My Father, the Witch Doctor

So everybody in the family has the crud. Christy and John just getting over it, thanks to the intervention by Dr. Mike, who prescribed some heavy duty antibiotics (I suspect there might have been an ulterior motive there, as the directive came from his wife, the director of the little production you see in the post below).

By the way, for those of you who totally missed it because of your incredibly weak powers of observation, the midget impersonating Sonny Bono is none other than John. I hope to have some truly mortifying pictures soon. Unfortunately, I was across town at Jonathan's drama production and missed the beginning of the karaoke Killer, but rumor has it there's a full video, and I know there were some cast pictures taken. I just have to get my grubby paws on them.

Anyway, as I was saying, everybody has the crud. Those goobers are sucking down Triaminic and all those over the counter chemicals that don't do anything anymore because they took out all the good drugs due to the meth labs. They are just drinking flavored syrup.

In the spirit of my father, the witch doctor, I opted to get the grossest, nastiest-looking natural remedy available--some orange-flavored zinc tablets that I'm supposed to suck on. Let me just say, it's like sucking on a stick of chalk. Bleh. I can't begin to describe the texture, let alone the awful aftertaste.

Only. Get this. I'm almost over it. I promise the crud lasted three days tops. I shot saline up my nose, and sucked on these brown pellets that look and taste like something unmentionable, and I'm all better.

Hmmmm.