I have noticed that when I am sick, I am a huge baby. A crabby ass baby that whines. Brett says that's because I'm a boy. He says it's related in some way to my penis. He says all boys are babys when they're sick. He says if boys had to have babies the whole world would end. Perhaps he's right.

My doctor says it's food poisoning. I'm still convinced it's anthrax.

Who can say? Only the CDC which is why I called them this morning. "Hello? Center for Disease Control? I have anthrax. I live in New Jersey and we have anthrax here. I have anthrax. The inhale kind. I have flu like symptoms with no runny nose or mucus of any sort. I'm achy and puking and the diahreah is resistant to Immodium AD and the fever broke, but only for a while."

"Did you see a doctor."

"Yes."

"What did he say."

"She wasn't really a doctor. She was an almost doctor and I think she got it wrong."

"What did she say?"

"That it was food poisoning."

"Sir, I'm sure it's just food poisoning."

"But do you want to take that risk? There is terrorism all around. Didn't I tell you I live in New Jersey? We have anthrax here! New Jersey, home of the anthrax. I go to the post office, sir. I correspond by mail and I use the post office. The New Jersey post office. Do you want to take that risk?"

"Yes, sir, I'm comfortable with that risk."

Yeah, well, it's a good thing anthrax isn't catching, that's all I have to say. 'Cause deathbed or not, I'm still going to Peth's Diaryland Party. You can come too if you follow the rules.

I'm gonna go whine a little 'cause my tummy hurts.

Posted at 12:35 p.m.

previously on Sooner � next on Sooner

last five entries

making Sense of the State of the Union -- 2

Making Sense of the State of the Union -- Pt. 1

But I'm Willing to Learn

Rough Draft

Political Action