Putting the “surge” in “resurgence.”

The bad news is, I am sick as fuck.

The good news is, depending on the minute, I either sound like Sick Phoebe singing her sultry version of “Smelly Cat” on Friends, or like I could successfully supplement my income by taking a side gig as a phone sex operator. (Is phone sex even still a thing? Probably not. I’m behind the porn ball. No, wait… Ew… But I could totally bring it back. Like flannel shirts. Porny ones…)

Right. So clearly I should be keeping an eye on my temperature, because delirium is setting in.

Not at all what I’m thinking about at work…

Monica: “Pheebs, you know what I’m thinking?”
Phoebe: “…How it’s been so long since you’ve had sex, you’re wondering if they’ve changed it?”
Monica: “No. Although NOW that’s what I’m thinking.”