Detour

I'm allergic to my friggin bed. I'm not even kidding. After two weeks of sniffling, coughing, booger blowing and feeling great otherwise I finally realized today that I have freaking allergy. To my bed. I go to work: feel fine. Go to school: fine. Come home: fine. Step foot in the bedroom: coughcoughsneeze. Lay in bed: eyes water and I begin to cough up my lungs. Damn.

Other than my inability to break down alcohol, which I usually just simplify as an "allergy" when explaining to people why I'm so wasted all the time (because bringing up enzyme deficiencies seems to be a real buzz kill for most) and my spontaneous swelling of mouth, feet and hands when I get stressed out or touch a certain type of metal found only on weird smelling department store hangers I have gotten by pretty easily without a traditional allergy. I'm pretty convinced that I psychosomatically cause my stress symptoms out of pure boredom but was actually diagnosed as being allergic to stress in 8th grade. Ha, I'm pretty sure I was just allergic to tween boys or locker rooms or any other traumatizing adolescent accoutrement but whatever. This is a full fledged stereotypical allergy with irritating symptoms and all. So now I'm out to sleep on the couch tonight and if this little controlled experiment doesn't work I'm cutting my head off tomorrow. 

In lieu of anything significant to say I direct your attention here. Text Messages from Last Night is the funniest collection of absurdity I've seen in a while but you can search your very own area code to see what all the wasted people are thinking in your city. Score. 

Here are some of my favorites: