Well thanks a lot MISTER Karma, because now I can't brag anymore, at least not verbally. 'Cause I seem to have a bad case of effing fever blisters on my effing bottom lip that make it effing miserable to eat, nag, brag, talk, or sip a salted margarita glass. It looks a little something like this, but not on my tush. It looks like lip-injection gone bad.
Fuckity fuck it hurts. So, no vacation pictures. Just me all complaining today. With lots of meds. And a little sympathy. A little.
So, it turns out you're not supposed to be in the sun when shit like this gets on your lip. Thanks Arizona sunshine. My tan lines are digging you, my lip, notsomuch.