Impatient Patient

Yes, it's been longer since my last post than Martha Stewart's last bowel movement.  Yes, the longer I go without posting the more likely you will lose interest in my psychotic life and never return.  Yes, I miss writing about my hot college roommate and reviving all of the dormant fantasies that this story brings up.

But I'm sick.

No, really.  Actually sick.  Not the usual mental disorder masquerading as a physical one.  I had a 104 degree temperature for two days, which has now been replaced by a stomach ailment that I wouldn't wish on Ken Mehlman.  I haven't seen or spoken to another human being since Thursday, including my roommate, who has revealed his hypochondriac colors by locking himself in his room ever since he heard me hacking up a lung the other night.  He's Swedish, and they're notorious germophobes.  Of course, he's the only Swedish person I ever met, but I need to base my offensive stereotyping on something.

I suppose the fact that I'm writing anything indicates that I'm recovering somewhat.  Either that, or I'm delusional from the fever.  I'm not sure how a doctor would tell the difference between my normal state and my delusional one.  Again, six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Meanwhile, I will do the best I can to demand that my body recover quickly, and you all do the best you can to not forget that your old friend Jonah will god willing be back soon with more thrilling tales of alcoholic Jews from Nyack.

Ok I'm going back to watching Enchanted again.  I've now watched it three times.  Which has absolutely nothing to do with the scene where Patrick Dempsey is wearing a bathrobe.