I have AIDS. Okay, so not really but I tend to be very melodramatic and often times tell Dean that I believe I might have it because in reality, it would seem I have no immune system.
Dean got a flu shot a few days ago because the Army made him. Now, I don’t get a flu shot because I’m 29 and not really at risk of dying from the flu and as there is always a shortage of the shot I tend to turn them down so that people who need them can get one.
So, Dean gets his shot a few days ago and doesn’t tell me about it and then comes home and makes out with me.
Guess who now has the flu.
It’s me. I have the flu. I never leave the house, yet, I catch every bug on the planet. No one else in this house ever gets sick, but they all seem to carry the illnesses on home and graciously pass them on to me. I feel like the unhealthiest person on the planet.
“Dean, I have AIDS.” I say.
“You do not have AIDS, Kyra.” he replies.
“Maybe I do have it. Maybe it lies dormant for longer than they thought and I just keep testing negative for it.”
“No, Kyra. “
“Maybe I have just a little bit of AIDS,” I argue.
“Um… nope. No AIDS, Kyra. Not even just a little bit.”
We argue about this every single time I get sick. Which is all the time, really. Sometimes I get a bit of a runny nose and then other times I get hit full force with some lurking monster of a disease.
You would think that with all the bleach I’ve drank, I’d never be sick. I have drank so much bleach at this point that it doesn’t even make me barf anymore but I am curious as to who keeps putting the shit in my drinks. And, no, Rocket… I’m not actually joking this time.
The first time I drank bleach it was because Matt had sprayed some into the cup I was drinking out of. I had soda and ice and thought it was diluted looking because the ice melted a bit but it was actually diluted with about a half cup of bleach which I unknowingly guzzled down in one chug.
The burning in the back of my throat told me something wasn’t right and so I sniffed the cup and discovered the bleachy smell. Then, I chugged some milk and tried not to yak because I feared barfing up bleach and assumed it would burn really badly.
I was wrong. It didn’t hurt at all to barf up the bleach. In fact, I felt better immediately.
Since then, I have drank bleach a number of times and have only gagged a few of those times. I have no idea who keeps putting the shit in my drinks but I’m a bit annoyed by it as I really loathe the burning in the back of my throat that I get. My stomach, though, has adapted quite nicely to it and it no longer lurches.
I’m always accusing Dean of poisoning me and he denies it constantly but after he knowingly infected me with the flu… I feel my suspicions might be confirmed. He really hates it when I blog about his attempts on my life, but oh, well. Maybe if he’d stop drugging me all the time I’d believe that he wasn’t trying to kill me.
At any rate, I don’t understand why I keep getting sick when my innards are so damned clean.
Maybe I should switch to Lysol.