I’m going to put an end to any fears you may have while reading this: what you are about to hear (assuming you talk to yourself as you read) is going to sound a lot worse than it actually is.

Last week, Kaylee contracted an illness called Fifth Disease.  Now, here the point where you’re probably panicking: “did he say disease?!  Oh no!  The sky is falling!”  No, it’s just a virus.  And a weak one, at that.  It was named around 1880, and was given that moniker because it was the fifth common childhood “disease” on the list.  And, clearly, it wasn’t severe enough to actually be called something unique, like most of the other ailments on the list.

Fifth is caused by the Parvovirus B19 strain.  For anyone familiar with Parvo, you’re probably immediately thinking “dog.”  The difference between the Parvo that infects dogs and the one that infects humans is in that “B19″ part of the name.  So, no, Kaylee did not catch the Guatamalan Canine Flu.  What she caught is more closely related to measles or rubella, only far less so.  And it’s related to Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease, but only very indirectly.  To put to rest any fears you may have, let me put it this way: Parvo is to the other illnesses listed her as spitball is to ballistic missile.

Symptoms of Fifth are:

• Mild fever
• Sniffles
• A bright red rash on the cheeks, generally only present in children
• A splotchy rash over the rest of the body, similar in appearance to the illnesses listed above
• Joint pain, primarily present only in adults
• Itching on the rash, generally only in people older than 10

At this point, you’re wondering how she could have been exposed to a virus that causes an illness you’ve probably never heard of unless you are a parent and your kid has had it.  Well, chances are you’ve been exposed to it — by adulthood, 60 percent of us have been exposed to it, caught it and become immune.  It’s not exactly a rare virus.

She started showing the rash Friday (10/10), the day after her physical and a vaccination she still needed to be caught up on.  So, I figured it was a minor reaction to the vaccine, and just kept a close watch on it.  Aside from some redness, she had no problems — not even an itch.  Red cheeks and a few splotches on her arms, and that’s it.  But by Saturday it had spread over the entirety of her arms and was creeping across her back.  I had Nurse Neighbor come take a look, and we then proceeded to research.  A quick google of “red splotches on a toddler’s arms and cheeks” immediately brought me to Fifth/Parvo.  When I saw the symptoms, I remember that Kaylee had a runny nose most of the week, and that her temp had gone up ever so slightly Wednesday night — so slightly that I didn’t even bother checking to get the actual number.

I also remembered another symptom I had seen in her: Thursday night, after the physical, she was complaining about knee pain.  I figured it was from the injection, which was in her thigh — sore muscles from a shot.

Sunday, the rash got even worse, but she still wasn’t itching.  Now, the good part of all this is that, once the rash appears, the illness is no longer contagious.  Double-Plus-Good for me (any George Orwell readers remember where that came from?).  Of course, I figured there was no way on God’s Green Earth that she’d be allowed in school looking like that, even if I told them no one would catch it.  And, of course, I still was only basing the diagnosis off of things I found on the Interwebs.  So, a quick trip to the doctor Monday morning confirmed my diagnosis, and she was back to school, none the worse for wear.  All is well with her world.

But not mine.

Remember that “60 percent of adults are immune” comment?  Well, it would seem that I’m in the minority.

At first I thought it was just heat.  After all, I’d been in the office/studio/gameroom writing and recording a song.  That’s the hottest room in the house, especially with a computer, a printer and recording equipment running.  But, eventually, I came to the realization (after a closer look the next day revealed red splotches on my arms that continued to grow as the day progressed) that I, too, was pleading the Fifth.  Or, more correctly, Scratching the Fifth.  I’ve got the itch and the need to scratch it.  Everywhere.  Constantly.  It actually woke me up at least five times last night.

So, give me another three or four days before you call me or text me or even talk face-to-face with me about anything that may be annoying.  Because, given how annoyed I am at the moment with this itching, I may just have to give you a serious beat-down.

It doesn't take an historian to do the date math necessary to come to the conclusion that InvertedMind's 27th birthday was so miserable that it violated the laws of physics (i.e., it both sucked and blew at the same time).  If you don't know why, just go read the posts between July 31st and September 30th of 2007 — it will become quite obvious.

Keeping that in mind, and not being one to pass up a chance to Party Again Before I'm 30™, I'm getting together with some neighbors with whom I share August, and we're having a barbecue.  While I can't invite all of you (I may not have a very large readership, but it's big enough to render my back yard and wallet both useless if I was to attempt to house all of you), I selfishly encourage you to either send me well-wishes on August 14th, or — better yet, for me at least — send me gifts.  I like gifts.  A lot.

To that end, I have a recommendation: I would greatly appreciate it if someone would send me 1,400 hours of entertainment in MP3 format on 21 CDs — the entire series of CBS Radio Mystery Theater, purchasable for a mere $49.99.  I found a number of these episodes (fewer than two percent, I would wager) via LimeWire before I knew the collection was for sale.  Seeing as how I've downloaded enough music in my life to keep me in jail until I've returned to dust I don't encourage breaking the law, I'd like to eliminate a small section of my eventual incarceration make good on my downloads.

Your cooperation on this matter is greatly appreciated. 

Apparently, all that time on beautiful beaches has fried their brains.

A Bahamian jury determined that Anna Nicole Smith's son died as a result of an accidental drug overdoes.   The kick in the crotch here is that a jury was responsible for determining "fact" regardless of what was actually documented by a coroner.  Clearly, what is fact and what is fiction now requires the deliberation of our peers, rather than hard scientific evidence.  Pretty soon, a medical examiner's decision that a person is dead will be overturned by a jury — even with the person six feet under.  "Nope, Bob is still alive, by a vote of 11 to one."  Mark my words.

Well, I'm not back with a vengeance yet, but I'm back.  And I had no choice: when you come across something this funny on the Internet (of which I estimate I've seen about 87.6224 percent of, not including the porn, because that would put me at less than one percent), you have to share it.  This is proof that not only did these people go with the lowest bidder when finding a window contractor, but they also chose one with a lazy eye.

Let's get this straight right off the bat: InvertedMind is not accusing Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael "Ron Mexico" Vick of being a member of al Qaeda.

South Carolina inmate #40948-018 beat me to it.

Mike Vick is a number of things.  First of all, he's a thorn in the side of society.  He's nothing more than a pimple on the face of Liberty, but he most certainly is cruel to dogs.  And probably to kitties.  He's also an insult to the good name of the NFL quarterback position.  I would imagine he probably cooked ants with a magnifying glass as a child (or maybe even last week, if he is really as bad as his reputation would have us believe).

But in a lawsuit filed July 23 with the U.S. District Court in Richmond, the aforementioned inmate stopped just short of blaming Vick for Global Warming.  I won't spoil the rest, though.  See the entirely hand-written filing for yourself. 

Sometimes you see, hear or read about something that absolutely must be shared with the world.  It becomes your moral, social and spiritual obligation to enlighten the rest of the population.

Here in North Carolina, we pick up a great morning radio show called the John-Boy & Billy Show.  If you haven’t heard them, you need to.

Today on the show, they asked a trivia question with what I feel is a very obvious answer: “This American Corporate icon can be recognized by more people in the world than the Christian Cross.”  The parts in bold are the things you need to make sure you absolutely understand, and continue to understand, because the first answer that someone gave may make you dumber, and you don’t want to forget the right answer after you hear this.

A man from Springfield, Georgia, responded with, “it’s the swashtika…uh…swastik…uh…that Russian symbol.”

There is so much wrong with that, I couldn’t even begin to imagine where to start.  However, it was my obligation to tell you about it, in order to prevent you, too, from confusing the symbol of the German Nazi party with that of the Golden Arches of McDonald’s.

I really didn’t know where to put this — Mindless Ramblings, or La-La Land — so I just put it in both.

Her Cuteness has spent the majority of the day cranky. Well, that doesn’t quite cover it. Let’s just say that if she was a dragon, I’d be living in a pile of ashes by now.

This morning, I took her for a walk around the block. Usually she sleeps really well after a walk, and she was due for a nap. Boy, was she ever due for a nap. When we got back, I put her down and took a shower so I could go for a haircut. She was still stirring when I left, but she was quiet. And Her Hotness was trying to catch a few extra winks in our room. I don’t know why, because Her Cuteness let us sleep in today. I didn’t even have to get up until 8:07!

When I got home, Her Hotness was in the guest bedroom, and it turned out that Her Cuteness had just recently fallen asleep. This was an hour after I had left, and almost 90 minutes after I first laid her down. I regret now that I didn’t see this as a harbinger of the doom to come today.

It wasn’t a bad early afternoon.  Her Cuteness slept until about 12:45, and she had lunch around 1:00.  Ahh, an hour of peace.

By mid-afternoon she was clearly not in a good mood.  The problem was that it was way too early to put her to bed, but way too late to give her a second nap.  So we tried to give her a banana for a snack.  We should have taken this is the second indication that it would go no where but further downhill as the afternoon and evening progressed:

Note: This is why I repeatedly ask Her Hotness to be blunt with me.  It’s exactly for situations like this.  It’s because I can hear your words just fine (assuming you talk loud enough to my slightly bad ears these days), but I can’t read signs to save my life.  If you asked me to read your tea leaves, I’d probably tell you, “it’s Earl Grey.”  And that’s just because it’s the first type of tea that comes to mind.

All day long I had been cooking ribs.  The one thing I know about cooking those things is that you have to do it ssssllloooooowwwwwwwlllllyyyyyyyy.  If you don’t have a smoker, here’s what you do: throw them into your crock pot, preferably with some sort of dry rub.  I have a homemade one I use, and I moistened the meat with terriyaki sauce.  Cook it for about four hours on high, then turn it down to low for about 15 minutes (to suck the juices back into the meat).  Then, throw them onto a 500-degree grill with some barbecue sauce to get a good sear on the meat.  I bought two and a half pounds of meat for less than a half rack would cost at any decent restaurant, and it was just as tender and tasty.

I mention that because it was the only — the only — moment of serenity I had after about 3:00 p.m.

I won’t go into any more details, because it’s all a bunch of mush in my head at this point.  The bottom line is that we lais her down before 7:00 because she was so tired that she had no idea why she was even crying.  She then proceeded to cry for no reason for another two hours.

And then Dale Earnhardt, Jr. got caught in a wreck he had nothing to do with.  It’s been a real friggin’ fun night.

Case in point: the highlight of the evening, aside from the ribs, was watching Kevin James (I bet you wondered how he fit into this whole thing) give the command to start engines at this evening’s NASCAR race.  For anyone who saw Matthew McConnaughey give the command at the 2006 Daytona 500, let’s just say that Kevin James just removed ol’ Matt’s manhood tonight.  If there was any more testosterone in his command, he would have spontaneously grown a Z.Z. Top beard, right there on television.

In other news, we bought an ice cream maker this week, and made two batches last night.  Her Hotness made a roasted pecan and toasted coconut concoction that is really good.  And I hate coconut.  I made what I can only call “Caramel Latte.”  Coffee-flavored ice cream with a heavy caramel overtone and a subtle chocolate note in the middle of each bite.  The only way I can describe it is “javalicious.”

Editor’s Note: Yet another new category. La-La Land is reserved for those things that are so ridiculous, outlandish or just plain weird that they simply need their own category.

It’s nice to know there are still people with senses of humor in this world. Or, at least, IT staff who forget to QA (Quality-Assure) new code before it makes it out to the Web. I’m not quite sure where the Atlanta Botanical Gardens falls, but this is just too good to pass up. The image below is an undoctored screenshot (made it myself) from their Donation Web site, showing a list of titles available for use (as in, “Mr.”, “Mrs.”, “Dr.”, etc.). I really can’t add anything to this to bump the level of humor up any higher than it already is.