Thank you for joining me as I end two full months of daily blogging. My immune system thinks a little mucus in my eyes is going to keep me from blogging today. Ha! I'm an old theatre girl. The show must go on. Plus, at least 36 people are waiting to see what I have to say next. That's right, I check my stats baby. Even though Dubstep Cat has over 17 million views, I know my fans are of a more discriminating taste.
It's funny what you will and won't use sickness to get out of. One sniffle and you are trying to get out of the third grade, the SAT's, or a bad date. But if you have Superbowl tickets or front row for the Stones you will crawl with only a torso ala Monty Python. "It's only a flesh wound."
I do follow the rule of staying home when I think I am contagious. Because I don't appreciate whatever asshole who didn't wash his hands and touched a doorknob or whichever sticky kid hugged me and got me sick. (Kids love me. I still haven't figures that out yet. When my friends ask me about my biological clock I tell them I have a sundial.) Whoever they were they should have stayed home.
I'm staying home tomorrow. I hate to do it too. I had a wonderful Sex in the City day planned. A birthday brunch and then to the flower show for a LGBT event. I feel enormous pangs of Catholic Guilt too. Because the birthday party is for a great friend who helped throw me a great b-day party of my own this year. Seehttp://www.michelletomko.com/blog/my-27th-annual-sweet-16 for more information. But the last thing the country club needs is me touching every handle on the buffet and requiring them to use a hazmat team to clean the sneeze guard. And of course the last thing the gays of Philadelphia need is another person trying to take them out.
So happy birthday Chrissy. I will be at the next one. In the mean time, I will do a Benadryl shot in your honor. Night night.