12-10-00
I'm beginning to suspect that food is the enemy of my digestive tract. After the pasta debaucle, I decided to wait a good 24 hours before attempting something solid again.
Wisely, I chose to 'have it my way' at BK with a couple of Junior Whoppers. Everything was going well until several hours later when I was sitting through the opening credits of Cecil B. Demented, and I started having excruciating, stabbing abdominal pain.
I sucked it up and suffered in silence through the movie because I was out with a friend to celebrate his birthday (which is today), but I decided to forgo any post-cinema revelries in favor of going home and being ill.
When I got home, I got to experience the unpleasant feeling of Whopper number one spraying out my ass in a liquidy slush. I went to bed to sleep if off, only to be awoken at 5:15am with the urgent need to set free the second Whopper.
Understandably, I'm a bit leery of eating something else for fear from where it will issue forth. I've stopped snotting, so conceivably I could shoot a ham 'n cheese sammich out my nose later today.
