Generally speaking, I believe there are two things that can cure all ills. One or the other (or both in tandem) somehow manage to soothe and sustain me regardless of the problem at hand: Orgasms and Chocolate.
(Let the record state that Mrs Fever prefers the former over the latter, but welcomes the opportunity to indulge in both luxuries simultaneously.)
In case you’d like to try this remedy at home (or in a hotel room or at the drive-in or in the back seat of a car): Got a headache? Have an orgasm. Back hurts? Orgasm. Feeling grouchy? Stressed? Tired? An orgasm will lift your spirits, calm your nerves, and energize your body. If, by chance, you feel like crying, an orgasm will bring a smile to your face. I could go on (and on and on and on…I have amazing stamina), but I think you get the point. And if, per chance, you do not have a willing partner at (heh) hand, let your fingers do the walking.
Unless, of course, you fear that orgasmic activity may result in your arrest. Not that it’s *not* fun to play with hand cuffs, but some folks are not into that sort of thing. So if you’re on the subway or at the book store, or in a crowded restaurant, you might want to go with Plan B (which is a spectacular movie, by the way…but I digress): Chocolate.
Milky or dark, liquid or frozen, in whatever quantity you have on hand. And, erm… With or without (heh) nuts.
So, to review: If something is ailing you, all you need to do to improve your outlook on the situation is have an orgasm and/or consume some chocolate-y goodness.
Prior to this past week (which is when I got run over by the Mack truck of life), I lived (and moaned and came and shuddered and shivered) by this philosophy. With the possible exception of morning breath (that particular malady can only be eradicated via vigorous tooth-brushing), I truly believed the big O was the answer to whatever ailed me. And if it that didn’t work, a liberal dose of ‘vitamin’ C would suffice.
I still think that, I suppose. But once upon a time I thought this regimen could cure anything in anyone.
And maybe that’s true.
Unfortunately, I don’t think my medicines will cure malaise in other species.
And what other species, you are wondering, are you referring to, Feve?
My husband, for one. (Yes, I really do think he’s a different species. Different sex, different schmex. The Mister is from another planet.) My pets for another. I may be coo-koo for Cocoa Puffs, but I’m not cuckoo enough to give cocoa to my pup. And yes, I like to pet my puss, but there’s NO WAY I’m gonna go there.
You see, here’s the thing: My kitty (the one with four legs) has been given six months to live; my puppy (who is actually quite ancient) is losing cognitive function…which means she truly is a crazy bitch. My husband ~ based on his recent emotional state ~ is either taking this news *really* hard or is going through man-o-pause. Or possibly it’s a combination of both…?
The good news is that Dementia Dog and Cancer Cat are blissfully unaware that anything is wrong with either of them. My spouse, however, is freaking the fuck out. And frankly, the whole fam-damily is giving *me* a headache.
So in the event I happen to be posting sporadically for a while, please bear with me. It’s because I’m going to be very, very busy. Curing my headache. And heartache. And any and every other ill that may befall me.
Yes, I think in the near future I’m going to be very busy, indeed.
With orgasms and chocolate.