"This better work," thought Vicky as she pointed the syringe up her right nostril. This was only the latest of her escapades in the quest to rid herself of the Malicious Mystery Disease.


And that is why I don't write novels. So, you know that last post? Yeah, I thought my weekend was too good to be true, and it was. Yesterday, I came down with something I like to call, "Sinus Infection met Strep Throat at a bar, and they rode away on the Allergy horse into the Feverish Sunset." My head just isn't clear enough to squeeze in "Balloony-Lightheadedness hehehe," "Ear Infection," and "Drooling Squared." Doc didn't even tell me what he called this thing before he gave me 2 prescription pages.

Now, one thing I haven't mentioned about being ABC is that not only are we expected to follow doctor's orders in Western medicine, we must also subject ourselves to Oriental practices. Yes, yes, I'm talking about stuff like acupuncture.

I'm also talking about weird carrot juice powder, little pills that smell like minty skunks times ten, bigger pills that smell like scintillation fluid times fifty, and sitting in menthol-flavored steam. (The steam really works, though). Now, if Gramps were here, I'd probably be taking all that stuff while walking barefoot in the mountains, looking for cougar chips to burn and inhale - at 5 am when the "O2 is freshest."

So all I guess I'm trying to say is that I'm sick. Sick and ticked at my immune system. I mean, come ON, man!! I've been going to the gym, getting my sleep, choosing not to fat, and eating oat meal. OAT MEAL for crying out loud! I even keep a little hand sanitizer thing on my backpack. What happened, buddy? Pff, now I've kicked off Chen Epidemic VII. Oh think of the germs partying in our achy, decrepit bodies.

Vote Vicky for Optimist of the Year.

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