My plans to post only polished insight this calendar year have already been derailed, thanks to a giraffe with one scratchy, spotted throat. Okay, so I don't precisely remember walking through the cloud of crystallized giraffe spit, but the fact remains that I spent a good twenty minutes ambling through the North Carolina Zoo's African Animal paddock and limped away feeling like a lesser life-form. From all that I can gather, the microbes entered through my auditory canal. Maybe that's why one ear feels like it's smuggling apricots while the other feels like it's been thoroughly blow-torched. Hey, I'm no doctor; I didn't even stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night. For all I know, whatever crawled in my hed and dies did so long before I ever made it down to Asheboro. But as long as I have a half-imagined inter-species sneeze to blame for my maladies - well, that's my story and I'm stickin' with it...Pity, if you will, my wife. A tough little woman with a decade of ER shifts under her belt, she must contend with a husband who can smother a simple head cold in hundred dollar words. In fact, the only reason I'm able to communicate with you now is due to the fact that The Missus has pumped me full of multi-colored, magic pills. I'm not sure what they were exactly, but after swallowing them I played air guitar in the closet for an hour and a half. She say's she'll give me more in the morning - if only I refrain from complaining so much. You got a deal, honey, but if you load me up too much I may very well play Purple Haze behind my back again. But enough of my delusions. I really just checked it to check out. See, I don't feel so good. Whjetehr I wake up with a hankerin' for tree leaves remains to be seen. Just do me a favor, eh? Send someone over to check on me in a day or so. I'll be right here, licking my ankles with my new purple tongue or trying to scratch out The Star Spangled Banner on the family cat...
You may wanna knock first.
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