FACEBOOK: Infected Part II

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Hercules: The Legendary Journeys really is the best medicine.

Recent sub-clinical studies of the show’s holistic healing properties indicate the presence of strong, anti-pathogenic xen waves that work by realigning the body’s chakrams and can even REVERSE the effects of this alleged “norovirus” in a matter of days! It has now been over 24 hours since •••• last tried to take a bite out of me. There is hope for mankind yet!!

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FACEBOOK: Infected Part I

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First ••, and now I too have fallen victim to the highly-infectious, genetically-engineered retrovirus that has been spreading like wildfire throughout the •••••••• area. Local medical personnel are evidently being coerced and/or bribed into perpetuating the myth that this is nothing more than a simple norovirus, but there are still a handful of us left who know the truth.

To those of you for whom hope yet remains: TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION! Forget the hand sanitizers — stock up on handguns! Don’t open the door for anyone, not even your own mother! And contrary to what the CDC may claim (as if they could ever know better than USAMRIID anyway), it is NOT enough to simply remove the heads of the infected and/or destroy our brains — you must then burn us down to ash. (According to Readers’ Digest, 4 out of 5 outbreak survivors recommend kerosene over regular-unleaded.)

Farewell, my friends! I fear we have once again entered the world of survival horror. Good luck!

FACEBOOK: Home Sick

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[My Kid] was home sick today.

TEXT FROM MY MOM: “How is •••• feeling?  Is he still running a fever?  Did you remember to call the school?”

MY REPLY: “I dumped him off at the ER hours ago and hightailed it the fuck outta there.  His complexion was pastier than mine, and he was spewing profanity in about six different languages… along with what looked to be pea soup.  I then called the school and — after explaining that we were both converting to Roman Catholicism — arranged for his school records (including the IEP) to be transferred over to St. Timothy’s, which he will be attending once Father Karras says he’s in the clear.”

HER REPLY: “That is nice. Don’t forget to send in a note. Or maybe I should just email his teacher for you.”

Open Letter to My 4 1/2-Year-Old

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Dear Son,

I am sorry that you are sick.  If I had the power to experience the ickiness and unpleasant feelings on your behalf, I would do so in a heartbeat, if only because I’m confident I’d remember and unquestioningly obey the age-old aphorism, “If you’re gonna spew, spew into this.”

Yes, I realize how difficult it can be to direct one’s vomit when our little tummies aren’t feeling very well, and not everyone can make it to the bathroom every single time.  But when I’m holding a fucking bucket in front of your face, wouldn’t it be so much easier to just go with it instead of turning away and yelling “NO!” ?

After being forced to throw away my mattress this holiday season because you peed in my bed one morning and didn’t say anything until after 10 pm that evening (when I’d finally noticed the smell), I would appreciate a little consideration.  Seeing that I have yet to purchase a replacement mattress and am thus forced to sleep on the floor, I’d have expected you to show a bit more discretion as to where you choose to unload the contents of your stomach.

And while I applaud your instinct to get up and run to the bathroom, the fact that you changed course to vomit in my bedroom doorway suggests you should further explore these instincts.  In the future, if you are standing in my doorway as you begin to barf, please do not continue on into my bedroom — at least not so long as I am sleeping on the floor.

At one point (shortly before dawn), you did manage to make it over to the toilet.  Perhaps it was simply a lapse in communication which caused to you to aim directly in front of the toilet, spraying undigested grains of Uncle Ben’s Spanish Rice all over the side and base of the bowl and soiling approximately forty percent of my bathroom floor.  If so, I apologize for the confusion and would like to clarify that the purpose of running to the commode when one has to puke is so we may puke into the toilet, not all over it it.

Bottom line: Throwing up on the floor?  Bad.  Throwing up all over Mommy’s blankets and pillows?  Worse.  Spewing into the potty, bucket, trash can, or bathtub?  YES!!!

Thank you for your cooperation,

Housekeeping