Creepy Crawlies.

After my last bout with intestinal unpleasantness, my guts never quite returned to normal. They'd seem to swing widely from "well, that's unpleasant" to "that's unpleasant as well, just in a completely different way" and made all sorts of interesting noises that serenaded my wife to sleep every night.
  
My wife may have appreciated it, but it was getting a little old for me.
 
I'd never tried them before, but as I am a snake oil connoisseur if there is a remote chance that a given substance will make me pedal more betterer, I figured I would give probiotics a shot. They're in fancy bottles on the vitamin aisle, so they have to be good for you, right?
 
I did my customary dietary research on the subject, which is to say I glanced over a fluff piece Rodale rag reprint on the Bicycling site (probably titled "Flush Your Guts Like the Pros Do!") and then picked the bottle with the flashiest label with the biggest bug number on the shelf. From what I can tell, "pro" is short for "professional" and "biotics" means "bugs". If I'm going to have bugs crawling around in my guts, I want to make sure they're professionals. I want to have the best bugs. Spectacular bugs. Super-classy bugs. Trust me, you're going to love them, so much that you'll forget that Trump-speak references are starting to get a bit tired and will overlook my obvious use of them to fill blog space.


A day or so in, the endless "Thong Song" serenade from my intestines quieted. Things seemed to return to normal, which is to say they reverted to my usual state of "that doesn't sound all that healthy, but I guess if it works for you..." We'll see how I feel in 30 days, because that's how many pills I bought.
 
Professional bugs. I bet they're made of carbon.
 
 
 
 


  
 
  
 

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