Oh my gosh, you guys, you should hear my voice. It's hilarious. This would be a good time to take up singing. I've never been able to carry a tune, but I doubt anyone would notice at this point. I think it sounds like Melissa Ethridge in horrible pain... which is kind of how she always sounds anyway.
You know what's really funny? I keep having coughing fits that are so strong, my puke reflex becomes confused and thinks I'm trying to hurl, so... I do. I hurl. I cough until I can't breath, with tears streaming down my face, then just for a fun finish, I vomit. How's that for good times? I tell ya, I'm having more fun than a band of drunk monkeys.
I'm going to watch the House marathon today (yes, seriously, there is another House marathon on- I wouldn't kid about something like that) because I'm thinking maybe I can get a diagnosis. His team will say I have sarcoidosis. Maybe it's autoimmune. House will say it is Cushing's. (**Drama Queen Alert**) Then I will curl up in a corner and cry for my mother as I wait for death. Of course, she will not recognize my voice, and Melissa Ethridge's mom will show up instead, and there will be this whole awkward, embarrassing thing... But, then, I will die. Possibly in her arms. I don't know, we'll just have to see how it goes.
I wish to be buried in my Wonder Woman t-shirt. And unless someone wants to pluck my eyebrows, we should probably leave the casket closed. I've been a little lax with the personal hygiene lately. Please put my brand new white Nikes in the casket with me. I hardly got to wear them, so by golly, those suckers are coming with me.