By Tardsie
Save Your Pity For Some Other Fool.
Nothing feels worse against my skin than your pity. I hate hate hate to be pitied. There are some folks who seem to get off on being pathetic, whose lives are an interminable epic of abject failure and unspeakable woe, who just can’t ever seem to catch a break. Save your pity for them.
And Of Course, It’s BYOB.
The one very notable exception to this is if I’m ill. If afflicted with anything more serious than the sniffles, then I’m gonna need you to tear your attention away from whatever it is that seems so damn important to you right now and try to focus for just a moment on what I’m enduring with such stoic bravery. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
I Feel You Guys. I Can’t Eat ANYTHING With This Sore Throat, And I Am Hella Famished! Also, The Soup Is Too Hot.
Promethean Times 
I eagerly await the Lifetime movie detailing your struggles, travails and hardships, with Meredith Baxter as the nurse who against all odds helps you get through your darkest hour when you can’t reach that one damn itch in the small of your back.
(Please tell me Tangerine Dream is scoring teh climactic scene!)
I don’t want anyone’s pity either. A listening ear sometimes, sympathy or empathy at times, but I’m basically a kinda, “Yeah, life blows at times – suck.it.up.” person.
I’m with Chica on this one – suck it up. 😉
And why did I know I would find Mr T here?!!
Ha! You men are such wimps when you’re sick!
Pity is pitiful.
Glad to hear that as you suffer in silence you’re letting your site speak for you in its reliably tasteful and sensitive way.
I’m with the alien red queen on this one. Drink plenty of fluids and sack out on the couch with the remote. You’ll be fine in a few days. And the TV shows will either send you to sleep or provide blog fodder for another year.