or (in the style of paul anka) throwing up is hard to do.
or oh, dear lord.
got either food poisoning or a “24-hour flu” as my mom used to say. i have an extreme vomit phobia, so i don’t really throw up too fucking often. if we were drinking, and you needed to choach, don’t fucking come to me to hold your hair. if *i* was drinking and thought i was going to cack, i’d go lay down by the toilet and just biofeedback that shit out.
and i really do mean that. i can breathe a lot of shit away. it’s pretty remarkable, all told. lots of people don’t mind puking, think it makes them feel better, don’t have an issue with it. i can’t fucking stand it one bit. around 2 am on friday night, after i had come home from a party, i started to feel nauseated. i thought it was my meds and staying up too late.
went to bed, woke up nauseated. really nauseated. until 1 pm, i managed to force things to go the other way. that’s normally my style, anyway. but i finally gave a good puke/wretch at 1 pm. i kind of wondered if i should have done that from the beginning, but for all the times i went to the bathroom (and there was plenty of floor laying there, too), i think i just would have thrown up a shit ton.
but yeah, i missed this cool halloween party i wanted to go to on saturday. and then sunday, i was still fucking wrecked/weak/eating saltines and drinking ginger ale. yipes. i still felt shitty today, weak wise, and then i thought … hmm. maybe i can use this as a detox and be careful what i eat from now on. nope. went to IHOP like a schmuck.
on the other hand, we went to the tattoo parlor to get my friend’s cartilage pierced again, and the guy there gave me a great fucking idea about saving change in a big water bottle. that’ll be my tattoo money. sweet.
okay. that’s all. great fucking post. i swear i’ll try to be more about it … especially if i’m going to try and do the november writing thing.