The only way I would ever be convinced by a period commercial like that is if I knew it was referring to the fact that it feels like the Korean war in my uterus and that serious ammunition (chocolate, popsicles, cute pictures of kittens/babies) was in stock and ready to rumble during what is now collectively referred to in pop culture as SHARK WEEK.
But of course, that is not what the wonderful camo pad is referring to...it's saying.."I've got your back, no one will know". UHM OFCOURSE PEOPLE WILL KNOW. IM WAILING ABOUT THE CURSE OF THE WOMB AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, MY ARMS ARE SMEARED WITH CHOCOLATE. I RIP OUT THE HEART OF MERE BYSTANDERS WHILE MY RAGE IS UNLEASHED IN THE MOST HORRIFIC OF VERBAL ABUSES.
This time around is just super worse by the fact that I swear I have some variation of the streptococcus strain or bronchitis. Basically, yesterday morning, I started coughing uncontrollably every five minutes. Then, mid-afternoon, shark week began. With every diaphragmatic contraction, a surge of godforbidden pain and you-know-what-else would rush down, chilling my spine with the thought that something horrendous like a leak or ill preparation will embarrass me in front of .... my dog ...and bedsheets (obviously the only audience I can maintain in such a disposition).
Today, I literally did not leave my bed for 16 hours, except for the most necessary ablutions and to make a bowl of ramen. I just coughed every 5 minutes, maintaining a rhythm until I noticed that the excess air being gulped while gasping for breath in between coughs was now emerging as a belch, causing my phlegm to FOAM.
I apologize if this is just too much information to deal with, but the compounding of all earthly hate has caused me to cross all polite boundaries and social conventions with the public.
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