Even Hell's not hot enough
20 October 2004, 17:06
I have a (frikking) cold sore. I detest cold sores. I’m prone to the little fuckers and am convinced Satan gave us cold sores to stop us eating chocolate, drinking alcohol and generally having a good time.
The one stress I had about my (cough, our) wedding was that I’d get a cold sore on the day. Pure unadulterated Horror, it was. I didn’t. In fact, I haven’t had a cold sore for almost a year.
But I packed all of Cold Sore’s nastly little triggers – sun and wind (c/- 3 hour bike marathon down the Yarra Trail), alkihol (c/- many beers at BBQ Sunday night) and a glut of coffee, nuts and tomatoes – into my simply fabulous weekend. So I’ve got no-one to blame but myself for this little beauty pulsating on my top lip. No self-pity permitted. That hurts. I am not a happy camper.
A friend of mine has this theory that people who get cold sores generally don’t get pimples and vice versa. This friend also said she’d much rather get a Cold Sore than have Pimples. Hello? A big zit on the middle of your forehead vs. a throbbing, irritable nodule of scabby pus that spreads as fast as you can say, “Where’s my Aero Bar”? No competition, Friends, n.o c.o.m.p.e.t.i.t.i.o.n.
Fuck up and die, Cold Sore, fuck up and die.
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