Dry and Hacking, Shoulders Slacking

Sometimes, when I get sick, I get a dry, hacking cough. It is - how do you say in your language - tres sexy. On more than one occasion this has happened and someone I don't know well has offered me a cough drop. When you have a dry, hacking cough you are at the mercy of others. Your eyes water mercilessly so you can't see anything. And you obviously can't talk, what with all the dry hacking. So you blindly nod your head.

Inevitably your "savior" will hand you something from the dark and wet recesses of their handbag. It will be partially unwrapped with a chunk missing. And let's not forget all of the hair and bits of crap stuck to it. Suddenly it looks like a lint brush that is four inches wide. Your head pulls back in fear as it is being passed towards your face.

What to do? WHAT TO DO??? Wipe it on your sleeve? Blow on it?? Throw it and run away?!

The irony is that everyone in the room is horribly annoyed by you and your dry hacking. They stare at you expectantly, waiting for you to take the stupid lozenge so you'll no longer be spreading the bubonic plague. So, you man up, stick it in your mouth and hope that nothing resembling a pubic hair get stuck between your teeth. You are then expected to nod your head and smile thoughtfully at the lozenge giver, not unlike you've had a sip of exceptional wine.

In other coughing news, you may already know this, but one of the most horrible sights in the world is a naked woman who is in mid-hacking cough. I happened to notice this phenomen the last time I got sick. I had undressed for bed and was sitting in front of the bathroom mirror with the closet mirror behind me.

Suddenly I had a coughing fit and happened to glance in the mirror behind me midway through the fit. Sweet niblets. It was horrifying. Slack shoulders, heaving up and down. Skin pulled taut, just trying to keep up with the shoulders. And this is why, folks, that whenever I'm sick I always wear a parka. Now you know.

Bex, OUT.

Florida: The Good. The Bad. The Holy SHIT!!!

So you know...I live in Florida now. The good news is that my southern accent is stronger than ever - I think it was some sort of defense mechanism...of or for what, I have no idea. I definitely miss Atlanta and my friends, though, especially now. Spring in Atlanta is SO beautiful. But Florida is pretty nice, too. We go to the beach at least once a week and we all love having a pool in the backyard. Also, my husband makes me a Planter's Punch every night and I don't even feel guilty by knocking it back - we're on vacation, right?? A couple of weeks ago I was reading the news and saw this weird picture: In case your eyes can't make sense of it, I'll give you a hint. It's not a puppy. I'm guessing it's not an air freshener, either. It is, in fact, a Burmese Python that ruptured and now has a really big dead Alligator sticking out of it's stomach. Oh, and something ate the snakes head off. That's why there is no head there. National Geographic has

Oooohhh...I just LOVE when you wrap it around me... do it again, please?

I had heard that "crack" kills. I just never really believed it until I saw it with my own eyes. (Bless his heart.) About 3 years ago I was 6 months pregnant and had two daughters (aged 4 and 5). We were all traveling from Bellingham, WA to Atlanta, GA with a VERY brief layover in Dallas. We were booked on a major airline that should remain anonymous as they are a bunch of asshats (but they rhyme with "Mamerican Mairlines") and we had to leave for the airport at 3:30 AM in order to catch our 7AM flight. It was Suck City. By the time our car arrived in Seattle my husband and I were barely speaking to each other and the girls had marks on their faces and arms from the backseat smack-down they had while out of our reach. When I went to the counter to speak with the representative she informed me that even though our seats had been purchased many months ago and seat assignments had been given all of that had changed and we were no longer sitting together as a family. I

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke

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