death by cactus & pig’s blood pudding

I just took 4 tsps of cough syrup in hopes of a little relief from this cold I can't seem to shake, and I feel neither “relieved, “sedated,” nor “mildly stimulated” as promised by the advertising print on the box. Liars; the whole lot of 'em.

I thought it would've hit me sooner… harder.
I just assumed I have low tolerance as a result of never taking medication and never getting sick. Perhaps it’s just the opposite that’s preventing the little miracle sedatives from working in my favor – perhaps I’m just sufficiently immune. Then where did this cold come from?... I can't tell you where exactly, but it's a part of Batista's regime, and it ain't welcome nowhere but my line of fire, ya hear?

After all, apart from the deep sexy voice that sounds like whiskey tastes (that of which I wish I had all year round), there is nothing remotely sex-tacular about a cold… this cold.

As the warm spring breeze invades the evenings yet again, and those patios fill up on Bloor W with all those delicious hipsters… I can’t help but forget about the venomous stress that invades my system and replace it with the simple joy of knowing that graduation is so so close, as is a rooftop patio rendezvous with the new and pretty faces that always come – as a welcome swagbag for one hell of a dynamite season. Oh those "delicious hipsters." Such an oxymoron. They're mouthwatering like nonna's Sicilian sanguinaccio... but deceptive. There's pig's blood on the hand's of everyone. Oh gee. The stimulants are setting in. It is affecting the effectiveness of conveying my thought processes with clarity and honesty, as desired. Forgive me as I stare this cold in the face and snarl with intimidation.

I leave you with a little anecdote I overheard on the subway earlier this evening between a couple. One man tells the story to a woman beside him. When he finishes, she's intrigued and gives him what most would consider "sex eyes." The man was wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

"In 1982, a cactus in Phoenix, Arizona killed a man. David Grundman fired two shotgun blasts at a giant saguaro cactus that ended up falling on top of him." Poor bastard.

x's & o's bros,
LO.

If I were any homemade cold remedy I would be...
Nonna’s Moonshine: For every 1 shot honey - 2 shots Bourbon. Viscous bitch.