Stay Away From The Fan

I had a great half-hour chat with my new friend Jennifer last night in bed.
She is my friend because she laughs at my jokes. Not the Ha-Ha-you-made-a-joke but the I can't-stop-laughing kind which only makes me worse. Back in the day me and my brother could make our mom cry begging us to stop cracking her up. Sometimes we would but usually not.
So you have to eat 20 grams of fat every time you take this incivek bullshit, and the thing was an image of a guy on the bus, looks at his watch, takes out a pill bottle and a stick of butter , takes the pill, peels the butter like a candy bar and starts munching. Oh well. You had to be there.
I should clarify. I was in bed. Jennifer was not. She was at work at Care Oregon my health insurance provider. I had just lain down for a nap when my new smartphone rang, which I like because it was so effing expensive I like to get some use value out of it, and I can always nap later.
Anyway Jennifer works for a special division at Care Oregon exclusively set up for dealing with people taking the Interferon triple cocktail and the horrendous side effects it causes. They got somebody there 24/7, and Jennifer had been assigned to get with me because the Pharmaceutical Review Board has accepted my appeal and authorized about $60 K worth of drugs to hopefully avoid having to spring for a new liver down the increasingly short road ahead.
So if you are anywhere near the fan I suggest you step back.

"Build a man a fire, he'll be warm for a night. Set a man on fire, he'll be warm for the rest of his life."