Chick-noodz (not a recipe).

"I'm not being whatever or whatever, I'm just saying." Sorry if you're confused. I had to share. I heard this today on my way to my advisor's office. It left my mind 100% boggled. I'd like to break it down at this time if I may. Ok, so we've got a foundation for a pretty legit situation. This sentence contains:

• Character conflict
• Climax
• Resolution

Contrary to what others obvi think, the subject, I, is not being whatever, nor is she being whatever. That is our character conflict.

There is major climax when she says "I'm just..." because you don't know what she's "just" doing. You want to know, and you can't figure it out. Until she puts the audience out of its misery and says...

"...saying."

Lawd hammercy. I thought I'd pass out waiting to hear what she was "just" doing. She was only saying. You guys. Breathe. Thats over.

On a positive, less sarcastic/less a-hole/less moody note, my belly is really happy right now. Before I get into why, let me apologize for the bad photo quality your eyes will soon meet. You see, my AshKutchCam (that's what I've named my new digital camera) is in my bedroom. And I am typing this from my kitchen three rooms away. Its a distance I'm not prepared to journey. So I resort to my iPhone 3G, folks. Deal w/. I've been sickly & pathetic-looking going on 4 days now. Today has been better, but I've still got fever & sniffles. And apparently I'm still whining about it. Surprise. My very good & dear friend, who just so happens to share my name (my name is Katie), delivered this sick kit to me:

We've got Gatorade, a bendy straw, Kleenex with lotion (perf for my red nose that hates me dead for using toilet paper so frequently), HOMEMADE (you heard me) chicken noodle soup, crackers, Valentine's day cookies (still warm), and two mags. YBYA I teared up when I took this pic. Partly because I'm an Emotional Emily today (and every day), but mostly because this is THE perfect sick kit, and it makes me happy to have friends that will bring me these things when I feel like cr*p. My sentimental sweep of emotion disappeared when I began eating the soup.

First of all, Katie is a nutrition major, so she used whole wheat noodles. Second of all, Katie is a nutrition major, so she explained to me that I was experiencing fluid depletion or something, and that it was important to something something. And I believed her. Not just because she's my friend, but also because she's my GIL. GIL stands for girlfriend-in-law. We weren't really sure how to label our relationship at first, you know? She's my boyfriend's sister, I'm her brother's girlfriend. Life can get tangled, so we made a name for it. GIL. And all that means is I have all the more reason to trust her and take her advice so that my fluids don't something something and my body stays something.

Wednesday nights can be tricky when you're sick and/or drugged. But if you're lucky, your friend or GIL or sister or brother or mother or whatever will bring you presents that make you feel better. And then you'll test your sense of smell by taking a huge whiff of some old mittens you found under your bed, and you'll regret it. And then you'll blog about it because you're Nyquil intoxicated. And then you'll wrap it up, because you're slowly realizing that no one is reading at this point. Goodnight!