Sometimes I exaggerate. Not on this blog, of course. Or on social media. There are too many tweenagers reading who would immediately call me out for even the slightest bit of embellishment. No bedazzling of my stories, you guys—it’s all 100% accurate. BUT! I occasionally will say something like, “Oh my god, that bug was the size of a small human,” and while it is, inarguably, larger than the average bug, it is not, however, actually the size of a human.

Except there was that one time that there was a bug that actually was the size of my entire hand and no one believed me until I showed them the live evidence on the floor of my bathroom in my parents’ house in Conyers and then everyone was simultaneously impressed and mortified. It really was the size of my hand.

But you guys, this pill I just took? It’s bigger than the vile Materna pills.

Bigger. 

I wish you could have seen the contortion-y Cirque du Soleil-like performance I just gave trying to swallow this massive Mucinex pill. Or maybe it’s best that you didn’t see it. It was Elaine Benes meets Carlton Banks meets that Pants on The Ground dude.

Sweet Fancy Moses.

I figured that now that I’m home from my trip, I need to start sleeping again and medicating. Ain’t nobody got time for this.

When we crossed the border yesterday, we decided to declare the $170 worth of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, but we kept our plague to ourselves. The last thing we needed was to be quarantined at the Nexus bridge at Niagara Falls.

Cough, cough, sneeze, sniffle, cough, hork.

I am a vision.

A fever-y, snot-faced vision.

But at least now I have enough Mucinex coursing through my veins to feel a little bit better.

And enough for the late Andre the Giant too, it seems.