Amphibians R Us

I have a sore throat. This doesn't sound like a major thing, until you take into account my incredibly low tolerance for pain and general wussiness, and the severe soreness of said throat. This is a serious sore throat. I sound like an eighty-five-year-old woman with a pack-a-day habit, and Luden's cough drops, which have always been my best friend in times of crisis, do nothing. A few people, upon hearing my voice, have grinned idiotically and exclaimed, "Gosh, sounds like you've got a frog in your throat." No, really? And it's not a goddamn frog-- if there were just one frog, I would be happy! No, this is what happens when the Budweiser frogs invite their family and entire social circle to a wild party in my tonsils, one to which they did not even have the courtesy to invite me. And I'd tell the annoying idiots this, but I can't get my voice above a whisper.

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Okay, just talked to S (because the throat is better and I can talk now) about some BBG stuff, and am now in total awe of her work ethic. The girl is in charge of tech pretty much until she graduates (which keeps her at school past dinnertime every night), S'ganit for our chapter, taking much much harder classes than me, and getting better grades. Girl makes bees look all lazy and unmotivated and shit. I promised her that when the First Church of S is started to honor her unfuckingbelievable dedication to about nineteen different things, I'll be first in line for the collection plate. Dayum.