The Irish Owe Me an Apology, or There Must Be Some Way to Blame Someone Else for This Cold

I’ll get around to my myriad complaints in just a moment, but let’s start with the iPod songs o’ wisdom first, shall we?

And just quickly, on the subject of my predicting the future through the iPod shuffle, I know it’s shite! I know it’s not accurate!

How could it possibly be an accurate shuffle if I’ve removed “You’ll Probably Die Tomorrow” and the ever-popular “There’s a Painful Boil in Your Future”?

I’m glad that’s settled.

So! What’s the weekend look like? Here are the songs that would have played on the walk to the bus stop this morning.

The Seeker by The Who
Someone Else’s Train by The Cure
Destroyer by The Kinks
ABC by The Jackson 5
Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Take Mine Down by Chooglin’
Everybody’s Got Something to Hide (Except Me and My Monkey) by The Beatles

The Chooglin’ song is in the last year, but the rest? These songs are 20, 30 years old – and still some of my favorites.

Well, it’s Day Three of being sick as the proverbial dog; and as a card-carrying Minnesotan, I am not allowed (per agreement at birth, I believe it was) to call in sick two days in a row.

And after having taken a day off specifically to drink, to amuse and be amused?

It’s just not done.

But I'm well and truly sick, man. I cannot be social. I cannot breathe through my nose, taste my lunch, begin to imagine what is causing the intense pain from my eyes up, or speak without bringing to mind various warty, croaking amphibians.

So I’ll just be over here, on the couch with my tissues, my inhaler, a jar of Mentholatum and my cell phone, miserably self-pitying, and doing my best to stifle the coughing jags that threaten to force my brains out my temples.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been as sick as I am right now.

So do we still have time for a quick story? Just a little one. And then I really gotta lay down.

At one time, I was a court reporter, one of those intense-looking women pounding out, phonetically, everything said in the courtroom.

That’s the key: phonetically.

And I was good. But there came a day when I came across a line in a transcript I was working on where the deponent said she had been coming back from an appointment, that she had just gotten – and here I wrote “P S D S”.

P.S.D.S.

Oh, crap.

PSDS? PSDS. I rolled that son of a bitch around in my mouth for a good hour. I called my friends. "You ever had P.S.D.S.? You know anyone who does?"

I had to have this word, and eventually I did what is a last resort for court reporters.

I called the deponent.

I asked her about the “PSDS”, if I had that right.

“Oh, yes,” she said.

“So, um,” I said, fishing, “Does that hurt, PSDS?”

“Oh, no, not really,” she said. “Just a quick pop. The earrings just get shot right into your ears and you heal in no time.”

HA! PSDS? Pierced ears?!

Did I mention the woman had been raised near Boston?

OK – just one more thing; and then, really, I gotta go. I can’t just hang around here all day…

I received the "Uber" award (see the award on the right over there?) from Aria and am to pass it along to five (or more) bloggers.

Here’s my five, and do you know why? Because they are consistently humorous, consistently interesting, and they leave some of the funniest comments I know. (And yes, I’m aware that this is more than five. Hey – I can write; I never said I could count.)

Eskimo Bob
A Mouthy Irish Woman
Out of Me Head
Prefers Her Fantasy Life
Kavi’s Musings
Not The Rockefellers
What Were You Thinking?

The rules of this award are:
* Copy the badge and put the logo on your blog sidebar or post.
* Nominate at least 5 blogs (can be more) that for you are Uber Amazing!
* Let them know that they have received this Uber Amazing award by commenting on their blog.
* Share the love and link to this post and to the person you received your award from.
Come back and comment here so that your link could be added to the masterlist of awardees.

Have a good weekend!