I am disheartened, and somehow slightly honored, to announce that I now have an inkling as to what it feels like to be Harry Potter in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Like Harry, I too have been hijacked. I, too, am contaminated. I, too, share my body with a disgusting filth that must not be named. Okay, it actually can, and has, been named. I'm speaking of the villain called Cryptosporidium, and while it may not be as immediately terrifying as Lord Voldemort, it is definitely menacing in its own way. Yes, it is my privilege and my duty to announce the danger that befell me a few days ago; the danger that prowls the public swimming pool near you; the danger that lurks just inside the next drinking fountain you plan on taking a cool, refreshing sip from.
I hope, by this time, that anyone who reads this blog is beginning to get as outraged as I am with the thought of a freeloading bum like Cryptosporidium hitching an unrecompensed ride in a person's small intestine. I know Elliot (from Scrubs) thinks that getting a parasite is "totally awesome," but I have to disagree. I think everyone should recognize them for the scoundrels they are. Sure, thanks to my protozoan roomie, I might lose a few much needed pounds off my lovehandles, but that's beside the point. The fact of the matter is that if I can dibs something by licking my finger and touching it, then actually putting it in my mouth, chewing it, swallowing it, and digesting it should be just as good, dang it.
And another thing... Cliches became cliches because they're universally true. Everyone knows that. So, why does Cryptosporidium think it's so special that "there's no such thing as a free lunch" doesn't pertain to it? I mean, I personally designed that sandwich... I personally told the "Subway Sandwich Artist" the secret to just enough mayo and mustard... and I personally took the gamble on the red onions. Oh yeah, and I PAID FOR IT!
So, I guess that's it.
(This next part is directed at Cryptosporidium. Anyone else may read on at his or her own discretion.)
I am now openly declaring war on you, Cryptosporidium. If you want a handout, go to Canada. If not, chow down on my next meal. It's my very own special cocktail... I concocted it just for you. I'll even share the secret ingredients: 2 parts nitazoxanide tablets, 5 parts absolute, concentrated hate, and 2 parts promethazine (just to take the edge off). And don't forget the side order of CD4 white blood cells. That's right, I'm coming for you, Mother Hubbard. And, oh yeah... I want that sandwich back.
3 comments:
Jesse I thought about your horrible circumstances for hours last night. I feel so bad for you Cryptosporidium sounds awful. However, I must admit that I was thrilled to see you had new post, finally. So while I too am full of seething hatred for Cryptosporidium I am also a little grateful for the weight you are going to loose... oh oops no, I mean grateful that you are back.
so help me, if that cryptosporidium doesn't move out soon, i may have to forcefully remove it. that would be unfun for both you and the parasites.
get a job, c.s.
I had that the same time you did, Jesse...I had diarrhea for 5-6 weeks. I went to several water parks last summer. I am mourning the loss of safety in my favorite leisure activity that I had hoped to share with my kids- but I don't wish to share crypto with them- not good.
Post a Comment