The Old Heave-Ho

At Least I Didn't Miss The Trash Can...

Wow. I haven't puked like that since I was barely out of my teens and still learning to drink whiskey...

I know, great way to start a blogpost, huh?

This past weekend was one I'd just as soon forget. I had a great time Friday night playing poker with the usual crew, and even came out a few bux ahead. The next day, I had a brief bout of the Tijuana Two-step, but it was nothing a couple of Imodiums wouldn't cure.

Saturday evening I had some pizza & pasta courtesy of Pizza Hut, and a bedtime snack of two finger's worth of Baker's 107 proof bourbon over ice. I went to bed feeling relaxed and quite at one with the world.

3 a.m. rolled around, and it was quite a different matter. For the next 12 hours, it was a gastro-intestinal thrill ride.

First, the cold sweats!

Then, the fever burn!

Next, the twisted gut cramps!

Finally, the esophageal eruption! Yay!!!

For the record, I frickin' HATE to dry heave... Seems like a good ab workout, though.

I made it through to the downhill side of the episode Sunday evening, along with another dose of the trots. (OK, TMI there, but if I had to suffer, you can too!)

I was out of work Monday, just resting up from all the drama. I still don't know what I ingested that set all that off, but I ditched the leftover pizza and have been living on Diet Rite soda and Pepto-Bismol for the time being.

So, anyone want to come scrub out a trash can?