Uncontrollable motorhomes, everyone...

Hey all,
It's been awhile and I wish I could explain. The sad truth is that my blog sugar level is dangerously low, leaving me with Norwegian canoine fever and a reverse diarrhoea headache... I can hradly see the keybaoad. Actaually, this is the fifth time I 've tried writing to you guys, knowing you are really my main disease freedom fighters of my body. Whenever there is an infections and I scrame into the blackness, you guys always seem happy to get suiteed up and lead my infection-fighting army of the body to protect me from falling sick.

With your infections, another thing that's been hard for me is the virtual takeover of the cell.

My dirty cell-partner is the one who invites vermin, disease and sings. He cannot be tolerated. Our mouths are too precious to let a Viking put the crud or roaches.

The diseases are actually hiding under the skin!

Necrotizing fasciitis, better known as flesh-eating disease, blames death on the jail's negligence. It turns out that a girlfriend of the jail, who was serving desserts at the jail, died from flesh-eating disease a month later, shortly after her concert signing, where she sang 'Nana Moussecurry is Ghost' and 'Papa Wimbleton do not Eat Us'. As she sang, her mouth ate from the inside and a thousand songs were swallowed in an instant. The Vikings led the parade of vermin at her funeral, each with their own grimace or sneer, where they each placed an awkward flower in her mouth.