Could it had been the Pigweed that did me in?

[Warph]

Minute airborne particles attacking my fragile respiratory system.  Pollen clogging the many miles of highways and canals of my sinus's causing headache, spasms, blurred vision and spastic dancing.  I come to you with shocking revelations about ... HAY FEVER.  I must speak quickly, though, because the pollen count is quite heavy and I don't have much time.

Millions of people suffer from the seasonal ravages of this miserable epidemic.  It's medical name is "pollinosis," which I believe is Latin for "please jam a bushel of dried flaxseed pollen up my left nostril."  I know it is a little late for pollen.  Could this have been caused by the Pigweed while weeding the yard tuesday?  I also know from experience that it is not unusual for a hay fever sufferer to wake up and begin the day by sneezing.  Maybe once.... or twice.  Or maybe, like me this morning, 15-18 consecutive times.

The following... could be.... an exaggerated re-enactment of actual non-stop sneezing fit.  (Editor's note: Do not try this at home without the supervision of a certified allergy professional.)

7:01 a.m. -- Jolted awake by that first sneeze of the day, I yawn and gulp down 250 million airborne particles that begin an involuntary chain reaction of misery.  The invaders anesthetize my face and begin time-releasing phlegm for the next 1-12 hours.

7:02 a.m. -- The familiar second sneeze makes my eyes watery and impairs my vision.  Hypersensitivity to any light source adds to the fun.

7:03 a.m. -- On my third sneeze, I temporarily lose the use of my lungs, heart and pancreas.

7:03 a.m. -- My fourth sneeze, a whopper, scares the pee-wodden out of  the road runners and rabbits outside my window.

7:03 a.m. -- With my fifth sneeze I lose the ability to reason and wipe out two-thirds of a box of industrial-strength Kleenex in the 4.5 seconds that elapse before ...

7:04 a.m. -- ... sneeze number six.  This one makes me consider administering an emergency tracheotomy to maintain my rapidly diminishing ability to breathe.

7:04 a.m. -- My seventh consecutive sneeze makes me weep like a baby.  Upon realizing that I cannot remember my name, Social Security number or foot size, I scrap all plans to operate heavy machinery today.

7:05 a.m. -- My eighth sneeze blows out the retina in my right eyeball and fills my brain with strange thoughts about U.S. foreign policy and the pros and cons of deploying ragweed-tipped missiles against Iran.

7:05 a.m. -- Sneeze number nine (I like to call it "El Nino") induces an out-of-body experience in which a crack team of surgical allergists sedates me with 5,000 milligrams of pseudophedrine hydrochloride and extract from my sinus cavity a wad of goldenrod the size of a Polish kielbasa sausage!

7:06 a.m. -- My tenth straight sneeze brings on a sensation of vertigo, itchy lungs, sprained larynx and bronchial tube asphyxiation.  I can't feel my hair.  This keeps up I'll have to start wearing Depends.

7:06 a.m. -- With cataclysmic sneeze number 11, my head slams face first onto my hard tiled floor where it considers placing a call to noted allergy relief specialist Dr. Kevorkian.

About then, I am able to drag myself into the bathroom where my medicine cabinet houses a mind-boggling array of allergy pills promising "prompt, effective hay fever relief."  Claritin, Zyrtex, Chlortrimetron.  I like Chlortrimetron because the box says it contains 47 percent more "oleic acid, potato starch and talc" than the other leading brand.

No luck. Should I take some Tavist-D and wash it down with some Dimetapp?  Or Drixoral?  Dristan?  I dunno, maybe just two aspirins and a glass of gatorade.  A blast of "pump mist" Affrin doesn't stop the sneezing, but makes me wonder whether there is such thing as a quadruple nasal bypass.

Someone told me there's a laser treatment in which they cauterize the nasal membrane, rendering it impervious to most known allergens.  Side effects: The ocean, the desert, roses and beautiful women all smell like burnt toast.  Then I remember my grandmother's secret remedy: Stick your head into a burlap sack filled with a mixture of baking soda, kerosene, Triple Sec and Hamburger Helper. Then breathe deeply and count to 157.  If that doesn't work, I've heard that a Sudafed factory in the Sudan is working on a weapon of mass decongestion that combines 30 milligrams of benadryl with aged Russian caviar stuffed in a 103 year old east indian sneaker, neutralized anthrax and a cherry-flavored uranium isotope.  Hmmmmm...... what's this?   Clarinex.  Might as well give it a try.  If I don't make it, you can have all my worldly possessions, including the bag of Pigweed I pulled up tuesday. 

Feeling better now. .....Warph

[dnalexander]

Warph that is very funny. Have you tried eating a double batch of Warph's Habanero Chili to get rid of the allergens?