i like mine pink and greasy
salmonella.
what a lovely sounding word.
rolls right off your tongue.
sal-mo-nel-la.
rawr.
sexy.
hey!
guess what's not sexy!
what salmonella does to your body.
for those of you who have endured it, i understand now.
for those who haven't, be warned.
it couldn't have anything less to do with salmon.
i picked up this darling parasite at work on Wednesday after ingesting a scrumptious piece of greasy, undercooked, off-white chicken.
my initial thoughts were "hey, that was pretty good."
pretty good indeed.
seven hours later, a scourge was born.
a great pestilence.
in my stomach.
the humanity.
i don't want to get too graphic here, but man oh man, this shit was fucking graphic.
and convieniently, the opening of the Plague Gates commencenced twenty minutes before i was scheduled to meet a young lady at a tavern for drinks. i actually had to pull my head out of the toilet and call the bar to tell her that i all of a sudden had food poisoning and wasn't going to make it; officially the lamest thing i've ever had to do in my life.
but lame phone calls were the least of my worries.
things got progressively unpleasant as the night wore on.
there was a point where i was vomiting with such force that both of my ears popped, making me dizzy and making the sounds i was making even louder inside my head. a moment later both of my feet cramped violently, gnarling into tight, useless little stumps of pain.
i was practically paralyzed by all this and had no choice but to lay down on the cold, rarely cleaned patch of floor next to the toilet that i like to call the Pube Graveyard.
this wasn't just an illness.
this was Satanic.
if ever a sniper's bullet were to pierce the walls of my apartment and lodge itself into my frontal lobe, i wanted it to be now.
somehow, i managed to live through the night.
but the past three days have been more of the same.
last night i was actually on the mend.
even had a few beers.
that was followed by what us doctors refer to as a Shitty Relapse.
today looks a little better.
i'm back on solids but things are still tremulous.
i've had my first cup of coffee in over 72 hours.
*singing* "feels like the first time...."
but i'm wary of what tonight will bring.
do i hit the town and risk shitting myself in public?
or do i stay home in my room? again.
slowly counting the hairs on my legs.
again.
what a lovely sounding word.
rolls right off your tongue.
sal-mo-nel-la.
rawr.
sexy.
hey!
guess what's not sexy!
what salmonella does to your body.
for those of you who have endured it, i understand now.
for those who haven't, be warned.
it couldn't have anything less to do with salmon.
i picked up this darling parasite at work on Wednesday after ingesting a scrumptious piece of greasy, undercooked, off-white chicken.
my initial thoughts were "hey, that was pretty good."
pretty good indeed.
seven hours later, a scourge was born.
a great pestilence.
in my stomach.
the humanity.
i don't want to get too graphic here, but man oh man, this shit was fucking graphic.
and convieniently, the opening of the Plague Gates commencenced twenty minutes before i was scheduled to meet a young lady at a tavern for drinks. i actually had to pull my head out of the toilet and call the bar to tell her that i all of a sudden had food poisoning and wasn't going to make it; officially the lamest thing i've ever had to do in my life.
but lame phone calls were the least of my worries.
things got progressively unpleasant as the night wore on.
there was a point where i was vomiting with such force that both of my ears popped, making me dizzy and making the sounds i was making even louder inside my head. a moment later both of my feet cramped violently, gnarling into tight, useless little stumps of pain.
i was practically paralyzed by all this and had no choice but to lay down on the cold, rarely cleaned patch of floor next to the toilet that i like to call the Pube Graveyard.
this wasn't just an illness.
this was Satanic.
if ever a sniper's bullet were to pierce the walls of my apartment and lodge itself into my frontal lobe, i wanted it to be now.
somehow, i managed to live through the night.
but the past three days have been more of the same.
last night i was actually on the mend.
even had a few beers.
that was followed by what us doctors refer to as a Shitty Relapse.
today looks a little better.
i'm back on solids but things are still tremulous.
i've had my first cup of coffee in over 72 hours.
*singing* "feels like the first time...."
but i'm wary of what tonight will bring.
do i hit the town and risk shitting myself in public?
or do i stay home in my room? again.
slowly counting the hairs on my legs.
again.
posted by mike | 1:45 PM
3 Comments:
Ahhh, shitty deal mike, pun intentional.
But ive tread that road. Never trust the army when it gives you dinner in a foil bag labeled "Steak, Salisberry, One"
Cause running around the woods playing soldier is hard enough, but doing when your on the constant verge of shitting yourself, is so much more... exhilarating.
Hope your guts are feelin better cuz, and come out west, well cook ya some good food.
i say risk it. its for the best. however... i'm not much of a risk taker. i wouldn't if i were you. but i also contradict myself a lot. you might regret doing either.
thank you all for your concerns and kindish words; the scourge had passed and i'm back to my regular coffee/beer schedule. also: i did not shit myself at the bar on Saturday, as we all thought i would. so yay for me.
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