So I have been sick this past week. Very sick. So sick that my husband-who-never-takes-me-seriously-when-I'm-ill rushed me to the hospital last Saturday morning. I truly thought I was going to die, because I usually have to be bleeding from my eyeballs or barfing a lung before he'll even cast a cursory glance in my direction. (For the record--physicians aren't known for their bedside manner--when it comes to their family members, that is. That's all I'm saying. And I love you, Scott...thanks for being my doctor.)
A bojillion pills (seemingly), hours of sleep, and 6 days later I can now say that I am...not better. Not 100% that is, but I'm getting there. I've missed blogging...reading blogs...and keeping up with all of you. I feel detached, but give me a few days and I'll be back to normal. Keep in mind that normal is a relative term where I'm concerned. Sigh...
Onto what I really want to share with y'all.
Last Friday I announced that my boyfriend (Jason Statham, for those of you unaware) would be appearing on The Tonight Show. I DVRed it, of course, and finally sat down to watch on Monday evening, positive it would be the medicine I needed to boost my pathetically weak immune system. I just knew it would make me feel better.
I was wrong.
It started off well...Jason comes out looking delicious in a chocolate brown suit, smiling and just being his glorious self. (Hi, honey--yes, I am loving you all the way over here in Virginia. We'll chat soon, wink-wink.) Jay Leno rants and raves about how much he loves the Transporter flicks, how he digs Jason and is a big fan, and I'm all, "Yeah, Jay--rack 'em up, baby--rack 'em up--you're adding cool points by the minute."
Oh, she did NOT grab his arm. Oh, but she did.
You don't get the best of both worlds, Miley Montana. You are 16. He is 36. Even if we ignore the age issue there is the simple fact of the matter that he is my man. M-I-N-E.
I literally had to stop watching.
And then I got all riled up and darn if it didn't make me feel worse. He was my medicine, she was another strain of disease.
It's gonna take a few more days for me to get over this. Bear with me y'all...I'll keep busy by making dust rags out of Libbey's Hannah Blah-bana t-shirts & pajamas. Oh, and that poster hanging on the back of the playroom door? Yeah, we now have a new target for darts. I'm just sayin'.