Some people are just plain sick.

Yesterday I saw something I never thought I’d actually see. Oh sure I’ve heard rumors, we’ve all heard rumors, but to actually SEE someone on a crowded train, during rush hour in NYC, doing something as stupid/stoned/sick as that…?! Well, for a moment I was actually at a loss for words.

But only for a moment.
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I’m back from Atlanta.

I’m tired, I’m hungry and I have a sore on my tongue the size of a nickel and it hurts like heck. Whenever I talk it feels like there’s an army of tiny Argonauts on my teeth stabbing my tongue with tiny, needle-sharp swords. Just swallowing my own spit is an effort of willpower worthy of an unrepentant torture victim during the Inquisition and don’t even get me started on eating.

Even soup makes me cry.

All I want now is a bathtub full of Anbesol and a soft bed so I can sleep. I won’t even think about humor until I’m able to eat without feeling so much pain that I actually want to rip my tongue out of my mouth and cauterize the open sore with a white-hot branding iron. I’m in pain folks, The Mighty Geek has found his Kryptonite and he has been defeated.

Woe is me.

Hide your daughters.

I’m headed down to Atlanta this weekend where I’ll be doing some work, meeting some family and hanging out with my bestest friend in the whole, wide world, Mr. Hentai. I’m also hoping that I’ll find the time to sleep while I’m down there so I can finally get rid of this annoying eye-tick, especially since none of the home-brewed remedies that I tried yesterday seem to have worked at all. But with all the work I’m going to be doing and all the people I’m hoping to see I really doubt that I’ll even see the inside of my hotel room, let alone get into the bed.

BTW, jabbing a straw in your cornea to stop it twitching HURTS. A lot.
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My left eyelid is twitching.

I’m not kidding. It’s shaking and shivering like an epilectic midget lying naked on a windy iceberg. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d probably say it had something to do with lack of sleep. For the last month or so I’ve been working so much that I haven’t had time to sit down for a meal, let alone sleep more than 54.7 seconds at a time and I guess it’s finally caught up with me.

Damn. There it goes again!

It’s not like it’s a noticeable twitch, either. Because a noticeable twitch might actually be fun to have, y’know? I mean, I could walk up to strangers and demand money and when they looked at me they’d see a crazy guy with a twitching eye and hand over all their spare change. Viola, instant cab fare! All of the other beggars in the world would come from miles around to learn how to make their eyes twitch like mine so they could garner more pity/fear and thus make more money.

I’d be worshipped as a beggar-king! Like Aladdin, or Ali-Baba!

And because I think it sounds cool and everyone would be too afraid to argue with me, I’d be known as The Crazy One Eyed Psycho-Geek from Madagascar. Secret agents would contact me to find out what’s happening with the world according to my international “Underground Intelligence” network. I’d wear an old British naval officer’s outfit, complete with medals, a ruffled shirt and a weird hat, and I’d walk with a pronounced limp and have lots of fake jewelry hanging off my dirty coat.

Most importantly, I’d have a pet ring-tailed lemur named “Spooky”.

Man, this fricking twitch is annoying. Maybe I should do something about it besides holding my left eye and screaming obscenities at myself. I tried banging my head on the sharp edge of the desk earlier today, but all that did was override the twitch annoyance feeling with a little pain. Wait! That’s it! What I really need is a fricking whole lot of pain to take my mind off this stupid twitch! I’ll just stab myself in the eye repeatedly with this nice drinking straw and see if that works. If not, I’ll just smash my face into this monitor and rub salt into my cuts and bruises.

Hey, if I’m not here tomorrow somebody call the Marines, OK?