Got hold of a bad hot dog last weekend, which subsequently got hold of me. I’ve been down for the count and am only now returning to something approximating normal functioning.
I’m not sure what parasite was involved, but according to The Yak’s Big Book of Giardia and Other Semi-Pleasant Ways to Spend a Weekend, it doesn’t really matter much. Once the little dudes get hold of your digestive tract, it’s more or less what my martial arts instructor used to call “kicking on the ground.” Which isn’t much fun if you’re the one on the ground.
Like The Random Mother used to say would have said if it had occurred to her: “It’s only funny till someone loses his lunch.” (And then it’s only funny to the rest of us.)
