Once upon a time, there was a girl who was really a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair because the water in Nashville is as hard as the rock holding up the Matterhorn, who caught cold.
She believes that she caught it because the weather Gods were playing jokes with the seasons. Anyway, she went through roughly 4,307 boxes of tissues and became perpetually crabby.
She woke up one morning to find that she had sneezed up her intestines.
The Hobo Nose Cold was quite similar to smallpox, the black death and raccoon rabies.
The moral of the story is that there is no moral to any story. Just that the hobo nose cold kept winning.
By the end of the 15th day of having said hobo nose cold, she decided to name it Charlie Sheen.
The end.
The damnable respiratory stuff going around this season is the worst ever because it JUST WON’T GO AWAY. I had it for at least 3 weeks, and now it’s pretty much gone (definitely had it before Christmas), and it sent poor baby Georgia to the hospital for Christmas and it was probably all gone a day or two ago. It’s the pits.
This hobo nose cold sounds like a beast. I hope it packs up its bags and leaves soon!