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We found 3 result(s) that match your search "pigs":

I had a very curious and unexpected conversation at work recently. An amusing person that I work with, who I'll refer to as "The Random Talker", will pour out mouthfuls of directionless information at the drop of a hat. I'm talking about a totally un-sequestered menagerie of anomalous comments. This time, however, something struck home with me and we had a more meaningful, if not still awkward conversation.
Random: "Sometimes I get really angry and confused when I don't eat enough"
Me: "Oh really, I know the feeling,"
Random: "I become hypoglycemic, but I bet you don't know what that is, do you?"
Me- (Sounding like a know it all): "Ya, your blood sugar drops, and you can get sweaty, hungry, nervous, jittery, not a good feeling" (READ MORE)

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Lieutenant Frog Skin, Lieutenant Seaweed , grab a helmet, a rifle and fall in. We strike at dawn.
Just when I was starting to worry that a cure was very, very far off, I just received word from the battlefields that these two brave new recruits have joined the ranks in the fight against diabetes. But fear not. They are not alone. Broken into platoons via category, our army looks like this:
Foods: grapes, brown rice, pumpkins, honey, black tea, red wine, bitter melon
Animals: pigs, lizard spit, mice, frog skin
Plants: seaweed wrap, doob (aka common green grass)
All fighting diabetes. We should be fine.
As promised, here is the last of the diabetes Mad Libs entries. This one comes from Penny. (READ MORE)

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I touched the top of my forehead and felt the sudden wetness of perspiration as I walked down the stairs. My head felt light and loose as if it dangled from a marionette string. Strange. It wasn't hot in the house. I felt an overwhelming feeling of tingly ickiness throughout my whole body as I stood there sweating and vibrating and wanting to quickly get to the nearest chair.
I've tested Charlie's blood sugar thousands of times, but doing my own felt awkward as I searched for the right angle. After some difficulty, I managed to squeeze a drop of blood from my finger and scoop up enough for a reading. Sure enough, I was 66. (READ MORE)

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