Ok, so I was sick. Really sick. Strep throat, a cold, slept a lot, woke up, slept some more, doctor, penicillin, feeling fine, yada yada yada. (And thank you for the well wishes.) But I'm so bored with talking about it. I would much rather talk about my most favorite subject ever: stupid people.

I am huge fan of the summer Olympics. Huge. I love the summer games. I love the pomp, the spectacle. I love the idea of the Olympic truce. I love the iconic images. Oh, the images! I can see perfectly in my mind Cathy Freeman kissing her medal in Sydney, Michael Johnson setting a world record in golden shoes in Atlanta, Mary Decker falling in Los Angeles, Tommie Smith's black glove in Mexico City. Joy, triumph, agony, controversy.

There is one image that will stick with me for all the wrong reasons. Have you seen the newly announced official logo of the 2012 London games?

Great gravy, what the fuck are they thinking? Are they going with a caveman theme? Who thought this was a good idea? Did the committee leave Pebbles Flintstone in charge that day?

A professional designer got paid a lot of money for that. Some of the "amateur" designs submitted to the BBC and to london2012.com are brilliant and inspired, and the committee chose that… thing?

Is it too late to give the games to New York? At least they had a good logo.

It sucks to be sick. I mean it really, outstandingly, phenomenally sucks to be sick. Streptococcus is not my friend. In fact, it is my enemy. Strep (we're on a first name basis now) is an evil, vile thing. Strep tried to kill me this weekend. I think it might have succeeded. I'm pretty sure I died sometime on Friday and was revived by the wondrous voodoo that is medicine.

Apparently Strep first came into our house hidden in the pocket of our niece, who will henceforth be referred to as "Typhoid Melissa." Typhoid Melissa was not symptomatic when she spent long amounts of time at our house last weekend. No… of course not. That sneaky little minx waited until days later to get sick.

On Thursday Bunny and I compared our then mild symptoms (headache, body aches, chills, fatigue, scratchy throat, swollen glands) and concluded we'd caught the plague. Bunny made it to the clinic that afternoon and was quickly diagnosed and medicated. I was working while the clinic was open, so I waited until the next morning.

Strep seemed to beat the shit out of me so much more than Bunny. So either a), that 15 hour window made a huge difference or b), I am a complete pussy. Or, you know… both. Either way, there are 36 hours between 10 p.m. Thursday and 10 a.m. Saturday and I probably slept 30 of them. Bunny, on the other hand, was almost completely functional. And it's a good thing too, because I died sometime on Friday.

I'm now absolutely convinced that zombies are real, because surely some supernatural force kept my body moving around after my death, taking hot baths and drinking water and such, while the supreme military might that is Penicillin slowly reclaimed the war-torn battleground that is my throat, thereby reanimating me sometime on Saturday morning.

My mother has what is possibly the weakest immune system known to man. She is a veteran of the Strep Throat wars. If ever anyone in the same zip code as her has Strep, my mother will also get Strep. I'm not exaggerating when I say that my mother has had Strep two or three times a year for as long as I can remember. She's probably had it thirty or forty times by now.

You might think this would increase my respect for my mother, knowing that she's endured this so many times before. If you thought that, you'd be wrong. My mother must be an even bigger pussy than I am. Her body should be expert at defeating Strep. She should be the Captain America of the Strep Throat wars. And I'm talking about the World War II Captain America, where he used to throw the pointy shield at Nazi's heads. None of that pantywaist round shield crap.

My mother should be Strep Kryptonite. Her immune system should be so strong, she should glow in the dark. She should be able to pass by sick people and heal them through her very presence. But she doesn't. She just keeps getting sick, several times a year, year after year. She's taken Penicillin so many times, she developed an allergy to it. And then she developed an allergy to Amoxicillin. And then she developed an allergy to Tetracycline and then to Keflex. My mother's anti-Strep medicine is now a rare concoction of newborn puppies and moon rocks. I'm thinking her immune system just lacks ambition.

However, I am in no way interested in using my own immune system to prove that point.