Dear Pharynges and Upper Respiratory System,

I've known you for a long time. When I had those early nightmares about the Honkers and various crustaceans, you were there for me.

Sweet Jesus, they're breeding.

When I had that kickass Cookie Monster Is A Train Conductor On A Chocolate Train Cake for my third birthday party, you were there.

I couldn't find photographic evidence of this pivotal moment in my life, so here's Liam Neeson giving you some encouragement.

Sure, we've had some bad times. I remember when I was... call it 4? and you decided that I was going to have that strange hybrid dream of a brontosaurus in Free Willy's tank and possibly the Winter Miser or the Burgermeister or someone from one of those weird Rankin Bass Christmas specials that I'm not sure I've even seen and wake up with the worst pain in my ears in my life. Also that rhythmic pounding. Oh, the pounding. I remember wandering around my room and shouting to the heavens, "MY GOD, MY GOD, WHAT HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME? THIS INFERNAL BEATING IN MINE EARS HATH MADE ME MAD!"

The face of madness, ladies and gentlemen. But mostly LADIES.

My point is, yes. There were ear infections. There were apparently enough that people were considering going for surgery because blah blah Eustachian tubes, things I should know but don't blah blah. And then you got the hint that you were yourself in danger (not really, because I just stopped complaining about the pain in my ears because I didn't want to be a bother. See also: broken collarbone, food poisoning 2007), you gave it a rest. Well, part of you did. I mean, I guess you figured that Strep throat would be a better idea? My ass thanks you for all the injections you subjected it to. THAT CAME OUT WRONG.

I think this sums things up well.

Seriously, all in all, we've gotten on pretty well. You've let me know when, hey, there's some sort of badness here. Heck, you've even been good enough to give me telltale signs for these sorts of things (including, as of high school, a sore throat for an ear infection. Because that makes sense.), and I've tried to listen. You didn't get in the way when I tried my hand at singing or acting, and for that, I thank you.

I know that you're going to get sick now and again. That's fine. These things happen. I've been trying to exercise to make that happen less often. Yeah, I hurt my chest, and that made things difficult, but it's pretty much healed now. I'm sorry for that.

But for fuck's sake, cut this shit out. Make up your goddamned mind. Is this a sore throat? A chest cold? A sinus infection? Pick one, you fucking dick sandwich.

Pictured: Resolve, motherfucker.

But do NOT keep this bullshit up with the goddamned, "Oh, today you're going to have an absurdly sore throat. Today you're going to constantly be coughing unless you drink gallons of water at every opportunity. Today your nostrils are going to feel like I jammed Everclear up inside them and am holding it in there." No. No. This is done. There will be no more of that. You are preventing me from doing fun things, and you are preventing me from working effectively. There will be no more of this.

However, there may continue to be me in this snazzy scarf, because if this medicine thing doesn't work out, I can always become a WWI fighter pilot.

Let's Catch Him With His Panzers Down