Here I am in a visit, and we are watching the classic film that started the entire animals-that-play-professional-sports-with-humans genre, Disney's Air Bud.

Air Bud's doggy cage has just fallen off the back of the beat up truck that his owner, an evil clown, is driving. Air Bud is trapped in the cage in the middle of the road. A semi-truck drives by, honks angrily at Air Bud, who is a dog, trapped in a dog cage in the middle of the road. I think the driver of the truck is thinking:

Driver: Hmm hmm, truckin' truckin', gotta keep truckin', deliver the loads, truck truck truck--oh my God! There's a dog trapped in a cage in the middle of the road!
(Honks) "Get out of the f---in' road you g-d---mn dog-trapped-in-a-cage!"
(To himself, under breath) I can't believe how careless and irresponsible dogs-trapped-in-a-cage are getting these days! Well anyway, back to truckin'. Trucktrucktruck�

Next, a family SUV approaches. The SUV hits Air Bud's cage. The road is a long, straight highway, so the SUV has been approaching the cage directly, with full visibility, for at least a mile, but they just barely screech to a stop, and hit the cage. I'm sorry. But this movie, Disney's Air Bud, is just not very believable.

So, for the last couple weeks, I have been suffering with a horrible sore throat, although calling it a sore throat is a little like calling a gunshot wound an "owie". It's the kind of thing where each and every act of swallowing becomes a major event requiring psychological preparation, the signing of waivers, various licenses and city permits, and is then performed under adult supervision by professionals on a closed course. Basically it hurts really bad. Eventually it becomes clear that this is Strep Throat. So eventually, after nearly two weeks of enduring the pain with a manful jut of the chin, I finally give in and go to a place called the Minute Clinic. Minute Clinic is a medical office inside a QFC. They actually have a menu of various checkups and procedures they do, with prices for everything listed right there, like actual services you buy instead of some mysterious and secretive process whose cost you can never know but must simply assume will make you very poor for a while. Here, you just walk into this little office, tell them what's wrong, they check it out, and they give you medicine. Very nice to see medical help demystified like this. Anyway, I go in, they check me out, and I'm prescribed a bottle of Penicillin.

Penicillin! Isn't that cool? Isn't Penicillin like, the first medicine ever invented? It sounds so draconian! I mean this stuff is so classic it doesn't even have a cool logo and slogan to go with it on TV ads. Neat!

Oh, and of course, as I was in the Clinic I thought to myself, huh, it doesn't hurt quite as much as before. And before I'd even taken the first dose, I was starting to feel better, and today, after just three pills from a 20 pill bottle, the pain is almost gone. So basically, I just wasted 80 dollars on a doctor visit, and basically, the Strep was just waiting for my spirit to break and then it says to me, "There, go to the doctor. See, that wasn't so hard was it? I just wanted to teach you humility. If you would have just stopped being such a stubborn baby and gone in earlier I would have left your throat weeks ago. Now give the man all your money!"


Strep Throat you jerk.

Finally, I went and checked out my new house today. I'm moving out of downtown, into Ballard. I'm pretty excited about it. In some ways it's a downgrade from my current place, but it's going to be a different style of living. I went in the bathroom and took the ceremonial First Shit, and the place felt like home.


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