Spending the weekend in working through a stomach virus. There are better things in life than running to the bathroom every half-hour to drop a soupy deuce. Like, everything. But the worst is past and even Mom called in unannounced because she had a feeling that something was wrong with me. I just told her that it was a really bad case of gas.
I haven't always been a paragon of refined taste. It has taken some mistakes along the way to get to where I am. 'Course, if I'm still using phrases like "soupy deuce" there's probably a ways to go still.
Case in point: during my military service I listened to a lot of, well, crap music. Bands like Extreme, for example:
And they're getting back together, too. Who asked for that?