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5:59 a.m. - 2008-10-07

REASON #263 TO NEVER LET A SICK KID NEAR FOOD FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION


Here's something just a wee bit rich ...

My 16 year-old nephew who went to Texas with us a few weeks back ... hang on to that thought for a minute while I give a brief recap.

Once in Texas, we were told that my Texas nephew's son (who is 7 years old) was really sick ... puking, shitting, saying "McCain/Palin" a lot ... practically delirious. This is the kid who coughed all over the food while it was being prepared in the house of intense heat and nobody would pull him away from the kitchen because he's autistic and strong and just a wee bit violent from never having any pre-natal care.

So anyway ... Coughy McCoughsalot spread his sick germs all over the food by coughing on it all and then sticking his fingers in his diarrhea-soaked ass and pushing his little fingers into all the finger foods. I guess he was marking his territory or something. I can't say for sure because the first time he did it, I walked away and later told my wife to not eat a single thing at the reception.

So ... 16 year-old nephew ... remember him??

He felt pretty ill the day after the wedding reception.

After the doctor took a stool sample and sent it to the Center for Disease Control (yes ... he was that ill), it was determined he had salmonella poisoning.

Now an argument can be had that you cannot catch salmonella by eating food tainted by a violently ill seven year-old's germs and feces residue being jammed into everything that was consumed by the revelers at the reception.

But none of my family got sick other than some wicked colds which I believe we got from spending time in the House of Intense Heat with a germ-spewing child maniac. Once the germs became airborne, there was no place for them to go so they just hung there in the air until you walked through their air space and inhaled them into your immune system.

And none of my family touched any food at the reception.

Coincidence??

Yeah, probably.

But let me have my sick little fantasies, Zippy.



My sister has prodded me into jumping full force into that damned Facebook crap.

I joined it probably six months ago because the girl whose desk is next to mine at work did it and she wanted a "friend".

Bam. Ten minutes later she had her first Facebook friend.

And at that point, I left it alone.

Fast forward five and a half months later and my sister finds my Facebook page.

Now SHE wants to be my friend.

So we're Facebook friends.

Then she tells me this girl we grew up with in Europe is on Facebook and she has photos of when we were teenagers on her page but I had to now be HER FRIEND as well to see them.

Fine. Now I'm friends with my old teenage crush who lives in the south of France.

And I get to see photos of myself when I was rail thin.

Wheee.

And then I start getting these instant messages from my sister and the gal from France.

Right off the bat ... I'm not into instant messaging. When I get on the computer, I'm there for work mainly and a little fun.

I don't get on the computer to get bogged down into artificial conversations that are about as deep as Sarah Palin's love for liberals.

But every time I check my Facebook page, a little message box pops up with "What R U Doing?" as the initial message.

While there are tons of answers to this question, I usually just type "Nothing. What R U Doing?"

When I really want to type "Avoiding you."

Anyway, my sister's badge of honor is that she has more Facebook friends than I do. She has like 30 and I've got maybe six.

And I thought ... I THOUGHT about giving out my Facebook page address here because there's still a dozen or so people that read Uncle Bob because I successfully got rid of most of the assholes who were reading and sending me hate mail.

There's still one or two who hang around here who like to abuse me and my thoughts for whatever reason. Personally if somebody's views on their website piss me off ... guess what? I quit reading them.

Some people can't figure that shit out.

Anyway ... maybe I'll give out my Facebook address here someday and those of you on Facebook could make me a friend and then my sister will get all jealous and wonder how I managed to pull that off and then she'll commit hari-kari or something because she's not that popular after all.

A man can dream ...

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