This Post Is About Barf

I’m not dead, but I kind of wish I were.

Last night I had to work. While I was working, I started to feel really, really horrible. And then I barfed. A lot. On the one hand, I’m glad I made it to the bathroom and didn’t barf in front of twenty college students, but on the other hand I’ve been stressing out that I smelled barfy when I went back to get my bag so I could leave. Maybe that’s a silly thing to stress out about – it’s not like I could help it – but I’m still worried.

In the last eighteen hours I’ve had nothing but about ten crackers and some Gatorade. I tried ginger ale last night but the bubbles made me barf. I’ve also only been to the bathroom for non-vomit-related purposes once in the last eighteen hours, which means I’m probably pretty dehydrated, so that’s no good. I know you’re glad I shared that.

My house is dirty and I haven’t done laundry in over a week and I haven’t been to the grocery store in longer, so I guess it’s a good thing that I can only keep down crackers and Gatorade at the moment, since that’s about all I have on hand.

Blah. This sucks.

6 Replies to “This Post Is About Barf”

  1. sorry, but I’ve got to interupt my reading to point out that I first read the start of the first paragraph, “And then I barfed, a lot on the one hand.”

    Okay. I’m going back to reading now.

  2. okay now, I’m done.

    I hope you get well soon and yadda yadda {{{*hugs*}}} and all that positive cheery stuff.

    I should say that your fears of others picking up on “barfy” breath or whathaveyou are probably baseless. …unless you kissed them each good-bye.

    did you kiss them each good-bye? Please say you did.

  3. blah – here’s to hoping you feel a lot better. keep ingesting those liquids. and as a side note, i once did barf on my own hand. and once on my camp counsellor’s shoes; and once on someone else’s hand – true story. you’re not alone.

  4. My own side note is that once, when I was seven, I barfed on the guy next to me. Not on purpose. I was in one of those tilt-a-whirl rides at the fair. The ride wound up, the floor dropped out from beneath us and the centrifugal force whipped it from my mouth and planted it on the guy’s chest next to me. He was tall – luckily. That could have been ever grosser than it was.

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