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lwoodTo mine enemy, currently beseiging mine oculus sinister and its environs:
Thou art a most unwelcome guest. Thou didst come upon me in tender years, all unawares, kissing me and marking my lips in a way most untoward for a child of five. But thy depredations didst not stop there, thou monkey's-rumped son of a syphlitic motherless goat. No, that were not enough for thee, and so ever and anon have I had to fight with thine incursions across the very windows of my soul, a very scar upon the cornea of my oculus sinister.
But this is not a new fight between thou and I. Oh, no. From old have I known you, and even as I did in the ancient of my days do I call allies to my defense!
Behold, I have taken nine grams of Lysine of the L Preparation, which is known to be noxious unto thee, a foul stench to speed thee hence with haste, back to thy well-known gangliac strongholds. When dawn, with her rosy fingers, o'ertops the Red Mountain, I shall bespeak Martel, a mighty chiurgeon of the upstream valleys, and we shall then palaver about which powerful scrolls shall be rendered unto the alchemists of the Longs of Unusual Size. As I see that thou has not yet called thy boorish bacterial cohorts, who bring with them the painful discharges that accompany a swelling of the conjunctiva, this battle should be a simple one. The alchemists will, upon the reception of these scrolls, or upon converse with the very air insubstantial which shall carry Martel's wingèd words, my despisèd enemy, dispense diverse powders and potions to which they are privy, which taken ensemble shall cause thy devocation once more! Thou shouldst know full well their Names, of Acyclovir, of the ophthalmic preparations of Valacyclovir, for their names are anathema to thee, and as a spear in my hand will they be my offense against thee. Tremble in thy strongholds at the sound of those names! Yea, even in my ganglia shouldst thou fear these diverse powders and potions that the chiurgeon, alchemist, and I shall bring to bear!
Do not think that I am so fond of the personal hand of Bilyegr, nor that Oski is so desired for, nor that I am so desirous of the continuation of his personal signature upon my cornea, that I will not work with every power at my defense, no, not even my Art, to speed thee hence, until we have this fight again, thou and I.
For we are old foes, thou and I. As long as thou art willing to lie in wait and strike when I am low, then will I be as willing to bring what I can bear against thee.
With respectful spite...
Translation: Dear coldsore: you suck. No love, Lorrie.
Fucking cold sore on my eyeball again. Am calling opthamologist tomorrow to see which scrips can/should be phoned in to the local drugstore. Happily, it looks like there aren't any opportunistic bacteria along to "help," which means a distinct lack of ooey, gooey, pink-eyed badness. I have been lovin' me some L-Lysine in the meantime. Shouldn't interrupt bardic attendance plans, although I may come in a stylish eyepatch to keep from shedding anything untoward. Just don't kiss my eyeball and we'll all be fine.
-- Lorrie
Thou art a most unwelcome guest. Thou didst come upon me in tender years, all unawares, kissing me and marking my lips in a way most untoward for a child of five. But thy depredations didst not stop there, thou monkey's-rumped son of a syphlitic motherless goat. No, that were not enough for thee, and so ever and anon have I had to fight with thine incursions across the very windows of my soul, a very scar upon the cornea of my oculus sinister.
But this is not a new fight between thou and I. Oh, no. From old have I known you, and even as I did in the ancient of my days do I call allies to my defense!
Behold, I have taken nine grams of Lysine of the L Preparation, which is known to be noxious unto thee, a foul stench to speed thee hence with haste, back to thy well-known gangliac strongholds. When dawn, with her rosy fingers, o'ertops the Red Mountain, I shall bespeak Martel, a mighty chiurgeon of the upstream valleys, and we shall then palaver about which powerful scrolls shall be rendered unto the alchemists of the Longs of Unusual Size. As I see that thou has not yet called thy boorish bacterial cohorts, who bring with them the painful discharges that accompany a swelling of the conjunctiva, this battle should be a simple one. The alchemists will, upon the reception of these scrolls, or upon converse with the very air insubstantial which shall carry Martel's wingèd words, my despisèd enemy, dispense diverse powders and potions to which they are privy, which taken ensemble shall cause thy devocation once more! Thou shouldst know full well their Names, of Acyclovir, of the ophthalmic preparations of Valacyclovir, for their names are anathema to thee, and as a spear in my hand will they be my offense against thee. Tremble in thy strongholds at the sound of those names! Yea, even in my ganglia shouldst thou fear these diverse powders and potions that the chiurgeon, alchemist, and I shall bring to bear!
Do not think that I am so fond of the personal hand of Bilyegr, nor that Oski is so desired for, nor that I am so desirous of the continuation of his personal signature upon my cornea, that I will not work with every power at my defense, no, not even my Art, to speed thee hence, until we have this fight again, thou and I.
For we are old foes, thou and I. As long as thou art willing to lie in wait and strike when I am low, then will I be as willing to bring what I can bear against thee.
With respectful spite...
Translation: Dear coldsore: you suck. No love, Lorrie.
Fucking cold sore on my eyeball again. Am calling opthamologist tomorrow to see which scrips can/should be phoned in to the local drugstore. Happily, it looks like there aren't any opportunistic bacteria along to "help," which means a distinct lack of ooey, gooey, pink-eyed badness. I have been lovin' me some L-Lysine in the meantime. Shouldn't interrupt bardic attendance plans, although I may come in a stylish eyepatch to keep from shedding anything untoward. Just don't kiss my eyeball and we'll all be fine.
-- Lorrie
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No translation necessary.
Date: 2004-10-23 06:17 am (UTC)Have fun at the Bardic!
Re: No translation necessary.
Date: 2004-10-23 09:25 am (UTC)-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 06:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 09:29 am (UTC)You can bet, though, that I'm definitely making an appointment for that or later, and that Valtrex Will Be Mentioned -- maybe there's been something new published about its effectiveness in ophthalmic situations!
We've called the doctor, who is a clever lad and knows that we know damn well what a cold sore on my eye looks like, so is happy to phone in scrips now and see my eye when it's more mutually convenient. Martel rocks my socks; he gives his patients his cell number. Anyway, he's phoning in scrips for the usual battery of anti-virals and we'll go forward from there.
Thanks for the support!
-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 09:30 am (UTC)-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 09:48 am (UTC)You need to get some sleep. ;)
(Hope your eyeball won't keep you from my party! Make Mike drive!)
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 06:00 pm (UTC)Unfortunately, as I already wrote in response to the eVite, I have to decline; you're up against the Greyhaven Fall Bardic and my eye infection. If my eye gets too annoying, I can duck home easily from Greyhaven, but not so much from Mountain View.
I hope you have a happy birthday!
-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 10:34 am (UTC)(Love the sense of humor in that writeup, BTW. Neat stuff.)
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 06:01 pm (UTC)That an eyepatch could later be applied theologically didn't occur to me until much later...
-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-23 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-26 12:24 am (UTC)-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-24 09:37 pm (UTC)-- Laura
no subject
Date: 2004-10-26 12:25 am (UTC)That and $200 of antivirals and antibiotics. Bleargh.
-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-10-25 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-26 12:26 am (UTC)-- Lorrie