Germ Bombing

Yeah, I just found this really funny.

Listening to Blackbird (the Glee version. I loved this, despite the fact that no one can do better than the Beatles.)
Also: sniffing, sneezing, and being generally miserable
    If you haven't already guessed, I'm sick. Why am I up at 12:30 you ask? Well you see, dear reader, medicine doesn't take effect instantly, despite the fact that I completely believed that as a child, so I'm waiting for my NyQuil to kick in. Sometime over the last few days I caught a cold. And boy, is it a doozie. I'm sneezing like mad, stuffy and runny, and I've got a good cough brewing, too. Top it off with a sore throat and all-around puniness, and that's something to shake your tissue box at. 
    Luckily, my English professor will be at a conference today, so I don't have to try to get up and drive myself to my 9:30 class. That would be a hazard to the general public, anyways. My last class isn't until 6:30 tonight, so I'll have all day to muster the strength to stumble to my car. 
    The downside to this (despite the obvious, which is the actual being sick part) is that I have a hair appointment on Friday morning, work Friday night and Saturday night, and some important things going on Sunday that I really need to be well for. Consequently, I have been drinking hot tea all day, popping Advil for my throat, and carrying around a roll of toilet paper like it's a fashion statement. I tried using that cherry-flavored throat spray that numbs your throat, but due to the fact that I'm eight years old and can't control my tongue, I ended up spritzing that about five times and couldn't feel my tongue for half an hour. Yes, I am a complete moron - even when I'm not sick. 
    I actually lost my voice this morning, which hasn't happened since high school. It was so weird for me, so foreign, that I kept forgetting even though my throat was/is killing me. Driving to class and blasting the same song on repeat on my iPod, I kept trying to sing along, and nothing came out. Talk about confusing. I sing constantly and when the only noise that came out was a strangled whimpering noise, I was super disoriented. 
    My current problem is the fact that one side of my nose is completely stuffed up. No air's getting up there. Now, when I was little, I had my own way of dealing with this. I'm talking ten and under. I used to roll up a tissue and stick it up my nose and just leave it there. In my thoroughly mistaken little mind, this served a dual purpose - both prying open my swollen airways, and catching the runny-ness. I severely doubt this actually helped anything, except aiding me in looking like an idiot, which I didn't need help with, believe me. Now, I just keep rolling over and over and over and over and... you get the picture.
    Well, I'm feeling heavy-lidded. Forget the teddy bear; tonight, my cuddle buddy is a roll of TP. I'll take Pathetic for a thousand, Alex.

Letters to Inanimate Objects 3/7

Listening to My Funny Valentine by THE Frank Sinatra (Love that man.)
Craving sushi from that lovely place on the square. 
    I was very close to doing this post earlier in the week - last week, that is - because things just kept HAPPENING and verbal letters were composed left and right. But it wasn't until tonight that I remembered a few of them, so here they are!

Dear little bottle of ginger in the spice cabinet,

    I get it. You're almost completely full. Still. I know you're a tad left out up there in the spice cabinet, on the rack with all the frequently used-spices. And I don't care if they do make fun of you, that's no reason to throw yourself from such a height. Onto my lunch. Twice. I'm sorry, but it wouldn't have worked out between the two of you anyways; goat cheese and ginger? That's like onions and chocolate, just a terrible mistake. Take some advice from the expert here and wait for The One. He'll probably be Asian.

Dear chapstick,

    Obviously you find this funny, this messed-up version of hide-and-seek you're playing. If you haven't noticed, I'm still seeking, and I called "Olly-olly-oxen-free." Why is it that you find it so convenient to hide whenever I need you? My chapped lips are not amused. 

Dear Tresor in Love from Lancome,

    You smell like heaven on a breezy afternoon. By a lazy stream in a sun-dappled meadow. Drenched in awesome-sauce with happy-sprinkles. And cinnamon. Because cinnamon is delicious.


    Sincerely,
Sarah Jane

Birfday

Currently listening to the Beauty and the Beast Soundtrack - I will never ever ever grow out of my love for this movie. I adore everything about it. Especially the music.
Wondering how it is that my bed and floor are once again hidden beneath a layer of freshly fallen laundry.
    For those of you unaware, and for those who care (that rhymed!!), my birthday was this past Sunday, the 27. I turned twenty, and it was lovely. Very little actually happened aside from traveling home from my grandparents' house, but I like that it was relaxed. My grandma and papa (Mom's parents) gave me a cookie cake and twenty-five dollars. Awesome-tastic.
   Funny story, actually... I had to sleep on an air mattress in the living room with my sister, and my cousin Aaron slept on the couch. Being the bright and shiny morning person that I am *insert heavy sarcasm here* I was the last to wake up. So Aaron took it upon himself to tickle me before I'd even opened my eyes. I completely spazzed, of course, and rolled myself up in a ball in the blankets to avoid being tickled again, which is when grandma marched in and said, "Get up, Sarah Jane! Happy birthday!" And as I uncovered my face, she plopped a cookie cake on my chest. I meant to say something like, "Yay! Thank you!" Or even, "I love cookie cake!" But what came out was, "Aungh!" which is a mix between a walrus and cow, in case you're wondering. I think I just sort of swallowed my words. I may have said thank you after that, but the first words that actually came out weren't words at all. (Side note: I can't remember if it was Aaron or his twin brother Andrew, but last time we all spent the night up at grandmas, I was sleeping on a pallet on the floor, and one of them grabbed my feet and drug me halfway into the hallway to get me up. I don't have the best experiences waking up at Grandma and Papa's..)
    Anyhoo. After driving home, I got a little package - my hair feathers! I have three in now, but I am not going to take a picture because I'm in my pajamas and look awful. I do, however, have a few pictures from my birthday dinner at a Thai restaurant. It was super delicious, but very rich, and (surprise!) made me extremely sick as soon as we got home, but it was worth it. I literally can't eat without being sick... Of course I can't not eat without being sick, either. The conundrum of my stomach issues. Without further ado, pictures!

My sister Maggie and I.

Maggie and I again, but from an exciting new angle!

"Pretend to blow out the candle!" Maggie said. This is the result. Afterward I laughed on my dessert and accidentally blew out the candle. Fail.

    When we got home, Corey and his friend Jeremy came over, and it was oodles of laughs and giggles. Only not from Corey and Jeremy. Because they're men, and men do not giggle. They chuckle. Also, "Men aren't ticklish," Corey says. "They're sensitive." I laughed at that one. Mostly because he's completely ticklish. But I digress.
    After working on a delightful paper which made me want to pluck out my eyeballs with a pin (Oedipus, anyone?) I chanced upon an intriguing little fragment from Frost at Midnight, a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The "sole unquiet thing". He's referring to a piece of soot fluttering on the grate of a fireplace, which supposedly signaled a stranger coming to visit, but I really like the way it sounds. "Sole unquiet thing." I kind of want to change my blog title to that. Any thoughts?