There's a Special Place for me Down Below

I can't breathe through my nose. Mouth agape, this is a hot look. It ranks right up there with unibrow.

I'd be at home watching Young & The Restless with Marley nestled in my lap if there such a thing as "sick" days at my company, but no, I prefer to blow my nose, cough and sneeze knowing my co-workers are within close proximity. Misery loves company.

My mom isn't evil -- I am. Yesterday she woke up early to make and deliver homemade chicken noodle soup and a super-size vanilla shake from McDonald's. The day before, she'd specially made a batch of chocolate chip not-so-chewy bars which I accepted out of guilt. They were rock-hard like David Beckham's abs. So when she said, "I could use some chocolate chip chewy bars," I was left no choice but to dig the bag out of the garbage under the sink. Then I served them to her accompanied with a glass of milk. She would've chosen coffee ten times over but there's not a drop to be found at my place -- I don't even own a coffee maker. Time to go warm up my chicken noodle soup. Yes, I'm aware I'm going to hell.