Fever Induced Hallucinations

You know when you’re sick with the flu and running a fever, how you can sometimes have those out of body experiences, sort of like hallucinations? I’m the puppeteer looking down on myself and pulling the strings. I make myself think, say and do all kinds of things. Things I may not normally think, say or do if I were in a clearer state of mind. Somehow I become Superman. I’m under the misconception that "I’m the man" - the "you can do it David" attitude glows from my chest. I get these brilliant ideas, like today is the day I can choose my new smartphone. You know, today, when my head is pounding so bad I can barely think. When I am hacking up a storm, not to mention snorting and sneezing every 5 seconds. I’m sweating then freezing. My throat is so soar that I can’t swallow, but in a way that’s fine because my stomach is so nauseous that I couldn’t eat even if I wanted to. Everything on my body aches, including my eyelashes. Oh, it’s a perfect day to go out in the cold rain and spread my contaminants in the Verizon Wireless and AT&T’s stores! I bet they loved all the sick boy germs I left behind on their touchscreen phones. I even gross myself out just thinking about it, so I can imagine how grossed out the next consumer in line to demo the phone must feel. And me being the germaphob that I am, it’s rather ironic that I was the one who was eager to get home and scrub my hands from their dirty phones. All the greasy fingerprints from strangers on there was almost enough for me to not want to touch. Who knows where stranger hands have been! But, I didn’t drag my ass out into the rain for nothing. I was determined to at least give the BlackBerry Storm and iPhone 3G a test drive, even if I have to fight thru the remnants of cootie-filled dirty stranger hands.

So what one did I get? Neither. I didn’t even last 10 minutes total in those stores before I was overwhelmed by the sensation of a Mack truck hitting me and needed to perform a faceplant on my couch. I felt as if the devil took a massive dump on me, and if my appearance was anything like I felt, I’m betting I looked like shit too. Of course the bubbly, bouncing blonde AT&T salesgirl didn’t seem to think that. I’m not sure if she was flirting with me or just trying to make commission, either way, I wasn’t interested unless she had the Robitussin label plastered across her chest and a 2 tablespoon plastic cup fixed atop her head. Once back home, faceplanted on my couch, I turn on the TV. And there another brilliant idea enters my head as a watch a short infomercial. I should have flipped the station, but at this point, my finger was too weak to perform the push button exercise. Just the thought of it seemed like it would take an excruciating amount of effort that I clearly did not have in me. Instead, I allowed myself to be talked into how great the SlapChop is. What’s the SlapChop you ask? Only the greatest invention since slice bread! It’s like it was made for me. Marketed to the bachelor who can’t cook. The SlapChop speaks to me and it says..."Buy me David and I will turn you into a chef overnight!" Now is the SlapChop bragging about its skills and making promises it can’t deliver? Probably. More than likely the SlapChop is a big fat liar, but in my fever induced hallucination, it seems like a great little product!

In my fever induced hallucination, I see myself slapping and chopping anything and everything edible in sight. Just the name itself - SlapChop. I like slapping and I like chopping. What guy doesn’t love destruction? It’s so me! The SlapChop is supposed to make your time in the kitchen easier and for someone who can barely boil pasta without f-ing it up, I could use all the help I can get! Of course, realistically I know that if I buy this product it will most likely lay in a drawer never to be used. Or I will go on a SlapChop fruit and veggie killing spree, then not have a clue what to do next. My kitchen, once pristine and never cooked in, will turn into a place where fruit and vegetables go to die. I imagine mounds of chopped apple, diced onion, and various other foods spread across my countertops and me standing there with this dumbfound look upon my face. By the way, dumbfound is often the facial expression I display when I’m within 10 feet of any kitchen. Bottom line, it’s scary in there and as I’ve said before, this is just reason #376 why I need a girlfriend - I can’t cook. Well, I should clarify. I don’t need a girlfriend who can cook, just one who wants to dine out with me a lot will do.

Speaking of this need for a girlfriend and my fever induced hallucinations, someone may want to inform me that I’m driving my love life down a one way, dead end street when I am asking out girls who have boyfriends. Yeah, I’m guilty. It’s a first for me, but you would understand if you knew the details. Besides, she’s very pretty and super sweet. So it’s hard for me not to have wishful thinking - wishful that she will think I’m incredibly awesome and want to dump her boyfriend for me? Yes? No? Well, don’t ruin the ending for me. I want to see how it turns out. Clear minded/realistic thinking David knows that it’s just a platonic dinner date and one will be a gentleman. I will not get my hopes up that I will win her over with my charm. It’s nice to dream, hallucinate, sometimes though.