Welcome to another installment of Good mourning, it’s Monday! This weekly blog looks to cover various topics in the news, along with personal stories or encounters from the past week at home and work to help you through your first day back at work (unless you don’t work). Hopefully my seven followers like this and share this to make it eight. Enjoy…
Contrary to popular belief, a sinus infection is not fun
This past week and a half has been quite a doozy for yours truly. It started back on Friday, May 26 in the morning when I was vomiting ever so gracefully in the bathroom of a classy Boston hotel room. Depending on how bad you puke, it can either be a quick experience that helps you feel better or a loud and violent Exorcist-like experience. I was the latter of the two, plus utilizing my nostrils.
When heading home, I found myself constantly blowing my nose in a futile attempt to clear my nasal passages. See folks, if you don’t properly puke simply back out of your mouth and you use your nose like an idiot, you end up with crap up in your sinuses that should be in your lower intestine a few hours later. I didn’t know it until a few days later, but it was a big ol’ sinus infection.
If you haven’t had one, don’t. It’s a miserable experience. Not in the sense you you’re bed ridden with the flu, but instead your face feel like an over-inflated tire and you constantly need to blow your nose with close to nothing coming out. There’s a constant need to clear my throat, but it’s useless. And let’s not forget about my senses being completely screwed up. Nothing tastes right and when I blow my nose or cough, I can taste and smell the scent of an old lady in need of a sponge bath. It’s a putrid experience.
Mother suggested I try one of those sinus rinse bottle things. It works in a similar fashion like a neti pot to clean your sinuses by putting water up one nostril and draining out the other. Here’s the official video, which somehow has 1.5 million views.
You know what I got out of it? More sinus pain, with my ears and teeth in tremendous pain.
After a terrible night sleep Wednesday night thanks to the nostril geyser, I finally got to the doctor’s to get some antibiotic. It’s not an instant relief, but it has been working over time. I still got a few days left, so let’s hope I’m all set before attending a wedding this upcoming weekend.
Oh, and be sure to eat some yogurt when taking an antibiotic. If you don’t, you have this to look forward to…
Random feud of the week
This has been something I’ve been holding onto for a while, but I guess the first Monday in June is the day to reveal my despise for a certain person: the Lindt Chocolatier.
You may be saying, “But Zach, why him? What has he ever done to you to deserve this?” Well, nothing, but I hate his stupid face and the advertisements.
Chocolate commercials are the absolute worst. It’s slow motion, close up shots of melted chocolate forming into a perfectly square piece of overpriced chocolate that somehow forms into the brand’s logo directly in the center. Then we see a middle-aged white woman take a single bite and close her eyes as the taste takes her to paradise. There’s a sparkle in the air and she is experiencing what the voice over actor calls “bliss.” Let’s take a trip into the Lindt Lindor experience…
It’s just perfect to have the Swiss Lindt Chocolatier’s dumb face plastered as the featured image of the video above.
As bad as it is watching the woman in bed eating chocolate in her own little paradise, Mr. Choc-o-lat here crafting the best single ball of chocolate kills me. Just do an image search of him and you’ll see his smug face endlessly staring at chocolate.
It’s as if Lindt’s marketing department rented Gillette’s shaving guy to dress up as Björn McChöcolateson to melt a bowl of chocolate using heat vision and his perfect jaw line. Dude, you’re making candy, not crafting a cure to sinus infections. Plus, putting all of your effort into a single ball of milk and sugar is terrible efficiency that would get you fired two hours into your shift. And why the hell do you need to move your head forward to hide your neck, as if focusing four inches closer is going to help craft the perfect square? I hope he gets arthritis or lives his later years with terrible posture.
So that’s that. I hate you Lindt Chocolatier. You may not exist because a factory does the job for you, but your on-air existence will forever infuriate me. I hope you can’t sleep at night knowing you contribute to the obesity epidemic here in America. Just remember that it’s not a women day-dreaming in her chocolate oasis enjoying your Lindt bars, but instead it’s chubby guys like me who stroll into a convenience store to pick up a Red Bull, a half-dozen scratch tickets, and one of your candy bars to amuse myself on the couch.
P.S. – Label your damn Lindors. I’m never going to remember which color is for what flavor.
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