Woe is Me

I ate the four hotdogs dogs of the apocalypse last night and now I'm shitting fire. I've talked to the lab boys about it, and they assure me this is completely normal, and I will be in crippling pain for the next three days. I've been told that these hot dogs were clearly labeled as scientific equipment, and that the location I found them in was under a strict quarantine, which I felt was strange, but I figured that was for the employees and therefore didn't apply to the boss. Me. I'm the boss. I'll have the lab boys crunch some numbers and see how quickly we can stop the diarrhea if we use lasers and other gizmos.

Today I went to the ENT and had my ears cleaned and this motherfucker (real nice guy, super friendly) shoves a vacuum in my head and pulls out a ball of wax the size of Arkansas. It was like giving birth through the ear, but unlike the miracle of life, I'm not proud of what I created.