trancejen's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm run down, and I saw it coming. I've been that kind of tired that you can feel in every cell, the tiredness that makes your hair hurt. I was getting some juice out of the fridge with the J-Man, and the next thing I know I was on the floor, juice bottle rolling across the tile, J-Man screaming "Mommy fell!" He recognizes the thump. It took about a half an hour before I felt normal enough to get up, and another half an hour before I was convinced I wasn't having a stroke. The call this a transient ischemic attack, I think. They should call it a Neurological Fisting. My head was and still is swimming, foggy, and it feels swollen. My tongue has suddenly grown too big for my mouth and is causing some very attractive Parkinsons-like slurring and drooling. The shakes have subsided, thank God, but Lord, am I one sexy bitch. I'm like the most eligible bachelorette of the Jerry's Kids. "Yeah, baby, you know you want this. Look at these shaky hands. I'm a trembling hunk of spastic love, darlin'. And yeah, my mouth is hanging open. It's because I can't wait to rock your oral world, baby. Yeeeeeah. It might take me twenty minutes to get to the bed, but once I'm there I will blow your mind." Yeah. I'm going to bed, I think. My chest hurts, and I feel like Andre Agassi is practicing his backhand in my head. Back when I'm better. Goodnight.
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