In addition to having the Bird Flu, I am now on NyQuil.
Here is the poem I am writing whilst on NyQuil:
Sentence structure, sloppy vision,
Can’t control my syntaxical decisions.
I smell like a sick person,
(whatver the hell that smells like),
But it so happens that I’m tired.
Little green caplets filled with alcohol.
Congratulations on making it to the end of this.
Because I think I just fell asleep.
I’m just glad you don’t smell like the skitters because everytime I’m around you (in New York) you have the skitters.
No no no… I’m not convinced that I have Mumps. Who would have thought that it would have made such an excellent comeback? Mumps and Duran Duran.