bring us your tired, your huddled masses, your entire TB ward....

while i was in belgium MyCo hired 3 people: Mr. Crutches, Madame Screechyvoice and my current favorite -- Señor Tuberculosis. the first time I heard his wet, hacky cough i stared at loucypher in disbelief.
- i told you it was bad - he whispered.
- is he dying? more importantly, is that contagious??
he shrugged. i popped the rest of a plum in my mouth and sucked the pit, resuming my work.

approx 10 seconds later Señor TB commenced a hawky skirmish with another lunger wedged somewhere around his scrotum judging by his bassy, bubbly efforts. an exhausting coughing fit culminated in a prolonged haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwkkkkkttttttt followed by a beat of silence... and then a burp. loucypher's shoulders shook; my eyes watered as i fought to swallow my laughter. we are so going to hell.

coff coff coff - me this time - ack ack, hurkkk.
- STOP IT - loucypher hissed - he'll hear you.
- can't.help.it. swallowed my. plum.pit.
- oh THAT's gonna feel good coming out.

going to hell with a ripped-up ringhole. well at least i'm not britney spears.

taking a trainwreck ride back to the 80s this weekend and going to Crue-fest. this ain't a love song. happy friday.