We have the Bitchasaurus Rex!
It should have been a hint when I read the label that said:
So my previous post in which I stated "Don't fucking cough on me!" has now turned to "Fuck you for coughing on me!" and my poor husband is now battening down the hatches for the arrival of the Bitch of the Year. I'm already the Queen of blurting shit out that's beyond absurd and it gets twenty, yes...20 times worse when I'm on Prednisone. Prednisone is a steroid...in my case, intended to get rid of the massive swelling in the lining of my lungs caused by the C U Next Tuesday who hacked her spittle in my face a few weeks back. Thank you for the gift that keeps on giving, stinky cheese smelling woman wearing a moo-moo in the grocery line.
Apparently, the medicine's steroidy anti-inflammatory-y goodness reduces the swelling in my internal brain filter; and like a bottle of wine left in an arid room for too long...shit oozes past my cork and dribbles out of my mouth causing a plethora of ruckusi, which I deduce MUST be the plural of ruckus because it sounds soooooooo much cooler than ruckuses. My ruckusi have been causing mass hysteria since, ooooooooooh, this morning.
I have at least 10 days until this miraculous drug that makes my lungs, joints and opinions feels oh so warm, fuzzy, and born free...wears off. In the mean time prepare for the worst, or best, depending on what particular level and potency of shit you like to stir.
AAAAAAAAAND on that note, I'm off to visit the doctor of doom (or so my kiddo thinks) to have ear tubes checked out. Stupid ear tubes. I SHALL RETURN! (Whether you like it or not!)