Monday, February 7

Eggs are lil bombs that implode in my stomach...

Friday we were running late. Not surprising since I was already feeling sluggish from the beginning of spring/beginning of my allergy assault. (No, I don't take Claritin. Yes, I know I could but I choose to complain instead. Making my own problems by hand, everyday!) Anyway, I'm dreading having to leave my cozy bed complete with black furry love muffin kitty at my feet but I know that I can beat through this day. (I have a serious issue with not realizing my limitations and then blaming myself when I can't do everything perfect even with a 101 degree fever. These problems -- handmade, baby!) So we leave -- late. And I'm hungry cause my dreary allergy hazed self thought about breakfast but didn't really_think_about it. And all that sounds good right now is a Sausage McBiscuit from McD's but since Jourdan just had his 6-month review and got dinged for being late, I don't want to cause him any trouble. I'll just eat at the MU. Get a bagel, some milk, some food poisoning..maybe.

But I'm really craving that Sausage McBiscuit crack. I mean really. Like I can taste the fat, gooey sausage patty in my mouth and I want it. So I figure MU has got to have something with meat and bread. So I look..and I see the lil Mexican stand and I think "Hey...they have a grill..maybe??" And they do..they have fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon bits (not the processed salad type -- though at this point..I can't say no), and potato looking stuff. Oooh and a tortilla!'s no Sausage McBiscuit but it looks like it might curb me til lunch (screw the fact it's my day's worth of WW points!).

So I get one that's prepared and it feels warm enough so I'm blissfully happy now. I have food, I've dropped off our month-old netflix videos (so that no stupid human can steal them -- in theory) and I'm headed back to work -- but I'm not there yet. First bite is good, second is okay and by the time I get half through I'm just not digging this burrito. So I toss it (oh I'll be tossing it for the next few days!) And a little bit later I don't feel better. Usually by 10 my allergies will lift until about 5 p.m. when they start round two. But here I am at 11 feeling rather icky. Ickier than this morning. I'm figuring my allergies are in for the long haul and since I don't really work much anyway, husband takes me home. Boss tells me stories of how her children are much sicker when they are sick..which seems like never..but when they are..they do a better job. (Mental note: die at work as to be sicker than boss' kids.)

So we get home and right there at the edge of the bed is a lil lazy black love muffin and we curl up to sleep, and sleep, and sleep. I wake up at 5 p.m. and my stomach feels crappy, really crappy...but I'm figuring it's sinus drainage. Darn allergies! HA HA! But no! This sick stomach, gassy feeling keeps me up until 5 A.M. when I finally pass out from tiredness and wake up 4 hours later. I'm sick at my stomach_still_. It's like this balloon of nasty air is filling and expanding my lil digestion sack and some lil bomb is stuck to the floor. Some heavy scrambled egg BOMB! Course I don't know it's food poisoning..I still am thinking allergies. (I'm not bright people) So I sleep..or at least try to..but can't. And so goes until my husband finally asks why I'm burbing more than usual (Note: It took him practically ALL day of listening to me burb nasty foul rotting egg gas before it became "more than usual" -- I am SUCH a lady). Dr. Jourdan makes the brave and correct assumption that I don't have allergies, I have poisoned myself with lil egg bombs. And what I need is water and lots of it.

(Side note: I hate water. I detest water. I would rather drink blood than water. Not that I'm a vampire but I'm pale enough to be Goth anytime I want. But as I was rambling I seriously hate water and IF I were a vampire, water would be my sunlight.)

So the idea of water isn't too appealing and I say no, thanks. But Dr. Jourdan knows since that he has been poisoned him with raw meat pot pies that water it must be. So he brings in part of the Atlantic Ocean, bottled by Arrowhead, and tells me.."drink." So I do while I'm eating some rice. The rice goes down easy in fact everything does except that innocent, clear, crystal water. It hits the egg bombs like, well a bomb. And I double over in pain. "Drink more" I hear and I'm thinking "Are you nuts? I'm not worth that much insurance money..c'mon." But he's got that I'll shove that bottle down your throat look so I drink a fourth of the Atlantic and cringe and cry as the egg bombs meat their match. Rinse and repeat for the next 24 hours.

Sunday afternoon I smell like sweat, my breath is foul (and after burping for hours on end I am a new expert on all that is foul), and I feel better. Not well since I still have the shakes but better. I have indeed made it out the other side and life is freaking good!

So today I'm at work and I'm not happy (I'm at work...what'd you expect) but I'm not suffering from lil nuclear egg sabotage so I'm feeling FUCKING FANTASTIC. And that's what I learned this weekend, everything (even a sucky job) is better after you've been poisoned. I highly suggest eating at questionable restaurants before going through with attempted suicide -- it might change your mind. It might not but at least it'll give you a "thinking" period which you hug your new porcelin best friend. So all in all the place to eat where I work did try to kill me, but it didn't succeed because if anything here is going to take me out -- it's going to be the management.


Anonymous Bob said...

My mother would probably agree.

10:43 AM  

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