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.

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At...

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...

Protesting at Funerals: A Look at the Deranged and Demented

I normally like to write about funny things. (At least they are things that I find funny.) They are usually attempts to be funny in a ha-ha kind of way, although sometimes I will throw in something that's funny in a weird way, just to shake things up. But what I want to write about now isn't funny at all. It is shocking and horrific. There was a girl from my home town who was murdered at Auburn University last week. Her name was Lauren Burk and she was 18. She went to our local high school and although I didn't know her many of my friends children did. She's being buried today. Her family is, naturally, heartbroken. It was a random, tragic and violent attack. That's really bad enough. My husband drove by the funeral home yesterday and noticed that there was a small army of Harley Davidson riders holding American flags. They appeared to be guarding the memorial service. It turns out that they were asked to be there to protect the family because a group called the We...

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