Still putting the pieces of my deteriorating health back together today after my sphincter waged jihad on the porcelin in our master bathroom for most of the night. Let me tell you: no one won. The title of this post comes from an instant message I sent my brother this morning asking him, "Do you remember the movie Mississippi Burning? Right now I am starring in Cornhole Burning." Ah yes, it's good to be blogging again.
I'd like to know who came up with the phrase, "flu-like symptoms." I came to the conclusion at about 3 a.m. last night that the terms doesn't make any sense at all. I suppose you can have flu-like symptoms without actually having the flu, but then it would still be more consice to say "flu symptoms." You either have symptoms that are like the flu or they aren't like the flu. I don't know.
I have been a walking bag of death since my visit to NYC a little over a week ago. I entered the trip with weakened defenses, already coming down with what developed into horrible cough and fever that I needed to use a couple of sick days and a visit to the doctor to finally turn the corner, then out of nowhere last night my large intestine decided to strap itself with explosives and attempt to blow a hole in our house. I almost puked, between the spins and the sweats and general malaise that was my night, but saved myself from cleaning up any type of mess along those lines with several safe and well-timed burps that smelled like a street meat vendor with horrendous B.O. My body sure can be an interesting place.
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