Things You Notice as You Lay Dying

I’m the world’s snarkiest sick person. Fevers make me perfect and the rest of the world decidedly not. Case in point: Ellie Krieger. On Tuesday I woke up from an unplanned nap on the couch to find her show playing on T.V. I would normally rejoice at the opportunity to watch anything other than the Disney channel but, because I was sick, I couldn’t concentrate on anything but her preternaturally smooth forehead.

Seems our Ms. Krieger is friends with Mr. Botox. At first I was mildly amused. She’s on T.V. and is probably under all sorts of pressure to look young and pretty by some leathery, old toad in a suit. I don’t upload my pictures on flickr until I airbrush the hell out of my wrinkles, so who’s to say what I would do in her position? My amusement, however, quickly turned to annoyance around the 32nd time she opened her eyes freakishly wide. I guess Ellie realized that a frozen forehead lacks a certain emotive power. To counteract her frozen face, she repeatedly opened her eyes really, really, really wide while the corners of her eyebrow muscles quivered at the strain of almost being used. She looked like she had Grave’s Disease.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. Didn’t I just read a year or so ago your article on the powerful effect of good nutrition on skin? What happened? Did you finally realize that broccoli and carrots don’t pack quite the same punch as Botulinum Toxin Type A?

I was in a lather by the time The Mister came home.

The Mister: “Hey. How are you feeling?”
Jules: “I’d be feeling a lot better if Ellie Krieger would stop making those damn googley eyes at me.”
The Mister: “What?”
Jules: “Exactly. And she needs another 5cc’s over her left brow. I think I saw movement when she pulled out the blender.”
The Mister: “Not feeling any better?”
Jules: “NoI’mnotfeelinganybetter! I’m dying! Feel my forehead. Is it hot? It’s totally hot, right? Hot and wrinkled, Ellie. Hot and wrinkled. Look! Did you see that?! She did it again!” {click}
The Mister: “You do feel warm. Maybe you should put down the camera and get some sleep.”
Jules: “Yeah. Well. Maybe.”

P.S. I’m sure you must be wondering what kind of loser sleeps with her camera. Well, I have a perfectly good explanation. Fevers make you sleepy. You just can’t fight it! Try as I might, I kept falling asleep on the couch and waking up in a panic, confident Mickey and Nicholas were in all sorts of trouble. At one point, I just wanted to pull them over and say, “Look, Mama is very, very sick. I’m going to save us all a bunch of time and hand over the Henckels right now. Remember: blades out and quick, short jabs. OK? Good. Now give Mama a kiss before she slips into a coma.”

They never got into the knives, thank goodness, but Mikey did find my camera. That’s why I have an awesome picture of this green thing, presumably in my house.

I’m not positive, but I think this is the sun.

At some point Nico wanted in on the fun, but Mikey pulled rank. Nico had no choice but to scream bloody murder. I shot up ten feet in the air from a dead sleep. After I landed, I took my temperature (103!) and decided everyone needed a nap. After the boys were tucked in bed, I went back to the couch and watched 3.2 seconds of Paula Deen fondling mayonaise before falling asleep. I woke up a couple of hours later to Ellie’s frozen face and a camera on the ottoman next to my tissues. Mikey must have dropped it there during the mel’ee.

So, you see, I’m not a loser who sleeps with her camera. I’m a loser with a fever who takes blurry pictures of TV chefs who may or may not be using Botox. There’s a big difference.