Somebody kill me please

I'm sick--possibly dying, even.

You know how when you're gorging yourself on food at a party, there is always that moment? It's the moment where you can either stop eating and feel pleasantly full, or you can take that One Last Bite and consign yourself to hours of gastrointestinal misery.

I took the One Last Bite.

It was a brownie bite covered in powdered sugar, supplied by Streets of Belfast at the clothing swap party (more to come on that later). And I'm sorry that I have to keep typing out "Streets of Belfast" but I realized that if I abbreviated it I would be casting serious doubts on my dear friend's gender, parentage, and personality. Maybe I'll start calling her "Streets." That sounds cool and hip an' stuff, right?

Anyway, I ate the brownie bite and have not been the same since. I dragged myself up from the couch to go to Cicada's house for perogis (sp?) because she was kind enough to invite me. They were these amazing dumpling things filled with (I'd better type this fast so as not to induce any kind of episode) mashed potatoes, onion, and cheese, and then you dump on sour cream and sauteed onions and bacon and eat them.

(ulpp--didn't type fast enough--clapping hand over mouth and running to bathroom)

Thanks for waiting.

She also made a beautiful strawberry-rhubarb pie, and I showed my first bit of common sense that night by politely abstaining. We then moved over to another friend's parent's house, which was very large and beautiful and also had a very nice bathroom. I spent a good portion of the evening in that bathroom, which I'm sure resulted in them closing off that wing for an indefinite amount of time.

And now I'm skipping out on church, which is not something I do, but every time I tried to out of bed, my stomach started w/the Greg Louganis-style twisting and flipping while I prayed for sweet death to take me.

I'm writing this from the living room. So far I've ingested a piece of dry toast, which happily has not made any kind of second appearance. I just flipped through this awesome wedding scrapbooks magazine that no one took home with them yesterday. One example page included a poem written by the groom to his love as part of the proposal.


An Engagement Poem

If you take this ring, someday we'll wed.
I can't wait for you to sleep in my bed.

Someday we will marry for time and eternity.
I will love you always, that's a certainty.

Well said, Ammen Harper. Well said.

Now excuse me while I go throw up my toast.


Unmanagable said... [reply]

I'm sorry your ill. For diarrhea over 24 hours, take some Loperamide. 4mg now and 2mg after each additional episode. Not To exceed 16 mg in a 24 hour period. That guys' poem was exceedingly retarded. Thankfully I have a caring family who would murder me before allowing me to let a bucket of emesis like that be published. By the way. Thank you dear sister for allowing me to be publicly recognized as kin. I'll try not to disappoint.

Desmama said... [reply]

So sorry. Sounds miserable. Bad poetry will induce vomiting, guaranteed. Heck, that poem almost made me nauseated and I was fine to begin with.

Nemesis said... [reply]

Thank you both for your kind thoughts. They gave me the strength to lift my head off the pillow. I even managed a feeble smile. :-} (See? There it is!)

Savvymom said... [reply]

I am sick too, you freak. I think it's all your fault. I've spent the last three hours with all the toilet seats up and the lights on, while walking around with a large bowl in my hand, since I have a new goal to NOT throw up on carpeted surfaces anymore.

Cicada said... [reply]

So how is it that I didn't eat the contaminated food? If Savvymom is sick, too, then I wouldn't think that this is an eating-the-last brownie problem. And it certainly isn't a Cicada's-perogis problem, since you were sick before coming and SM didn't come. Hmm. Not good. But at least you get to skip work and stuff, right? Right?

ambrosia ananas said... [reply]

I'm sorry you're sick. That's rotten.

daltongirl said... [reply]

I prescribe the BRAT diet: bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast. Eat this until you can hold something down (or in) for at least half a day. Then all will be well. Next time, call me before you take the last bite, and I will remind you of this experience.

Streets of Belfast said... [reply]

Thank you for protecting me from questions of gender, parentage, and personality. So sorry you are sick. I feel a little responsible in the manner of a drug lord who provides drugs to young things that don't know any better. I just want you to know that I will no longer support your habit.

Nemesis said... [reply]

Hi Streets. No worries, I don't think it was your fault that I got sick.

I do think that you poisoned your cat, though!

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