A Butt-Biting Lesson

Well, a certain Mr. Hamm has pointed out that all of you wishing
to say "I told you so" concerning the flu shot must take a number.
Indeed, I hope there are enough numbers in that little red tear-off
dispenser. If not, I will have to behave like the County Health Center
on Shot Clinic Day, and use a stack of cardboard cards with numbers
handwritten on them. And don't be cheering when you get #7, because
that only means we are going through the numbers again, and are
actually serving number 68 at the moment.

Yes, there were a few comments about the Demon Flu Vaccination.
I'm certainly not one of those people who the commenters revere,
speaking in hushed tones as they kiss my royal butt. Nope. None
of that here. People speak their minds. Why, even young Mr. Hamm
was kind enough to point out a couple of posts ago that I am not
a member of his generation. It seems as if he's ready to put me in
the Guiness Book of World Records as the oldest living hillbilly. You
can't hurt my feelings, Mr. Hamm. I am a teacher! Just today, a
young man told me, "You're so old...that I told you to act your age...
and you DIED!" Ha ha! Isn't that funny? I suppose I brought it all on
myself. Another kid had asked me if I had seen the movie Starsky
& Hutch. "No," I told him. "I am so old that I watched the TV show."
They were not impressed. Perhaps I should move to China, and let
a family adopt me. I hear the old are respected in that culture. They
would never take me for a Sunday drive and deposit me at a
nursing home.

Getting back to the original subject of people complaining about
the flu shot...Does it seem that my mind is wandering? Perhaps I'm
in the early stages of that Old Timer's Disease. Anyhoo, I knew
that y'all were already talking about how I should be stewing up
a big pot of crow for supper, what with bragging about how I've
protected my family from a possible influenza pandemic. I know
how you are. You are calling each other and whispering about how
HM doesn't know what she's talking about, and now that old flu
shot has come back to bite her in the butt. And while you're at it,
you're probably all planning to wear jeans tomorrow, with no
intention of telling me, and I will be the only one in slacks. Oh,
and you're probably planning to order out for lunch, and I will
have my roast-beef-on-whole-wheat-with-horseradish-mustard.
Then you'll all be meeting up for drinks after work, but I won't
get wind of it until after the fact, and then the excuse will be, "We
know you don't drink, HM, and you have those two little boys,
so we didn't think you'd want to come. We didn't mean anything
by it. Really."

Owwww! Something just bit me in the butt!