Yeah, I'm sick. Wasn't so sick yesterday, but it's all coming back to me nooooo-ooowww!!! Eh-enyhow...! Art's playing International supervisor while Ruben's gone. And packages stayed behind. LOTS of packages. Over 60 International, I'd say. And 4 early AM's, 3 High-Value's, and another shitload of Domestic Next Day Air's. Boy, are we screwed. Thank God all I handle are the Internationals, which is gonna be a task in itself to send out today. I got permission from Art to get to work a bit early to help Juan release all the packages Aaron and I placed on Hold last night. It was a rough day.

And a rough day calls for hardcore hydration. We were all sweating like stuck pigs by the end of the Sort (well, except for Zamira, who seldom gets her tiny cutesy little hands dirty. She's too delicate; a fragile pwetty flower. Please make keen observation of the sublte sarcasm used here, and take notes if you will, for future refrence), and were tired as hell. I had a Blue Coconut Slushie I'd bought at Stars yesterday (of course, I'd stuck in the freezer), and I'd offered some around before the sort started. All my coworkers declined. Oh well. More for me! *chugga chugga chugga*

By the end, though, that was a different story. Didn't I mention we were all sweating and tired and... *gasp!*... thirsty? So, observing Aaron out of the corner of my eye as a chuggled some frosty blue goodness, I noticed him quietly staring, sweat streaming down his face in torrents, soaking his shirt and shaggy brown hair. I cocked an eyebrow in his general direction as he walked up and stood next to me, and emerged from my cup with a blue-lipped grin. "Want some?" I tilted the cup in his direction. "Nah," he replied, the lying bastard! I knew he wanted some! It was in his eyes! (Ok, I'm trying to make my typing look all malevolent and shit and failing miserably. I'll stop now.) "You sure?" I pressed on coyly, thoroughly enjoying the burning wanton in his eyes for the blue stuff in my styrofoam cup. I wanted to laugh at him, badly.

"I'm getting sick," he explained weakly. (Gah! I could almost sense the whine in his voice! Mua-hahahaha!)

I shrugged nonchalantly. "That's okay; I'm sick too." Which is true. I've been sick all fuckin' weekend. All of New Year's Eve, and all of New Year's Day, too. I'm sure I came online during that time sometime to bitch and complain about it on my diary.

He gave in. (Aha! I knew it!) He took my cup and tilted back his head and started chugging the azure ice. Thing is, he didn't stop. Hey - hey! That's enough for one day, buddy, stop! Leave some for me, you bastard! But of course I didn't say anything. We were all tired, so I contented myself with sucking on a spoon I'd brought from home (I'd intended on slowly savoring my blue coconut delicacy). It was either that, or bite my tongue, and I value my organs very much. Yes, you morons, the tongue is considered an organ! I could go into a whole anatomical explanation about it now, but I digress.

Anyhow, Aaron had his (large) share of slush, and so I turned to Juan and he had a go at it. Juan took only a few gulps before he handed the cup back to me, and Zamira still refused some, saying how it was all ice, and she was, ehem, "sick". Y'know, that thing that chics get every lunar cycle or so that makes them smell weird and puke and shit. Fine. I get the rest. And there was still a quite a bit left; it was a big cup. Everything's bigger in Texas. *sly grin*

The point of my story was... wait. Do I ever have a point? Nah! But the fact is, I'm starting to feel the effects of Aaron's admonitions from yesterday. Yeah, he was starting to get sick. And yeah, I was getting over my cold. But I don't know if it's due to his cold, or the ice down my throat, or the mercury swiftly dropping on the thermometer outside... I'm getting sick again! Whaaaa! *makes scrunched-up face like the babies*