The Cold of Doom OR Other Random Stuff That May or May Not Be Funny

This last week I got a cold.  Nasty, yucky cold.  Lots of sinus pressure.  I thought my head might explode.  And over the counter medications don't really work for colds.  Neither do prescription ones, but the doctors give you the kind where you pretty much sleep through the cold and wake up when it's all over.  I didn't, however, go to the doctor.  (I don't enjoy doctor's visits.  I have blogged on this matter before.  I probably will repeat myself.) (Oh, the hell with it.  I hate doctors.  They get stuck on the weight issue for every single frigging thing I ever go to them about.  I'm not going there for a stupid cold unless something awful happens that involves arterial spray and/or a bone sticking out of the fleshy parts of my body.)

Seriously, this is a picture of a cold virus.  I hate it.  It sucks.
Kind of like doctors and politicians.  Burn!

I dragged myself to Wally World for supplies.  There I haunted the cold medication section.  I got daytime caps for sinus/colds.  I got nighttime caps for sinus/colds.  (I didn't buy the sinus/cold tabs for early morning.  I have to draw the line someplace.)  I got saline solution mixes for my neti pot.  (Neti pot is something you put water and saline solution and flush out your sinus's.  It's loads of fun especially when it accidentally drains down your throat and you gag but it does seem to shorten the lifespan of the demonic cold.)

I went out of the cold section and got cans of chicken noodle soup.  (Come on, didn't your mom force chicken soup on you when you had a cold as a kid?  Or maybe tomato soup with goldfish in it?  (Bonus points for sinking goldfish.)  You remember you swore you wouldn't do that as a parent, but you do it anyway.)

Then I rounded up with the cold remedy trifecta with a visit to the Kleenex department.  (Who knew that they have ten different types of Kleenex's?  With lotion.  Without lotion.  With cotton puffiness.  Without cotton puffiness.  Gold plated?  Bamboo recycled hankies?  Seriously?)

I like this cold virus better because it looks all red and evil.  Also it's floating
in the air and ready to kick unsuspecting people's immune systems.
It's a bad boy virus and not afraid to let you know.

Then I visited the DVD section for support.  Also because I'm going to go on a tangent that's indirectly related to Walmart.  Last week, Cressy, our daughter who is 7 and realizing that she has more power than she previously thought, was being instructed to go to bed on a weeknight.  She came to me and said, "Mommy, you're lucky you get to stay up."  I said, "Well, you need a good night's sleep for school tomorrow."  (Standard Mommy line, feel free to use it.  I think I stole it from someone.)  "But you get to stay up," she whined.  I folded like a cheap suit at a laundromat.  I said, "You can stay up on Friday night as long as you want."  She didn't seem particularly mollified, so I threw in a bonus, "And you can watch a scary movie."  (It's October and WTH?  I was already weak with insidious cold germs so I was overwhelmed by her big blue eyes blinking pleadingly at me.)  She smiled and said, "Goody."

I really wanted to get The Creature From the Black
Lagoon for Cressy to watch but I couldn't
find it at Walmart.  I don't remember
the creature actually carrying the hot babe in the
white swimsuit in the movie.  Come on, what's
he really going to do with her?  Wait for her to
drop her eggs in a rocky crevice
and then fertilize them?
(Something icky just popped into
my head.)

Discussing with Woody what scary movie she would watch was interesting.  Having already blogged about my elementary aged experiences with scary movies shown to me by my parents, I knew that it had to be fairly mundane.  (I.e., no blood, guts, decapitations, chainsaws, intestines tied into knots by crafty serial killers.)  I decided to check out Wally World for their Halloween selection and see if I could come up with a contender.  (I told you I was getting to the connection.)  Since I was sick and needed cold remedies in urgent amounts I combined the trip.

Well, you had to know that I was going to add alternative dialogue that
should have been in the movie but got deleted because of
narrow-minded censors.

At the DVD section at Walmart, they had such stellar 'R' rated examples of Scream, Hellraiser, and Spongebob: Halloween (which isn't really 'R' rated, but it ought to be).  And they had...Frankenstein.  I'm talking about the Boris Karloff one.  We had a winner!

Going through the line at the front was fun.  The clerk looked at my cold stuff and the DVD and backed away from me.  She also reached for her GermX.  Maybe I had the plague.  Fortunately for her I didn't sneeze in her direction, but I was tempted to fake it.  (Colds make me cranky.)

Hey, he was just a slimy fish guy with a need for a little
friendly companionship in his big, black lagoon.  It could
happen.

At home, I told Cressy I had a scary movie.  I said, "It's Frankenstein."  She was all like, "Who's that?"  I said, "He's a scientist who makes a monster out of dead human body parts."  She was like, "Gross.  Can I have popcorn with it?"

On Friday night I was sitting there all stuffed up with a dry mouth from the cold medicine, wondering if I had to rewrite everything I've written that week.  (Writing while on cold medicine doesn't necessarily produce anything worth reading or even selling.  It's probably interesting but I don't think the Bubba fans want to hear about cold-medication-inspired delusions of Bubba flying through the air in an antique, iridescent Chevy truck.  Just saying.)  Cressy invited the kid from next door to participate in their Friday night scare fest.

And now I'm just getting weird.

The movie started.  The kids gave it a college try but I guess since the blood and guts wasn't flying everywhere, they gave up about thirty minutes later.  They crawled up and down the hallway playing cats and dogs because monsters constructed from stolen, deceased corpses wasn't as fascinating as I thought.

I should have gotten The Green Slime.

You can't say that wasn't cool and all sixties-y.  See I have Pinpointed How I Became Warped or It Was All My Father's Fault.  Then read It Was Really Mom's Fault Or How I Stand Corrected (Or How I Sit In Front of the Computer Corrected).

Anyway, the kid announced ten minutes past her usual bedtime that she was tired and was ready to go to bed.  Ten minutes.  Wow.  The next day she explained to me that Frankenstein was lame because it was in black and white.  Obviously a color movie would have not been lame.  WTFWIT?

But the cold's getting better.