Top 5 Funks

Aight.

I said "What Was I Thinking?" was next, but there has been a change in plans. I thought it enjoyable to reminisce about all those times in my life that I've really felt like crap...in doing so, I realize how blessed I am. On average, I only deal with something about once or twice a year.

On top of that, people often ask what I do for a living. Well, I don't know if it's a living, but I get paid for it...I write a lot of articles that often have a "Top 10" or "Top 5" in the title. So. Here they are (and if you feel you remember a time when I was worse than one of these, please remind me). James and His Top 5 Funks.

#5 - Right Now.

February 25th, 2008 - February ??, 200? Let's get this one over with shall we? It started with the son getting the flu last week. We all avoided it. During the Oscar's, however, 75% of our household got nailed with the hackiest cough and cold/flu I have ever experienced. I RARELY get a fever, and last night, I turned our bed into a water bed when that sucker broke at 2:45 a.m. According to my sweet wife, I sat up in my sleep and said, "That's awesome! That's just awesome!" When asked what I was dreaming about, I replied, "A chocolate race car!" That's what you get for watching Chocolat while entering the 5th stage of delirium. (Great flic by the way.) So, for everything this funk has done to our household, the fact that we're now at 100%, a perfect 4 for 4, and especially the fact that it's February 27th, and 83 degrees outside, this unnamed funk takes the honor of #5.

#4 - Young James Lives in an Oxygen Tent

I don't really remember this one. Well, I don't remember the sickness...the oxygen tent, however, is one of my earliest memories. I didn't breathe well as a young'n, and due to some bronchial asthma, my parents took me to the hospital claiming that I wasn't breathing well. A nurse, clearly over-qualified to deal with such nonsense, sent my parents home. I guess it wasn't much later that I began to resemble a blueberry. The folks took me back to the hospital, the doctor was called in, and from what I've been told, ripped the nurse a new one!! Seriously! Don't you KNOW who I am? (If you all could hit that page at least once a day, that'd be awesome for me...) Digressing, I lived in a tent, just like John Travolta in The Boy in The Plastic Bubble.

#3 - Cough = Crap

Worst flu I ever had. I can't recall my age, but I had to be between 7 - 10 years old. Everytime I coughed...I crapped. Simple as that. Yeah, think about that one for a second, and you'll thank your heavenly Father the next time you cough and nothing comes out.

#2 - August Non-Survivor 1994

In the midst of our August 2-a days, aka football practice, I contracted a little something funky. You never want to miss a practice, and especially during August. If you do, then you're not a true "August Survivor." No sport ever thrashed my fitness level, and I was ALWAYS up for the challenge...especially the summer before my senior year. However, one night after practice, with maybe 4 days left in the 2-a day schedule...and about a pound of shared M&Ms and "too much" Fruit Punch Gatorade later...I was owned by viral attack... ...my yack smelled like chocolate and strawberries. Needless to say, no August surviving for me.

#1 - Spring 1995 - The Perfect (Puke) Storm

My folks blew town for a few days, and I remember my brother going with them...we had Friday and Monday off from school. I stuck around for a track meet being hosted that Friday afternoon in Bolivar, Missouri, and my track team was dominant, so there was no way I was missing a meet. My Dad left a note with instructions about a guy coming to fix (or replace) our hot water heater, and that if I needed water, there were several jugs in the refrigerator...if there was an emergency, or I had to turn the water on, the main valve was out in the yard.

Friday afternoon I could tell that I wasn't feeling it during the meet. I attributed my woes to fatigue or a poor performance day, yet didn't realize that my weekend was soon to become the weekend from hell. I dined on corn-dogs after my events (you can see where this is going), and proceeded to plan my stellar weekend with the boys...in fact, I didn't plan on setting foot in our household after grabbing a few clean clothes that night after the meet. By the time I got home, I felt like the walking dead. I remember rolling up the driveway in my 1987 Ford Escort GT, thinking, "I don't feel so great." I called a couple friends to let them know that I was feeling funky, but would come over around midnight after I had time to chill and watch some TV. I dozed off in my parents bedroom watching the tube, and just as planned, popped up right around midnight. No, I wasn't ready to go play...I knew that feeling...welling in my stomach...dashing across their bedroom and into the bathroom for a LAUNCH that would make the space program jealous! I made it to the toilet. Whew. When I came up for a breath, the second wave was waiting for me unexpectedly, and I yacked across the vanity mirror, counter and maybe even got a little into the sink. In fact, there's a good chance that my spew got more distance than I did earlier that day in the Long Jump.

I immediately felt better, although too weak to do anything but lie on the bathroom floor and moan..."Uhhhh. Uhhhhh. Uhhhhh this sucks I'm never eating corn dogs again...Uhhhh." About 15 minutes later, I got up in an effort to clean off the sink and mirror. Have you ever seen a chunk of hot dog stuck to a mirror? Such a thing cannot wait 'til morning. So, I turn on the faucet to get two little shots of water and air. "Please, God, no." All I could think of were my friends having the greatest of times less than a 5 minute drive away...and I'm staring at puke on my parent's mirror with no tangible way out of my predicament. I knew the toilet was good for one flush, so I took a moral victory in that and moved on to a new plan.

I picked up the phone, and called to the party..."Can someone come help me?" Fortunately, Chris Garner (aka G-Funk, and a forever friend), said he would come over to do the things that great friends do...sacrifice. By the time he made it over, I had used the jugs of water to clean the sink and mirror....even busting out the Windex at 1:00 a.m. So, I handed him a pair of pliers and asked him to go outside and turn the water back on (after all, this WAS an emergency), and he attempted to do so with no reluctance. Someone else was there helping Chris, but I can't remember who it was...maybe Tony Lounsberry (another forever friend)...and then things got really strange. After a few minutes, G-Funk comes back in, telling me, "There's a dead body down there." I was so delirious, I didn't even argue. "Ok, I'll check it out tomorrow." Chris hung out for awhile...at least until I felt better...although his view of the murderous Sheldon family had probably changed drastically. Flash forward to the next afternoon, and I found the dead body...some might have called it insulation packed into a 30 gallon trash bag, but "dead body," certainly sounded a whole lot cooler.