My Dad Should Have Been A Doctor

I've elaborated much here before about my father's torturing of the English language, he does it unintentionally but it turns out pretty hilarious at times. This post is a perfect example of this.   Anyhow, whilst I was hacking my innards up via the drama cough the past week or so, my Dad hands me a cough drop... a Ricola cough drop. 

He drops it in my hand.


Looks me square in the eye.


And says....

"Here, try this.  That's an E Coli right there.  They really work."


I went into a coughing spasm of course.

Well I'll Be Damned...

It still works.

The old world has done did a whole lotta spinning 'round since I posted last.  Everything has been good and all that jazz, I just got really really busy with stuff.   What kinda stuff, says you?   Well, all kinds of stuff.  Work stuff.  Life stuff.  Family stuff.  Health stuff.  You know, stuff.

The latest though, I've spent the last 3 days sicker than a wormy mule.   I had some sort of something that made me cough so hard I kept having to swallow my lungs back down.  It was pretty horrifying the first time or two, but I got used to it.   Seriously though, Sal and I just don't go to the doctor for much stuff... and we never go to the hospital or ER.  We just don't.  Yesterday was bad enough that she asked me on 3 occasions if it was time to go to the emergency room.   I didn't.   I feel better today.  I think I'm gonna live.   Hoo Freakin' Ray.   Did you know you can pick up a good used iron lung on Ebay?  Me neither.

I may have to ease back into this whole blogging thing friends.  Be gentle with me.  Use lube.  Thanks.

Oh heck, here.   I got you a picture to look at.  I don't know what it means or anything, but it's nice to look at.  Print it out real big and hang it above your desk.

Okay.  That's it.  I'm just easin' back into the funny...