i've got chills, they're multiplyin'

No seriously, I do. Yesterday a faint throb in my throat surfaced. Convinced it was just a case of parched throat, I drank plenty of fluids -- okay, beer -- to quench the small flames starting to lick at my tonsils. As the day progressed, my throat felt like I had eaten the bottle my Sam Adams Light was housed in.

I shuffled home and crumpled on my couch, in an achy, shivering heap. I reached for the afghan my mother crocheted me when I was nine and still trembled beneath its soft, cozy thickness. I dragged my sorry ass into bed only to be kept awake by my fluctuating body temperature and an overall dull pain marching around the perimeter of my body. One thought entered my mind: "Oh God, please don't let me puke."

I am the biggest baby when it comes to the vomiting. I whimper and feel all sorry for myself. Occasionally, I cry. Call me a baby but yo, having the entire contents of my stomach violently and quickly forced back out my mouth? I no likey. Fortunately, the puking never came. But I barely slept a wink last night and today I'm a clammy, feverish, nauseous mess.

I would like to say that this bout of the funk came courtesy of a wild Pride weekend. Alas, I had to miss the parade yesterday to attend a 40th birthday party for my brother-in-law. Saturday was a bust because my delicate, lazy ass couldn't abide the rain thereby preventing me from attending the Dyke March and its various after parties. Sadly, my Pride activities were rather limited this year. Although, there was a rather raucous game of Spin the Bottle played at a fabulous pre-Pride party I went to on Friday night. Wanna know how gay the party was? A Julia Sugarbaker (of Designing Women) monologue was performed. Flawlessly and with major 'tude. Need I say more?

But back to Spin the Bottle -- I was smooching people left and right. Seriously, I found myself in a rather lucky position favored by the bottle courtesy of a sloping wood floor. Good times. Good times. My lips were, how you say, chapped by night's end. Give it up for lip balm. And communicable diseases, apparently.

I hope all you gays had a fun, event-filled and funk-free Pride weekend. I wish I could say that same. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have some toast and ginger ale and watch some garbage TV.