Lorraine Says: Sang-wee-che.

Dear Internets,

I'm sick.


It's probably a testament to how sick I feel that all I can think about as I sit here and try to make some funny is how sick I am. I would tell you all about it, about the invisible elephant that feels like it's sitting on my face and the nausea that's having a party in my tummy, but I've been sick before.

The Christmas I spent with wine and Nyquil:

"I can't tell you why specifically, but being asked, "are you mad?" when I'm absolutely not mad makes me SO MAD. Dammit, just looking at that question is making me mad at myself for typing it. It's really closely to related to "Hey, what's wrong with you?" "Nothing." "Are you sure?" "Well, nothing WAS wrong with me but now I"m kind of annoyed at you, thankssomuch.""

The lady who can't tell a story at my job? She keeps asking me if I'm okay. I snapped at her at one point and said, "I TOLD YOU I'M SICK," and that made me feel even worse. Only for like a second, though, because she came back with, "You look sad." I told Burt Gordon and HaaaiiGurl  about snapping at her and they spent the rest of the day asking me if I was sad. That may or may not have led to an office rumor that my dog died when I was three but it still hurts sometimes.


The time waking up was hard to do:

Usually, here's how it goes: I realize I'm getting sick, I whine and complain and walk around slouched into a shape I imagine is oddly reminiscent of a question mark. Then I complain some more, turn down medicine because I've accepted the fact that it won't work on me and I should just be left to die. Then I complain.

I barely slept last night because I couldn't breath. THIS IS ME COMPLAINING.


And finally that one time I yelled at Halls:

This is why I should be owner of the world. My cough drops would say stuff like, "Oh wow! You do feel hot," on the outside because that's the stuff I like to hear. Add that to, "you aren't complaining nearly enough," and "just go to sleep," and it's a wonder why I'm not a multi-millionaire.

Still not a multi-millionaire. Lame.
 
Anyhow, the real point of today's post is to talk about sandwiches. Or, if you are my mom, a "sangwich." Or, or if you're speaking Spanglish it's a "sang-wee-che."

I've been tying to bring lunch to work every day because 1.) I'm spending way too much money on food and b.) eating out is encouraging fat to congregate in places I'd prefer no loitering.

Anyways, I've been eating a lot of sandwiches. Inspired by that, I figured I'd take a little reader survey. Getting to know you through your packaged meat, if you will. So, if you feel up to it, please answer the questions below in the comments:

1. Helman's or Miracle Whip? (Or none of the above?)

2. Ham or Turkey?

3. What color is your cheese?

4. Do you cut diagonally or down the middle?

5. White, wheat or something else?

Also, this is just a question I'm throwing out into the universe, but does ANYONE eat the butt bread that comes in a package of sliced bread? Anyone at all?

Answer my sangwich questions, people. That's all I got for today because I think I can hear my brain sniffling.

Love,
A Sickly Lorraine