I know you're crazy, what am I?

Raise your hand if you've heard this before: I'm coming down with a cold. I somehow avoided the last one I thought was coming for me, but this go round they snuck up on me and kicked me in the shins. Everyone else knew I was sick before I did. Apparently the wearing of long sleeves tipped them off.

Anyway, grabbed a bag of Cold Eez and damn near gagged after the second one. Blergh. Not the tastiest things known to man, are they? Ah well. If I warm up enough, I'm gonna go drug myself with the sinus stuff, because apparently I have the same cold as before. Bother.

In other news, did everyone on the planet run out and buy their father what I was going to buy mine? Ignore how akward that sentence is, please. It shouldn't be anything new for you. I swear, my gift giving plan was perfect this year! PERFECT. And then the damn thing sold out everywhere but frickin' Amazon, who has it for twice as much as the rest of the known universe. Which, I imagine, is why they still have it. Come on, people. Dad's impossible to shop for. You can't take the perfect, even if he didn't ask for it, gift away from me! *sulk*

[gift= seasons two and three of have gun, will travel. Season one was the only DVD my father has ever asked for and then actually opened and then, gasp, watched.]

Instead, I bought Cassandra's gift and now I return to praying for a sign from above, or something. Okay, and waiting for my AFI DVD to show up. Released Tuesday, shipped yesterday. Soo... Monday or Tuesday arrival?

Update on the boy. Despite being told otherwise, he had a court date yesterday morning, and is now in jail all nice and official-like [I suppose] for the child support thing. Or he can cough up some sum of cash and buy his way out. The parental units declined such an offer and [this is where the twist appears. Ready?] the one person who might be able to scrounge up the cash and want to spring him? Has been temporarily commited to the psych ward.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

this week blows.

What's worse than losing your debit card when you were pretty sure you'd put it someplace safe?
Is it tearing your house apart? No.
Is it someone else having used it? Well, actually, probably, but not in this case.
No, it's getting off the phone with the bank, having cancelled it, and not two minutes later, you find it.

FUCK.