They put me on antibiotics. 4 a day, and they're the size of a god damn pickle. I guess that's an exageration, but they're big fucking pills. At least I can still drink. Well, they didn't say I COULDN'T drink. That brings my drug regime up to 1 singuliar, four antibiotics, 2 sprays of flonase up each nostril, albuterol inhaler as needed, Claritin most days, and maybe, if things go really badly, an epipen jammed into my peehole. You're not supposed to really jam those into your peehole but as long as I'm putting myself through the ringer I may as well go all out.

I went to Atlanta Tuesday. I caught the 5:30am bastard flight out of Milwaukee to Hotlanta. I woke up at 2:00am, and God Damn if it wasn't as early as fuck. I arrived at the airport around 4:45 only to find the travel agency didn't book my ticket. There was some bad noise with the short notice and apparently my credit card didn't get on file.