About Me

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I was conceived by Scotish/Irish immigrants some odd years ago in a rural town in South Carolina. My childhood consisted of my two older brothers beating me over the head with a cold, steel frying pan and my mother screaming at me to pick up the garsh-darn micro machines. After that, I seemed to develop a bit of a deep hatred for Native Americans. Additionally, I mistakenly courted a woman who happened to already be taken. Turns out marriage licenses DO matter. Lastly, I'd like to point out that no one should cross me, for I am officially 13-0 in duels. Unofficially I've won hundreds, maybe thousands. I SWEAR IT.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Dispatched - Excuses, Excuses...

Raise your hand if you had ear infections as a small child. I know you can't see me, but my hand's up. In fact, it's way up. I had some biggins to say the least as a young one, and at a rate that I couldn't even tell you. It seemed as though every couple of weeks I was back at the good Dr. Wexler's office, getting a massive clump of earwax plucked from the inner caverns of my skull with something that resembled a weapon from Hostel. Anyhow, all of the trouble finally came to a head when the doctors claimed that the infections were causing serious damage. I was sent thereafter into the operating room, where giant men and women in white and blue garb would magically cure me with the wonderfully complex ear-tube technology. Many years and not so many earaches later, I'm here doing completely fine, my would-be lifelong hearing problem thrown to the wayside and left to rot and die in the deep past. Turns out, however, it isn't gone. Apparently, I'm scheduled to be obese.

According to a study done at the University of Florida, inner ear infections lead to a very sweet sweet-tooth (we'll call it a sugary, syrupy, Twinkie-tooth), and eventually to obesity. This is just great. Now I have an excuse to give myself up wholly to the perils of weight-gain and the exhilaration of sheer gluttony. Here's the problem: I'm not going to do that, but there are plenty baby belugas in this world who wait for this kind of info. You'll be able to spot them easily; they'll be the one's sitting outside Ben and Jerry's, taking a quadruple scoop of Rocky Road topped with caramel, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, Frank's Red Hot Spicy Cayenne Pepper Sauce, and Italian dressing to the face, only to whip out their box of Twinkies afterward to sop up whatever goo they couldn't pick up with their spoons. And don't forget the fact that they won't be feeling bad for themselves because they'll be giving you an earful about how they think they can remember this one time in third grade, where they needed to leave school because of an ear infection. Or could it have been a toothache? They can't remember. Fabulous. Check out the article.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26391940/

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