I have herpes.

Last night I had a funny tingle on my lip that suddenly exploded into a giant puss filled giant throbbing ball of no fun a.k.a. pain. Oh, and mild tingling that is not SO awful. My dad (who is visiting from out of town and staying with us) suggested the little tube of creaminess called Abreva. Hi, Abreva? Um, apparently you work for every other HERPES infested ho on the block, why you gotta make my cold sore expand and learn to speak english? My dad says that this Abreva stuff usually ZAPPPSS away your hideous puss pustule before anyone can point fingers and say you have HERPES and you must be shunned and stuff. Usually it works for people that are normal humans that medicine works on in normal human ways, but the past 30 years have taught me two things, 1) I am not a normal human who can take normal human medicine and have a normal human reaction. 2) Apparently cold sores are in some way related to HERPES and even though I have never, ever, never, not once had a cold sore before, I could have been carrying HERPES dormant in my system for like, ages and stuff. So when I was all worried about my Algebra test in seventh grade, or when I was (allegedly) smoking pot in that church parking lot, my dear friend HERPES was there with me all the time. If only I had known this when I was 17 and curled into the fetal position in the back of my closet crying because I felt so, SO all alone. Poor little teenage me, I wasn’t alone, I had HERPES with me all along. Maybe.

Anyway, now I have to go pen my apology letter to Michelle Pfieffer for making fun of her gigantic cold sores in the Witches of Eastwick. If I had known how much they hurt, and how one day I too would be afflicted with the pain, shame, and social ostracism that is HERPES, I might have judged her less harshly. Of course when I saw that movie Up close & Personal I would really have something to hate her for, but that, my friends is neither here nor there, because I don’t know if you heard, but I have HERPES.