Hey team so I kicked the ever-living shit out of swine flu today. I definitely got it, that's for sure. I suppose my invincible immune system was slightly tarnished by the fact that I was run over by a fast-moving car yesterday and despite being a man of steel and beating the shit out of that unsuspecting car door with my knee my knee got a considerable amount of skin torn away and he ran over my foot and cracked some of my toenails (fuck yeah man I get my foot freakin' run over and all it does is crack two of my nails? I should be fist-fighting volcanoes or superman with this power).
So obviously my body has to swarm the fuck out of those injuries and murder the hell out of the bacteria and they didn't have chance but I'm sure they were in cahoots with swine flu since it snuck in while my beastly immune system absolutely ruined those lousy bacteria. But then it's like "oh shit we got swine flu" because the amount of sickly horrible people around me somehow outgunned my perfect hygiene and my weakened immune system.
So this is living proof the swine flu is a danger, nay, a menace to society - if I, a healthy strapping 98 year old with a weakened immune system can get it, who is safe? Who is safe I ask you?
But yeah back to kicking the shit out of it. When I woke up this morning I had a grade-A, magnitude 11 headache from hell and I could tell my immune system was kicking the shit out of everything it was near. I felt groggy and horrible, I had chills, and a powerful fever. It was an uphill battle as swine flu had already taken hold and I basically sat on my ass for 3 hour staring at the ceiling. I didn't move, or do much. I had a muffin.
Then around lunch I decided enough was enough and it was time to bring in the cavalry. I got myself a huge honking block of Colby jack cheese (about 2 pounds) and at all of it in one badass sitting. That's right, I ate about 2000 calories of cheese in about a half hour but I wasn't done. I got myself some strawberry-kiwi juice and some orange juice and some V8 juice. It was time for some motherfucking vitamins. I downed them all in an instant.
I could feel that I was doing better but it wasn't time to quit. The swine flu was drowning and sinking in a tidal wave of killer vitamins in a manner I imagine was quite similar to many of those corny medication commercials about taking care of foot fungus.
So I started yelling. And I mean, yelling yelling. I screamed at the swine flu at the top of my lungs and it was cowering in the corner of my darkest location of my body. It was preparing for a counter-attack, it was time to end this.
I gathered up my battlecruisers and stationed all my siege tanks around his base. He had a tone of spore and sunken colonies left so I couldn't get too close, I had to take my time. He was sending zerglings towards my position like crazy as well as a bunch of mutalisks but they were no chance against my now invincible stronghold. He was out of crystals and vespine gas.
All of a sudden, Captain Vitamins and General Minerals came flying in with hoards of archons and zealots, reaming their ground forces. My battlecruisers move in.
It's all over! Swine flu defeated! 3 hours, no ill-effects, I'm all better. Fuck yeah.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I should probably respect Native culture or something
Greetings fellows my name is Moleké of the Rain People and I am here to pass along my story so that it will never be forgotten in the histories.
It was a night of fog and dew with the shadows dancing favorably in the mist. The elder priests of our tribe told us the day of harvest grew near and that we should prepare our ritual sacrifice to appease the Gods of the Rain. They told me, "Moléké, you must be the one to prepare our ritual meal. Go now into the forest of the Rain and return to us with the food so that the Gods do not torment our harvest."
This was a very important task; if the feast is not performed according to our strictest ancestral traditions, the Gods will unleash their horrible plague upon the country. And it was I, Mõléké, who was given this great responsibility.
However I must tell you now before I continue my sad tale that I did not succeed in my mission. As the dawn of the harvest grew near I was unable to gather enough food from the unforgiving and dangerous forest and I wept for ages as I watched my people starve and die. This is the sad story of Mõ‡éké, the last of the Rain People.
I went into the forest 72 hours before the harvest was to begin. There it was that I found our most prized game, the wandering head of lettuce. The lettuce is the most important part of our ritual salad but also one of the most dangerous to hunt. I, MÕ¦ék¥é, am a skilled hunter and warrior but I have not often tamed wild lettuce.
It was a small herd but a formidable one with many sentries and powerful nodes to alarm the entire herd of any approaching danger. I used my training to the fullest extent but the slightest ruffle of leaves from my approach sent them scattering and klaxons blared across the forest louder than the greatest drums of my people.
I was ashamed that I could not catch the lettuce. It was required for our rituals and the great ceremony and feast but I could not even catch a single head of the wild beast. I hung my head low in disappointment and saw several stems of broccoli growing from the forest floor.
Now broccoli is not a traditional part of the great feast but the Gods would not know the difference. Broccoli, being one of the least intelligent and dim-witted of all the wild beasts in the forest, would not require as precise and delicate hands as lettuce or the wily tomatoes.
In hunting tradition, I, Andrew, very quickly set up a hammock to indicate the ease at which I felt I could capture the animal. I then sped after the broccoli in hot pursuit across the swamp. I pursued a small crowd and finally, after several hours of life's most dangerous game, I corned the wild creatures in the small of a tree. I scooped them into my pouch of bear skin and hollered triumphantly.
However, the Gods were not happy with our sacrifice. The harvest came and went, but everything we touched turned rotten and fell off of the stems. Great globs of beef lay strew across the land rotting as my people stared out and wept. It was a time of great sorrow.
I, Moe, was exiled back into the horrible jungle for failing to appease the Gods. That is where I still live. However, the Gods decreed that I was never to perish and that I, Sancho, should watch the torments of my people for all eternity as they starved and died in many horrible ways.
That is my story. I was Moleké of the Rain People, I am now simply Moleké, the exile of a great people I once served.
It was a night of fog and dew with the shadows dancing favorably in the mist. The elder priests of our tribe told us the day of harvest grew near and that we should prepare our ritual sacrifice to appease the Gods of the Rain. They told me, "Moléké, you must be the one to prepare our ritual meal. Go now into the forest of the Rain and return to us with the food so that the Gods do not torment our harvest."
This was a very important task; if the feast is not performed according to our strictest ancestral traditions, the Gods will unleash their horrible plague upon the country. And it was I, Mõléké, who was given this great responsibility.
However I must tell you now before I continue my sad tale that I did not succeed in my mission. As the dawn of the harvest grew near I was unable to gather enough food from the unforgiving and dangerous forest and I wept for ages as I watched my people starve and die. This is the sad story of Mõ‡éké, the last of the Rain People.
I went into the forest 72 hours before the harvest was to begin. There it was that I found our most prized game, the wandering head of lettuce. The lettuce is the most important part of our ritual salad but also one of the most dangerous to hunt. I, MÕ¦ék¥é, am a skilled hunter and warrior but I have not often tamed wild lettuce.
It was a small herd but a formidable one with many sentries and powerful nodes to alarm the entire herd of any approaching danger. I used my training to the fullest extent but the slightest ruffle of leaves from my approach sent them scattering and klaxons blared across the forest louder than the greatest drums of my people.
I was ashamed that I could not catch the lettuce. It was required for our rituals and the great ceremony and feast but I could not even catch a single head of the wild beast. I hung my head low in disappointment and saw several stems of broccoli growing from the forest floor.
Now broccoli is not a traditional part of the great feast but the Gods would not know the difference. Broccoli, being one of the least intelligent and dim-witted of all the wild beasts in the forest, would not require as precise and delicate hands as lettuce or the wily tomatoes.
In hunting tradition, I, Andrew, very quickly set up a hammock to indicate the ease at which I felt I could capture the animal. I then sped after the broccoli in hot pursuit across the swamp. I pursued a small crowd and finally, after several hours of life's most dangerous game, I corned the wild creatures in the small of a tree. I scooped them into my pouch of bear skin and hollered triumphantly.
However, the Gods were not happy with our sacrifice. The harvest came and went, but everything we touched turned rotten and fell off of the stems. Great globs of beef lay strew across the land rotting as my people stared out and wept. It was a time of great sorrow.
I, Moe, was exiled back into the horrible jungle for failing to appease the Gods. That is where I still live. However, the Gods decreed that I was never to perish and that I, Sancho, should watch the torments of my people for all eternity as they starved and died in many horrible ways.
That is my story. I was Moleké of the Rain People, I am now simply Moleké, the exile of a great people I once served.
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