Murphy's Law - when lobsters bite back...

I'm a little upset right now, cuz I wrote an amazing blog and then when I went to "post" it, the computer froze up - couldn't locate the server or some crap... I lost the entire blog. Not a happy guy right now.

I guess I shouldn't complain. I like it here, really. I do. I especially love the 84 hour work weeks. Although the fact that we only have about 30 hours worth of work to do, does allow me the opportunity to write these lovely little anecdotes.

At least my rack doesn't creak like LT Lee's does - but I guess since he sleeps on the other side of a 3/4 inch piece of plywood it doesn't make much of a difference who's rack it is, huh? Nor does it matter that it's his alarm and not mine that goes off six or seven times each morning sometime between 0500 and 0700... Despite two coversations with respect to his alarm snoozing and door slamming attributes, to which he assured me it would stop, it hasn't. He's leaving soon, and I can't say I'll miss him.

At least the food isn't too bad. Especially on Friday's. We are fortunate enough to actually get Surf-n-Turf Fridays. They grill up steaks on a large charcoal BBQ, and they serve Lobster, Fried Shrimp, Corn on the Cobb, and some damn fine Mac-n-Cheese. All you can eat, too. Can you imagine that? And this week we had a special visitor to dinner... No relative of mine, but Mr. Murphy paid us a visit this week. 8 cases of food poisoning, including yours truly, had him to thank.

I can only express the pain I felt, the scalding, bubbling infernal affair, as if I'd guzzled a dozen or so ounces of battery acid. Between my midnight and 0500 latrine calls, I don't think I got more than a few moments of sleep. I don't think it was the agony so much as the fear that I would shart the bed. For those of you that are unfamiliar, a "shart" is the new up and coming verb for that action that initially you hope will be flatulence, but are so very UNpleasantly surprised by another intestinal output.

Well, at least between my 14 trips to the latrine and my newfound fear of the dining facility, I'm relatively assured to lose those pesky "LBs" I've been so irritated about lately... Just don't know if I'll have the energy to stagger to the gym, let alone hoist any weights off the racks.

As far as I know, the only fatality to this weeks unfortunate debacle was a pair of Ehren's skivies. He admitted earlier today that he had, in fact, sharted himself. Poor lad. I'm feeling much better now... Ooops, spoke to soon - be right back!!

Hey, thanks for waiting. Appreciate that. And no, I didn't shart... As I was saying, I don't feel nearly as bad as I did yesterday and this morning. Although thanks to my elevated state of dehydration I now have another mild (not nearly) migraine. But I'll live.

I'm on my way to dinner... Hmm? Should I have the peanut butter and jelly or the tuna fish - oh wait, I've sworn off seafood. Just a little tip from Uncle Mick - don't eat seafood in a landlocked country w/ an average daily temperature in the 100s. I hope they have grape jelly, that's my favorite. Of course, strawberry is favorite, too. Only grape is more favorite. Both are favorites, just grape is more, more favorite... In case you don't recognize it, that's a "shout out" to a fine comedian Brian Regan regarding sno-cone selection...

Have a wonderful day, and please - try not to shart...