It’s the End of the World as he knows it.
“I’m going to end up drowning in my own snot.”
One of my sons has a MAN COLD. In order to protect his privacy in this age of everything on the internet is forever (a concept we hammer home weekly), I will try to avoid sharing his name. Also because he’d find this and make my life a living hell because I dared share something about him online. Dude, this blog has existed for over nine years. I guarandamntee there are stories here about you. And your brother. And they WILL be brought up at future weddings. Hopefully not at job interviews.
“It’s going to kill me!”
Not if I get to you first, my good man.
Tom doesn’t get MAN COLDS. He trucks along, suffering in silence until he finally loses his voice and collapses in a heap. There is no complaining, no whining, no whimpering for sympathy. I appreciate this about him. I am generous with illness sympathy if you’re not a sniveling little wuss (yes, I called you a sniveling little wuss my son, because MAN COLD has done that to you). Yes, you don’t feel well. I get it. The whole freaking neighborhood gets it. Please quit snapping at all of us for breathing. And pick up the trail of used tissues while you’re at it; the dog considers those a great delicacy.
Dear future spouse of said MAN COLD afflicted son: I’m sorry. Please don’t blame me. I don’t know where he got this, I think it’s a recessive gene from somewhere way back in the line. He also can’t roll his tongue, so maybe they’re connected. Be warned, when MAN COLD descends upon his little snot-filled head, he tends to fixate on the irrationalities and unfairness of life and society (tonight it’s the 4th Amendment and the role of government vs. privacy). I recommend ibuprofen, Benadryl, a hot shower, and not engaging in debate; for you I recommend wine. He is a wonderful person, but the MAN COLD has taken over. It’s not him you’re talking to, it’s the MAN COLD. MAN COLD is like the Neanderthal of humanity. He’s upright, but it’s all grunting and pointing and shuffling along. When he gets MAN COLD, call me. We’ll go shopping. I’ll buy you wine. It’s all good.
MAN COLD. Save yourselves, ladies.