Greetings from the typhoid ward.

[stoopbeck]

Well. We don't have typhoid, but each of us could be a servicible extra in one of those poorhouse/sickhouse scenes in a Dickens movie. Rattling coughs, sniffles, the whole nine yards. Which is probably why we ended up with this conversation:



Mom: I need to take an Airborne. I wish you would. It would change your life.

Alex: Mom, I've tried that. It makes me physically ill. It's bad enough that I'm sniffly, I don't want to be vomit-y also.

Mom: What about this Zicam? One squirt up your nose, and you never get sick again! [Family friend] swears by it!

Alex: Yeah, maybe next time. I don't see how it could get up my nose anyway. It's pretty impacted in there.

Mom: Alex...

Alex: Seriously. How would it get up there?

Mom: See, there are these little men.

Alex: ...

Mom: And they've got these huge muscles. And they chant, "BEAT! BEAT! BEAT THE PHLEGM!!"


I wish you could have seen the dance that went with that.

Comments

[thelasttoknow03.livejournal.com]

Sometimes I still think you make this stuff up. :)

[stoopbeck.livejournal.com]

Seriously? I couldn't have made that up if I tried. My family... is strange. And random.

[thelasttoknow03.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I know. After a short moment of...disbelief...I do usually realize that there's no way you could make any of this up despite your literary talent.