You know how when you feel like crap and you just want to get out of your rotten body but you're just stuck? Yeah. Well, welcome to my world.

You know how when you feel like crap and you just want to get out of your rotting body but you’re just stuck? Yeah. Well, welcome to my world.

So maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t been very vocal (or would that be blogal?) lately?

No? Just grateful for one less blog to read.

I hear you.

Well. While I’m able to sit upright and see straight, I thought I’d let you know what’s been going on with me.

Regardless of all attempts to avoid people, I contracted the flu, which has now turned into some nasty upper respiratory spasmaclysm of epimucus proportions.

The CDC has helicopters hovering above my house now. They don’t dare land.

Phil and I have figured out a way to stay connected in that "safest sex" way ever.

Phil and I have figured out a way to stay connected in that “safest sex” way ever.

So I’ve had time to:

  • moan
  • sigh
  • watch all three gory seasons of The Following (which no one should do)
  • hide all my kitchen knives
  • nap (with one eye open)
  • read the local newspaper

Which brings me to man buns. (I know it was quite a journey getting here. Thanks for staying with me, all five of you. It’s going to totally worth it. I hope. Remember, I’m on a lot of medication.)

So I saw this headline in the paper.

I’m not going to lie.

It caught my attention even though I could barely breathe and I was coughing like an overweight, 12-pack a day smoker winded from chasing the Good Humor Truck that failed to stop in front of my house.

Intriguing, huh?

Intriguing, huh?

When it comes to man buns, I can’t just classify myself as a “love them” gal or as a “loathe them” gal. I pride myself on not being prejudiced.

Here’s what I mean.

Okay. I'm loving this.

Okay. I’m loving this.

I'm not loving this.

Sorry. I’m not loving this.

I’m anxious to read this article and see what the man bun controversy is all about.

Please understand this is the most energized alive interested-in-anything-not-having-a-dosage-instruction-on-it that I’ve felt since I can’t remember when.

Then I read that the article is about different kinds of man buns.

Oh, yes. Much to my utter, bitter, you’ve-got-to-be-Elmer-Fudding-me disappointment, this is the kind of man bun all the hoopla was about.

Oh, come on.

Oh, come on.

You know what? I’m not loving it.

You probably won’t hear much from me for a while. I’m still pretty sick. Plus I think I just infected my keyboard.

But I still want to know…How about you? Are you a lover or a loather?