(no subject)

My digestive system is a lost cause, but I may yet be able to salvage my arm.

When the fuck did I come in contact with poison ivy, this is bullshit. I'm not making this up. I have seeping inflamed poison ivy rash on my arm despite having been sick in bed for a preponderance of this ridiculous goddamn week.

(Mom says Wan probably rolled in it. She wants me to not pet dogs anymore or something. Shut up Mom just shut up.)

(no subject)

Dad is outside waving a bag of yard waste and making up sign language about his yard waste in the direction of my window, while I sit here looking up potential bullshit internet hippie solutions to my stomach and arm problems.

(no subject)

Dad: So this guy who's getting arraigned tomorrow, he's completely deaf.

Mom: Do you have an interpreter?

Dad: No, but I learned sign language. I do this and it means "plea," this and it means "guilty," and there's this gesture like this where I wave my arms and it means "waive your constitutional rights." It's called a swim.

Mom: They have to give you guys an interpreter.

Dad: No! I know sign language!

Thank you everyone who has sent me nice messages while I have been whining.

And sorry I have not gotten back to the people who have sent me non-disease-related stuff, I will do that as soon as I am less diseased.