you know how rock radio stations have silly names for the days of the week? well, I dub this 'thuck you, thursday!'

So a couple weeks ago I was suffering from an acute case of the zombie virus. Perhaps you remember me writing ("I think she means 'whining,' you say. Ha ha! Good one, you!) about it. Oh, it looks like I wrote about it a few times. Nothing like beating a dying zombie corpse, eh? Anyway, I've really only been over the virus for about...wait a minute...let me check my watch...I'd say close to 45 minutes, but guess what, party people?

Yep. My Tool Man came home from another Mysterious Midwest Tool Job last night and was all, "Wah, wah, wah! I'm sick AGAIN," and if you're keeping score at home, you'd note that this is the THIRD time Tool Man has been sick in the last two months. Also, it's amazing that you'd know that because Tool Man is not jotting down his deepest and darkest on a blog of his own, and when I crack my knuckles and pound out these masterpieces, I like to make it All About Me, so I may have only wrote of his maladies one time when I mentioned my raging jealousy that he actually got real medicine when he visited the doctor, whereas I got nothing (and in return may have left a small damp spot on the tissue covering the exam table because, once again, let me shame myself by mentioning my cough-induced incontinence)(seriously, the only shame I have left at this point comes when I dance around the house to The Motels song of the same name).

So tonight, while Tool Man's nose dripped iridescent bubbles of snot and he moped about (seriously, people, be glad Tool Man doesn't have a blog because if you thought I was a weenie when I was ill, you've not yet worshiped at the feet of the master), and I settled into the indented couch space that sighs happily upon my return, we ate frozen pizza and caught up on the last two episodes of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (I have no idea why still, either). About 20 minutes into the action (and I use that term loosely, because this show? YAWN!) Tool Man paused the action to remark about how confusing it must be to be John Connor (we often talk of fictional characters as though they are real), what with all this need to keep straight what's going on with Future John versus Present-Day John, and, once I told him to shush because Brian Austin Greene was actually in the particular episode, I then went to kiss him (Tool Man, not Brian Austin Green, but fingers crossed for one day...)(and I didn't kiss him because gah! THE SNOT!) because FINALLY Tool Man understands what it's like to be me while we're watching this or any other science fiction program where time travel is involved, wherein "me" means "confused."

Except for when I'm watching LOST, though, because I've been watching that show since Day One and Tool Man started watching it for the first time during the middle of last season, and he claims to "get it" and know just what's going on when the lights flash and someone's nose starts to bleed, whereas I pretty much know I do not "get it," but I absolutely refuse to admit that to him because I'm irritated. At Tool Man, not LOST. I can never be irritated at anything that gives me this (aye, ya be a fine one, Desmond).

Back to the couch....

After I asked Tool Man to stop with his mumbo jumbo scary future talk, he passed me a box of delicious jaw breakers to share (feel free to inject something about how perhaps our highly processed diet of late is contributing to the illness going around the place)(then kindly leave m blog, Mom). I popped about five of the tiny orbs in my mouth at once, and Tool Man immediately warned me to be careful. "I know they're not as big as they used to be, but you have to know what you're doing," he said. I rolled my eyes and, though it was difficult based on the two very huge openings (that's what she said!) he gave me to take this conversation into, and opted to keep quiet.

That is until he added, "GobStobbers can be dangerous."

"Honey," I smiled, "I've stobbed a few gobs in my day. I know what I'm doing."

I also didn't tell them they're actually called GobStoppers, because I've learned from experience that when you're dealing with a man who says he's eating a sammich at the libarry, it's just best to pick your battles.

Ah, contented sigh.... What a night!

"Um, but where's the part where you have dubbed today 'Thuck you, Thursday!'"?" you're asking.

Thanks for reminding me.

Thursday was supposed to be a fantastic day, and yet it was a few GobStoppers short of being excellent. Here's why:

• Remember last Thursday when my Dad had surgery? Well, we learned this Thursday morning that Tool Man's Dad was in the hospital and had experienced what was later determined to have been a series of small strokes. He's home now after a day spent getting additional tests indicated nothing further...except for another damn lesson in Things About The World That Are Crappy.
• I totally George Jetsoned my way to work today, as I do each and every Thursday - completely on autopilot, but minus the assistance of robots, because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm still watching Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and I have reason to believe we shouldn't really trust those made of metal - and when I get there to discover they don't want me there. Oh, no they don't. They want me there Friday! I DO NOT WANT TO BE THERE FRIDAY for I am spoiled. But guess who stayed and worked their four-hour shift today anyway? And guess who made (sit down for this!) $40 today because she's so dedicated and was already wearing her sensible work slacks anyway? And guess who has to go to work on Friday?
• And while you're at it, guess who got called "he" and "him" for an hour by a really grabby toddler while SHE was scanning and shelving books? Here's a clue! If she could have, she'd have responded by saying, "Listen, little bub, I got $40 of new bra on that proves I'm not playing the Crying Game, kapeesh?" (that $40 of new bra was why she went ahead and worked her unscheduled shift because sometimes you have to sacrifice).

There's probably more about Thuck you, Thursday! that irritated me, but I just climbed into bed with a totally hot chick (like I'd share Tool Man's germs...he's snoring downstairs on the couch) and I need to cap off this day.

Besides, it's Friday now.