I sat next to the coughing guy in class yesterday. Every class has one this time of year. He’ll be there ’til February, occasionally trading shifts with the coughing girl.

It all starts innocently enough. You sit down and pull out your notes. Then, about five minutes into lecture comes the throat clearing, followed by the first few sputters. By the time 15 minutes has passed, you’re perched next to a full-on phlegm fountain.

I’d rather sit next to the “Outbreak” monkey. It’s a whole lot cuter and probably less contagious.

Wednesday’s forecast: 40 percent chance of me clearing chunks of lung off my desk. Cover your mouth, you bastard.