Happy New *hack hack cough spit hack* Year!

2011 decided to be a peach and get me strep for its birthday. I’ve spent the majority of the year thus far coughing up a lung (or creepy chunks of phlegm) and sniffling like a big, giant baby.

Even with the body crippling plague (overdramatic? noooo…), my body still finds ways to multitask. It’s all, “Hey Steph! You know how we can make this time spent coughing even more efficient? If we threw in these twenty sneezes!” I swear the resulting action looks like I’m having a coughing seizure… I’m bent over, hacking, drooling out of my mouth, arms akimbo, with these multiple sneezes rioting through my torso, my legs lifting like I’m dancing to dubstep, my contorted face making a cough/puppy sneeze sound that might be adorable if I didn’t have a bubble of snot chilling ’round my nostril.

But other than being straight up sexy, the year’s been greeeeeat. In fact, I started it looking like this:

I swear I don’t believe in foreshadowing. That’s for godless heathens. Or the undead, you pick.


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