-of-tea-to-have front, but I CAN tell you that you're an idiot for working if your boss offers you an out. Come on, man. Go home and watch the Price is Right. Order Darjeeling. Also, you really really need to learn about tea, just so you can appreciate the pure absurdity of tea grades, where (for real), "Fancy Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe" is the grade given to a good tea. Honey. No, I'm not addressing you; I'm suggesting something that helps. Personally, I like Earl Grey a lot (it's my fav), but I rarely drink tea without adding a little bit of honey (seems to help it a little). Then again, I rarely drink tea any more since I swore off caffine several years ago. But when I DO drink tea... About a teaspoon of honey helps out immensely. There's also this "constant comments orange tea" or something like that... (ugh, can't remember the exact name) I seem to remember enjoying. You know... if you ever decide to try tea again or something. I'm *so* glad I'm not the only one. I wanted to be all cool and "Earl Gray, Hot!" too and man I think that stuff is disgusting. The only thing I like is chai, and that's because it's all milky and sweet (which probably isn't the best idea when you have a cold). actually, you should have some valeria tea, the plant that makes valium, it knocks you on your ass. I just wanted to say that "boiled despair" is the best phrase I've ever heard. Also, I agree with you. Skot, why for make you so with the tea hatred? Cozy up with a mugga herb tea with honey and lemon, and in no time at all, you'll once again be coughing without feeling like vomiting. I recommend chamomile, but be sure to get it from a tea shop that can guarantee that no child labor was involved in the harvesting. "It tastes like boiled despair." That is fucking GENIUS. Jeez, Skot. Tea of all varieties SUCKS and it's about time you figured that out. 24th century magictea may be fine for galaxy-cruising communists but today's tea LICKS ASS. I recommend Orange Juice, the Official Drink of Liberty. yet another boring tea recommendation: chamomile with honey and lemon. really helps the pipes when you're sick. orange juice is good too, if you can handle the burning fires of hell that the acid will impose on your already shredded throat. "boiled despair" is the best thing i have heard in ages. maybe you should drink nyquil and write some more! I was raised drinking tea probably eight times a day. No wonder I'm such a twitchy wreck now. Always the same: Typhoo Tea, which is a really good English brand that we got from horribly abusing the natives in India or something. When I had a sore throat or a cold or, you know, typhoid or something, the cure was always MORE TYPHOO! And the key to it was that it had to be insanely hot when you drank it. Of course, this tea had to be consumed with milk, as is only right and intended by God, but when ill, the milk addition was limited and you had to pour that scalding brew down your windpipe. Turns out third degree burns in your esophagus really take your mind off the croup. When I get sick, I still drink scalding hot Typhoo. Or sometimes I get achieve sentience and opt for peppermint tea. Also, try whisky with lemon and a little butter melted in it. It may not be the most efficacious of medicinal compounds, but after three you won't care. I'd just like to say that I apologize for the length of that comment. Also, try whisky with lemon and a little butter melted in it. This sounds great. The wife will make me hot toddys when I'm ailing, which is always just fine too. Where can I order my Izzle Pfaff mug, in white porcelain with plain black letters saying "Boiled Despair"? Money not an issue. Steaming hot pickle juice is also great when you have a cold. Of course, I drink it every day, and I never get sick. I buy a gallon of pickles every Monday at WalMart, for less than three bucks. The empty jars are great for brewing herbal sun tea! Second the Typhoo, or similar brit tea. Second the whiskey. Second the mug saying "Boiled Despair" -- brilliante. Second the suggestion of going home. Just want to say that, if this boiled pickle juice person is serious, he/she needs to get some help A.S.A.fuckingP. I firmly believe that for pure, scathing horror you can't beat chrysanthemum tea. Seriously, go to a Chinese restaurant and order it the next time you're unbeatably chipper. It'll have you whimpering in flower-despising nausea in no time. It's boiled flowers. Sorry, but chrysanthemums don't even _smell_ particularly delightful. Now boil them and drink the hoary offal. Order refills for the kids. What's next, "roasted salmon cock infusion"? *weeps* I'm with you Avo. TEA SUCKS! yes! "...how awful is the interface to the replicators in the TNG-timeframe Star Trek shows.
IME LOOKING FOR A HOT TODDY RECEIPT FOR A COLD http://www.idrink.com/drinks/Hot_Toddy.htm To get that, I typed '"hot Toddy" recipe' into Google. 5 seconds. cf. The Brunching Shuttlecocks' "Kitchen Floor" sequence. Post a comment |