Damn, Mom, I'll write in my blog later! Just five more minutes! Gosh! I'm getting up already!

How do I feel? Mmmmm.....I feel slightly better than if I had gotten a colonoscopy without any anesthesia, but worse than if I had been kicked repeatedly in the balls. If I had balls. Which I do, but they are hidden inside and called ovaries.
Every time my drug-induced haze wears off, I realize I probably shouldn't let my son run around with those scissors and playing with matches. Call me crazy, but I swear the makers of Nyquil are putting some serious hermaph...no, halophili...no, necrophil...shit, that ain't it either...hallucinogenic compounds in their product, 'cause I've been having some seriously disturbing dreams... I mean, how the hell does the abominable snowman end up in my dream? This one was a doozy:
I'm sitting in the passenger seat of a car while the yeti is driving, with accordion music blaring through the speakers. I am wearing a lime green leotard with yellow polka dots on it and a firefighters hat. I look in the back seat, there's a freakin' baboon sitting back there, wearing a rain slicker and playing the bagpipes. I am trying to tell him to be careful of something, then I wake up. What the hell was that all about???
There are two possibilities: either I need to reduce my drug intake drastically, or I need to see a psychiatrist. I am open to suggestions.
I am going back to bed in a few minutes, minus the magic juice. If the yeti comes back, I'm going to kick HIM in the balls, see how he likes it.