Lactose Intolerant

I just went to the doctor recently and I found out that I’m lactose intolerant to people who are lactose intolerant. I have a lactose intolerant intolerance. They’re always complaining about things they can’t eat and dragging me into their world without milk and cheese and happiness.

“Oh I can’t eat that or I’ll have gas and a stomach ache all night.”

Then why don’t you not eat or drink the foods that you can’t eat or drink and leave me out of it?!

“Why would you say such a thing? Right when my Restless Leg Syndrome is acting up!”

Are you kidding me?! That’s a thing? That can’t be real, not to the point that it’s a syndrome. I have no idea what constitutes a syndrome, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little more serious than some wiggly legs I can tell you that much. I can’t see people pouring into emergency rooms yelling and screaming about how wiggly their legs are. The doctor would just say, “Well that’s good if the legs wiggle. If they stop wiggling, that is a problem. Come and see me then. Bring help you’ll need it.”

Pharmaceutical companies are just now making things up to sell the cure for it.

“If their legs wiggle, give them this blue pill.”

“What if they ask questions?”

“I don’t know. Show them a cartoon of a butterfly or something.”

Ok. Maybe they’re real, but just extremely exaggerated. Like how many people in Africa are lactose intolerant? None. Not a single person over there is. They can tolerate all the lactose we can pump into them. We’re up to our necks in it, they’re begging for it.

Of course the humorous thing about this is that I have ADD and my dad thinks that it is a made up disorder. I take medicine for it to help me stay focused; he thinks it’s a waste of time and something that can be resolved with a “swift kick in the [bottom.]” I always tell him that I have a hard time focusing and I need to take it; he says that I need to “quit worrying about the dagum blog and work on [my] book learnin’s.”

Boy that shut me up.


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