pseydtonne | I've had a rotten cold all weekend.

I started feeling a fever on Thursday night. When I woke up Friday, I had a sore throat but no fever. By 3 pm, my sinuses had started filling very rapidly. Around 6 pm, the fever started again. I bought NyQuil, DayQuil and tissues on the way home.

NyQuil does not knock me out. I cannot understand how both John Pinette and Dennis Leary, two comedians with a difference in weight equivalent to another comedian, could have the same effect on a shot of NyQuil that only drains my sinuses a little. It's mostly booze, right? A few shots of booze and I'm usually planning a nap. Instead, this shot with a gram or two of other stuff merely ameliorated the hallucinations I had once I finally got to sleep.

I don't think my hallucinations are like other people's. I don't see things or hear things; instead, my mind get caught in a theory and I can only ride it out. When I had the flu at age eleven (on Christmas day, no less), I wound up stumbling into the hall and telling my mom, "I know you're not going to believe me, but there are a hundred people on my bed arguing about the history of color television."

I can't normally recall the entire hallucination afterward. They're so illogical that my waking-state mind won't even address that data. This time it seemed to be: each position I took while sleeping (on my right side, on my left side, head under a pillow, one leg over the sheet and one under, etc.) was a method of finishing a long-distance road race. I went to the bathroom at one point during all of this and, though I could tell exactly where I was and could tell myself "they're just hallucinations; they'll be done in the morning", I thought I was taking a pit stop. Before you ask, no I do not like car racing.

I woke up from the hallucinations around 7 am and headed to the couch for another couple hours of sleep. Then I started watching TV until Car Talk came on. I took DayQuil at some point, which left me feeling much more human. By noon, I was starting to sleep again. I'd wake up a couple times each hour until 3. Each time I'd awaken, I caught snippets of what was on NPR at the time. Highlights:

* Mo Rocca was on Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me. He almost won but he blew a simple question in the final round.

* The BBC has been investigating the battles in Jenin. The BBC doesn't seem to like the Israeli government much. I'm amazed their web site doesn't have pictures of Sharon smiling in front of dead puppies.

* Only a Game is running out of ideas. They had an eight-minute segment about LAN gamers at the close of this week's show. This show is NPR's attempt to have a sports program. In many areas, the show gets aired Saturdays at 6 or 7 am because it has the ratings appeal of turnips.

How can a sports show fail in America? By taking up time on Nerds and Prisses Radio. The show comes out of Boston, one of many reasons I refuse to give money to the local NPR station. Next time I have money, I should give to the Oswego station again -- they earn their keep and they need the money more.

I suppose OaG also fails because it's trying to make sports appealing to non-sports people. Boston is odd in that the epic dramas of our sports teams make even the geeks follow them. So the geeks turn this into OaG. Does it work? From what I can see, it only works here.

Oh, so back to the non-story: I listened to This American Life and then went back to sleep. I had a nightmare that I'd parked my car in front of my parents' house for a minute, then someone stole it. The street was packed with parked cars, something that only happens on Sundays in my parents' neighborhood. I remember screaming at my dad that his shithead clients must've stolen it because they have motive and that he'd better get my car back... oh, and get out of the lawyerin' business. Issues, eh?

I watched a lot of TV yesterday -- more than I had in almost a year. I wound up watching the Milli Vanilli episode of VH1's Behind the Scenes. Later, they had William Shatner hosting a special about one-hit wonders. I felt dirty by the end of that.

I'd seen the ads for cheesybread one too many times, so I broke down and ordered Domino's. Cheesybread sucks, for the record. One commercial for this stuff ends with a little girl having an open box of cheesybread on the lawn. "You're free, cheesybread! Free! Go!" she calls to the food-like product, making levitation motions with her hands. I think this is a hint that the cheesybread, like information, yearns to be free. Don't imprison it in your stomach. I ate three slices in a matter of minutes, having had nothing else to eat the whole day.

I feel a little guilty about paying Domino's any money.

So I went to bed around 1 and woke up at 11. I didn't even drink NyQuil, but I slept really well. I feel good enough that I wrote all of this. Next stop: shower and shave. I can feel the grease in my hair trying to start an independent nation.

I'm still mucus-laden, though nowhere near as much. I'm coughing, but it's all productive. My left ear is fucked up, but I don't think it's been equal to my right ear since 1994. I'm not in pain, although I am a bit clammy.

I lived, and lots of people called me. That made it survivable.

-punk cold remedies, ps/d