Flo’ sho’

I think I might be content with a life in which my most significant and satisfying relationship is with Flonase.

“Drugs, man, capital D, Drugs.”

The doctor put me on a new drug*, and told me repeatedly that if I notice a rash to contact her immediately.

Seriously, you guys, am so goddamn sexy I don’t even know how y’all deal with me.

This is especially fun because there’s always SOME reaction somewhere on my skin. I already had eczema (or SEXzema — amirite, fellas?), and my skin reacts to perfumes, soaps, scented feminine products (THAT? Was a great day.), dryer sheets, certain fabrics, shaving, and men’s facial hair when they kiss the BEST places**, so… really, what’s one more?

*Some days I miss being on Abilify — it was SUPER fun feeling like I was ALWAYS over-caffeinated, getting shit done LIKE A BOSS, and not giving a baker’s fuck about anything, including if I slept ever again. Alas, not a sustainable lifestyle. Or so they told me.

**I almost always find this reaction worth it. Fine, whatever, I’ll get psoriasis — just keep your mouth on my neck. It will end well for us all.

Greetings from the Drakkar Vortex.

In a fog of a male coworker’s cologne this morning at work, I am reminded of how much I adore and completely get off on the smell of a man just out of the shower. Maybe wearing deodorant, if you had time to put it on before I grabbed you and had my way with you.

Gentlemen. You smell amazing. Ease back on the Axe. Those commercials lie — I can’t get it up for you if I feel like someone punched me in the chest. I’m not one to science, but I don’t think that’s how pheromones work.