Oh Scylla! Man… I hadn’t really laughed in a LONNNNG time, that story was just TOO funny however. The above line about made me cry from laughing.
Thanks.
Popular vernacular, creative license, don’t you know?
Scylla, dude, you SLAY me. Man, that was funny 
To share in your misery, allow me to disclose the following anecdote, from this thread:
Hardly as eloquent as yours, but certainly in the same genre.
I laughed so hard various parts of me now hurt.
I’m still panting.
Scylla, I say this as a recent flu-sufferer, a relative newbie in board terms and as a fellow human being…that was the damned funniest thing I’ve read since some of Wally’s choicer offerings.
Dagnabit, man, you caught the essence of wretched illness, right down to the sound effects (very hard to convey in print*) not to mention the more ridiculous aspects of Death By Gastro-Intestinal Revolt.
–>snorks, honks, weeps with laughter, hoots, guffaws<–
Now doncha worry. The wimmins in yer life aren’t out ta get ya. -->howls, clutches ribs, falls on floor in hysterics<–Just clean up and cuddle in your Chair Of Power.
–>mops eyes<–
At least you were drinking OJ and not sugar-free raspberry drink. Honestly. Gives new insight into “technicolor illness”.
Still snickering,
Veb
Hey, come on folks, when there is food poisoning in the family it’s cause they share a common table, dish rags or food source. However, if afterwards one gets sniffy, it may very well be a respiratory virus. But you can have food poisoning, the cold & a flu all at the same time. Gross.
I’d teach ya all how not to get sick; but I’ll do that in another column.
I thought I had a cold, but now I’m getting chills and horrid body aches, something I associate with the flu. It’s miserable (so am I, waaaaaah!), but reading Scylla’s story I laughed so hard I literally cried. Thanks for brightening a crappy Monday morning.
Did I mention that this is not a good week for me to be sick?
Veb:
I know what you mean about the Rasberry drink. As a child I ate Strawberry Jello, drank milk, and got sick. My mother thought I was throwing up blood.
She rushed me straight to the hospital going “Don’t die! Don’t Die!”
Meanwhile I’m saying “Mommmmmmmmm? Can we stop at Toys R Us? I wanna new Star Wars Action Figure.”
Scylla,
Others have given some quite nice suggestions for daughter, but nobody has aproached the topic of your wife. I’d like to throw in a suggestion. Get yourself a nice, loud battery powered siren. You need the kind with a wire running to a switch to turn it on. If you cut the switch off, than usually the siren will go off when you cross the wires. Now, find a piece of rubber shaped something like this—. That would be an end on view. In each side of the rubber, embed the wires of the cord so they are close but not touching- a soldering iron works for this. Place the siren behind the john, and the little rubber piece under one of the little knobs that the toilet seat rests on. The idea here is that when wife sits down, her weight will push the 2 wires together, causing the siren to go off. Instant fun! The louder the siren, the better the scare. I did this to my mom when I was about 15. It was a hoot!
Well, admittedly, I’m not as good at schemeing as a large number of the other Dopers here, but you made me laugh too hard to pass this up.
For the daughter, all of the above suggestions are wonderful. Another idea is to leave her little notes in her lunch, saying things like “Daddy loves you” and whatnot.
Every day.
Until she’s 18.
When her friends come, make sure you tell as many funny stories about her childhood (trust me, you’ll have them), as you can, as well as some that you make up. Then, offer everybody there a round of juiceboxes, and start asking them akward questions.
As for your wife, I’ve got two words for you: cold feet. Chill em to a nice, absolute-zero-like temperature, then put them right up against hers for every night until she apologizes, or goes insane.
I did the cold feet thing yesterday. I went out to let the dog in bare feet before I went to bed. I went upstairs, and started to give the Mrs. a backrub. She groand in sleepy pleasure and then I leaned back and put my cold feet right on her back.
Needless to say, I din’t get a backrub (or anything else) last night.