Welcome to our regular Saturday feature “What Aggravates Me”
by Comedian John Knight
Frigid, bone-chilling, sub-zero, frostbite, these were all terms used by weather men to describe what we were experiencing this past week. Makes Pittsburgh sound like a vacation hot spot in January, doesn’t it?
Of course there’s also the wind-chill.
“It’s three degrees but with the wind chill it feels like negative thirty-seven.”
Yeah, in case minus three wasn’t bad enough.
I miss July. There’s never a wind chill factor then.
“It’s eighty-nine but with the wind chill…well it still feels like eighty-nine. It’s July after all.”
Aside from the cold and snow season, it’s also cold and flu season. You know, the time of year when people are walking around hacking, sneezing and oozing phlegm and mucous from every orifice. These are the times when I do what I can to keep these people from infecting me.
I think they do it on purpose. You have to know better than to shake somebody’s hand with the one you’ve been coughing into all day, don’t you? What kind of twisted people are they? Deep down they must be thinking,
“Why should I be the only one feeling miserable? Let me give this to somebody else.”
That’s why I have to do everything possible to keep them from touching me. Not only that, I have to remember not to touch anything they may have infected. You can tell who they are. Walking around with blood shot eyes, liquid dripping from their nose, scratchy voices and blank stares. It’s like being surrounded by zombies and they’re trying to turn you into one of them.
The problem is they aren’t zombies, so you can’t just shoot them in the head. Just do everything possible to avoid them. I have my ways of dealing. When somebody tries to shake my hand, I just bury them deep in my pockets and say,
“My dermatologist told me not to make contact with anybody until they know what this rash is.”
Speaking of doctors, I had to go in for my annual physical this past week. I entered the waiting room and it was like a germ factory. The zombies turned around to look at me and if one of them had said, “brains,” I would have run out of there.
I think they were all too miserable to say anything. I just checked in with the receptionist, took a seat and covered my face with my coat. I was trying my best not to inhale. People were looking at me like I was the one with a problem. Next year I think I’m going to look into getting one of those plastic bubbles. I can live inside of that until the whole flu season ends.
It seemed like forever before I was called away from the germ warfare going on in the waiting room. I was beginning to feel dizzy from my lack of oxygen when a nurse opened the door and called my name. I went through, careful not to touch anything. As I walked in, the doctor looked at me funny. Probably because I was limping and the way my arm was hanging.
“What happened to you?”
I just said,
“It’s a long story.”
That was easier than explaining that I threw out my shoulder trying to open a door with my elbow. I also pulled my hamstring attempting to flush a urinal with my foot.
That thin paper on the exam table wasn’t giving me any sense of security. I could sense the germs of all that had been in there before invading my body. When the doctor asked me again why I was acting this way, I told him I was trying to avoid flu germs. That’s when he offered to write me a prescription.
“Will it keep me from getting the flu?”
“No, but it will help with that anxiety.”
That’s the problem with the medical industry. Instead of coming up with a cure for colds and flu, they want to pass out anti-anxiety medicine like M&M’s. I don’t have anxiety problems. I’m just trying to avoid getting sick. Besides, I’ll be fine once my bubble gets delivered.
Follow John on Twitter @jknight841
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