I am still fighting the plague. My nose won’t stop running and is now beginning to get all red and sore from the constant abuse of me honking into tissues that could be a whole lot softer.

Those myths about spunk, sperm, man gravy, sausage juice, semen, love batter, sex goo, life affirming essence, seed of lurve, penile discharge or what ever the hell you want to call it, curing all that ails you…is shit.

I have carpet burn, lock jaw, and a sore throat.

Sorry honey, but your peckercillin, does not in fact, cure what ever ails me.

But it was a good try.

I suppose I shouldn’t bitch. I do, in fact, have new car keys.

(This would be one of the posts I sincerely hope no one in either Boo’s family or mine read…)

Ahem.

On to the pun. (Although, some might see the pun value in the cartoon…Again, hope the inlaws aren’t reading.)

Sign in a pet shop window: “Free legless parakeet. No perches necessary.”

Cut me some slack. I’m sick. I never promised quality.