It’s been at least six years since I last made an offering to the porcelain alter. I’ve got a cast-iron gasket for the most part, but even I’m no match for a fucking stomach virus. The problem with not puking on a somewhat regular basis is that you become very bad at reading the warning signs. The swirling gut and heartburn I could easily ignore, but it was the violent shaking that alerted me to move my ass to a linoleum lined environment pronto, or I’d have the unpleasant task of scrubbing berber carpet while feeling like ass.
Damn, but I hate being sick. Especially the post vomit mouth rinse, when you’re desperately trying to get rid of all the chunks caught between your teeth and gums without touching them with your tongue. *blech*
Oh, and mealy upchucked wine? Let’s just say I won’t be ordering a sangria margarita anytime soon.
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You really tickled Jeff with your post title. Who knows, if we can get you to keep posting maybe we can even drag Jeff into the fold. He's almost there. He's actually voiced that he might/maybe should start a blog. It shouldn't be too long till we can drag him into it.
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