CHICKEN POX? But i'm 27....???!!?!?!

So.  I have the motherfreakin chicken pox.  You know how i'm a late bloomer in EVERYTHING?!?!  this totally blows.  i can't meet anyone, i can't leave the loft, i can't have fun.  i'm quarantined.  Please God, forgive me for going to the biggest freakin Korean church in LA this morning and exposing all those Christians to my sickness.  Oh, and for going to Galleria Mall to eat soba noodles and drink bobo tea.  And going out last night to Gaam aka Persimmon and giving it to all those circle-lensed and well-coifed Korean drinkers.  I feel like a monster.  When i take off all my clothes, i look like i rolled around in the green stuff from The Rock.  I have bubbles all over me.  BUBBLES!!  i look like bubble wrap!  and you know how i love popping bubble wrap.  But i can't pop or i'm told i'll have pockmarks!  AAAAAH!!!

As i was saying, last night was Gaam to meet up friends and my dumbass took two 25mg benadryls (tiny little bumblebee looking pills) before i headed out.  By the time Round 2 at NRB came around, i was slurring like Mel Gibson and the room was spinning out of control and it wasn't the alcohol and it wasn't the swirling disco lights.  I went to the bathroom and almost passed out on the toilet.  Ok fine... more like almost fell forward as i was midsquat (i never touch my butt to toilet seats.... nasty!) cuz my legs were shaking so hard.  But that never happens because all of my years of drinkage and ensuing peeage in Korean joints and clubs have culminated in my being a professional toilet squatter with the balance and poise of a lynx pre-spring.  So i knew something was rotton in Denmark.

My sister came and got me, and she made our friend Mark who is a Cedars Sinai doctor take a looksie.  But it was dark and we were all a little drunksie and for all i know my sister pointed out a mole and demanded WHAT IS ITTTT??!??!  Plus, yesterday my little blisters didn't look too blistery.  It could have been anything.  It could have been a flea bite or all in my head, like the crackhead itch.  We had to leave and before i knew it, we were all switched out into flipflops and hoodies and walking from our parking deck to the loft, passing all these partyers and a fuh-reeeeking long line for B-52 that extended around the block.  I think we passed a lot of hipsters, too, but i didn't have the mental capacity to examine them or frown.

Now i'm at home alone while my sister and mum are out getting my Rx which i feel might be too late.  And i'm sitting here on the barstool thinking how it's good that i'm so vain that i wouldn't dream of itching and making future pockmarks.