Yeah I know what you are thinking. You are thinking “Ohh…the simpleton has put up a post an entire month since the last one! It is going to be special!”. Well….
There are a lot of things I hate. Disappointing people is one of them.
I also hate the fact that after many years of playing the lottery, and actually winning £10 last night I got excited. Until I thought about how many kidneys I could have bought with the money I have spent to actually get that £10. And sure, I already have 2 working kidneys, but I want more. They look fun. And they are interesting. I once had dinner with a kidney. Well OK, it was a person who had kidneys. But about half way through the meal all I could think about was ripping her damn kidneys out. She was fun. You know, in that “I want to rip your kidneys out and eat them because it will be more interesting than hearing about your new epilator.” And while on that subject. An epilator? A device used to literally grab big chunks of hair and rip them from the root up right out of your body. And this is dinner talk? Why didn’t she just say “I pulled chunks of pubic hair out with my bare hands. And no lube. I now have an awesome rash! But at least I am not as hairy as a Sasquatch anymore. Wanna look?” instead of giving me detailed information while I am trying to eat my steak? But that was a long time ago. And the therapy worked. Kind of. I still have a slight twitch. And it sure as hell ain’t in the trouser department when I think about her.
But I fear you think I am moaning. So I will move on. And moan about something else.
I hate pilates adverts. There is one on the TV at the moment while I am writing this. A woman lost loads of weight just by doing pilates. The ad shows clearly that she did by the fact that in her before pic, she is wearing a baggy T-Shirt and no makeup. Oooh…you chunky munky! A BAGGY T-SHIRT! Wild. Just….wild.
But most of all, I hate throwing up. And this is where the post gets a little more graphic. But you were expecting that.
A few weeks back I ate something I shouldn’t of. No, I didn’t go all Dr Lecter and eat that girls kidneys. I ate a sausage that had been in a fridge for a week…that had the door left slightly ajar. So the fridge was a little less fridge and a little more bacteria fest. So said sausage had been breeding like a spring time bunny on those little blue tablets that you may have received unsolicited mail about once or twice in life. And speed. And there are some reeeeally slutty girl bunnies about who are more interested in putting it out than cleaning up the little bunny droplets they produce. And Mr Speed driven blue tablet boy is seeing all those fluffy tails and is really not thinking about his job as a construction worker, and is instead bounding about with an impressively hard…..hang on…why the hell am I talking about bunnies with erections? Lets get back to the sausage. Oh. Yeah I see that now.
So. This sausage. It was a little on the funky side. But that is OK because I was a few beers in when I ate it, and so my taste buds had no idea what was passing over them in to the intestinal tract where all hell was about to break loose.
It didn’t right away. It took a few hours. But I knew. I knew something was brewing by the “ohhh…I don’t feel right..” comments I was making to my wife who said “I am pregnant. I have my own issues. Suck it up you weak feeble idiot and go get me some milkshake”. She had a point.
A few hours later I decided that going to bed was the order of the day. So I planned ahead. I cleared a path out of the room. I left the toilet seat up. The light on. The door open. The traffic lights were set to stay on green. And then it happened.
I didn’t even get that warning you get where you think “OK, I have about 15 seconds…” and you can get moving. It hit me like a surprise kick in the nuts. It all happened in slow motion, while going at the speed of light.
Reaction 1 – Get out of bed. Reaction 2 – Cover mouth with hand. Reaction 3 – Run. Like the bloody wind.
About half way to the toilet, the size of my mouth to cubic capacity of stomach contents managed to become imbalanced. The contents overtook my mouth size with a venom. It was starting to seep out from between my fingers. Game over. As I reached the door to the bathroom, I started the process of moving my hand away. What came next was projectile vomiting that reached such a distance that North Korea has approached me about about supplying the technology to transport their warheads. From the edge of the bathroom, I actually managed to get it INTO the toilet. Yeah. I know. Impressive huh! What isn’t so impressive is that I also covered the floor. Cabinet. Bath. Sink. My clothes. My hair. The cat.
Why was the cat in there! Did he not get the memo I sent out warning of an imminent event happening in the toilet?
About 20 seconds after I had completely emptied my stomach, I stood back to see the carnage. Eyes weeping and puke dribbling down my chin and out of my nose. About that time my wife appeared and said “The floor cleaner and sponge is in the second draw down” and wandered back off to bed. So on my hands and knees I got and started the clean up operation.
The cat was last seen licking itself clean. Looking a little confused that although it tastes and even looks like bits of sausage, something isn’t right.
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