The Death of Me

Here is the detailed account of the death of Katherine Grace Hurl Powell Hurl I (Von Lichtenstein)

aka

Katie Mylittlepony Hurl

aka

Flo

aka

Kristin's roommate

aka

That annoying girl who updates her useless blog every day and then clogs my newsfeed with it

(If you call me that last one, you're RUDE!)

Also, this isn't REALLY about my death, because how could I be writing about my death if I was dead? This is about feelings that are in very close proximity to feelings of death. (Or feelings that precede death as I would imagine them.)

I made it through my work day yesterday...barely. Unrelenting craziness had set in around 10 am yesterday, much to the chagrin of my co-worker and my roommate. It was pure awesome. Cold meds and Gatorade are a deadly combo in my world. (There's that "dead" word again. So sorry!) It's like the combo of Vicodin and Vodka to normal people... except it won't actually kill me.

Basically, I was bouncing off the walls. It's bad when I'm sick. It causes me to be crazy at a ratio of Normal Katie x 1,000,000,000. (Which you may already know that "Normal Katie" is something few people can tolerate on a GOOD day.)

I got home, ate the wonderful dinner that roomie had prepared (lasagna, salad, bread....infinite yumminess) and retired to my basement lair. It was approximately 7:20 in the pm when my head started pounding like one of those wind-up monkey toys and my eyes were squeezing out hot eye juice at an alarming rate.

It was time for bed... already.

I got myself dressed in my super-sexy sick attire of my Bama hoodie, Longhorns shorts, and the kicker.... grey socks. Yes. I was so sick that I went to bed in SOCKS!!! (I hate socks! One of my friends told me that one of her friends referred to socks as "tiny foot prisons" and I couldn't agree more!!!) So off I went to bed. At a snails pace. Even Cordy looked at me as if to say "Um, A) you look like hell C) Why you moving so slow B) you do realize it's only 7:20 in the pm?"

I didn't care. Spontaneous combustion of my cranial region was imminent. I needed my bed.

I got into bed, curled up in the fetal position and I was OUT! But I had forgotten to put my phone on silent...

This is an account of text messages I received during my death (Responses are highly exaggerated and purely fictional) :

9:42 "You think I'd look better in pewter or polished brown?"

Yes.

9:43 "Really Bama?"

Yes, really, and why are you calling me Bama? How do you know what I'm wearing? Is there a spy in my house?

9:47 "Oh haha. Nevermind. Why do i always get them and arkansas confused?"

Never speak to me again.

1:33 (in the am) "I'm not sleeping at your place tonight. Wanna get lunch?" (Ok, you dirty minded people, it was from my BROTHER!)

I am fairly certain I shall expire before it is necessary to eat a noon meal.

I hardly ever get text messages from these people! And now, as I lay dying, EVERYONE wanted to talk. Ironic? Methinks so.

I woke up this morning very rested (I should hope so after 12 hours of sleep!) and very attractive. I'm glad that there were no guys around because I would've had to beat them off with a stick.

"No! I will NOT make sweet sweet love to you! Stop asking! You're embarrassing yourself!"

I walked into the bathroom to survey the damage. I looked in the mirror and shrugged my shoulders. My eyes wandered to the upper right hand corner of my mirror where I have the lyrics "What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful" taped. (Sometimes a girl needs some positive reaffirmation, OK? Don't judge me!)

The Goo Goo Dolls. They lie.

I almost fell asleep in the shower and then when I went to brush my teeth, I made a startling discovery. My tongue was blue. I had three options

A) I was most certainly dying of an unknown West Amazonian Flu and I could expect reporters from the "Today" show as soon as my doctor confirmed it.

B) I had been unknowingly sucking on toilet cleaning tablets in my weakened mental state.

C) I drank a crap ton of blue Gatorade.

Fortunately, it was C, but I hope Prince Charming doesn't need a phone today because I'm foaming blue at the mouth.

"I'm not QUITE dead!" (But I look like it...)