ILL

So- I haven’t felt too hot for the past several days. Slowly but surely, that gut-rot began to set in, and not only did I feel like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen, but I had gas that could put down a buffalo.
This morning –the nausea reared its ugly head. I tried to make it in to work, but was forced to abandon my mission when my body went on “strike.” It let me know I should have stayed in bed…..by lurching forward….sending vomit all over my windshield.
HOLY SHIT!!!
It had to be the most terrifying moment of my fucking life! As we all know, all muscle control goes bye-bye in mid puke! Yeah- try that at 65mph on the highway.
Now- fast forward to a half hour later. I am forced to patron the local “PrimaCare.” If you have not been in such a facility, it’s sort of the Radio Shack of healthcare. After being ushered into the little room, and asked to sit on the concrete table, I was left to my nausea. Until…….
Yup, round two was about to start. I went into panic mode! I jumped from the table, and headed for that tiny sink in the corner. But, upon first step I realized that I was past the point of no return. The only option left was the little steel trashcan with the foot peddle.
THE CAN WINS!
With one fluid motion, I slammed my foot down on the peddle, and grabbed each side of the rim.
BLARRRUGAHHHRUGHHHAAA!!!! (it’s a tile room, thus it was like a fucking bomb going off)
Suddenly (and this is the kicker) a nurse plows through the door. I am there, still twitching, with drool coming out of my mouth. I turn to her with watery eyes, and she says………yup, you guessed it: “ARE YOU ALRIGHT??!!!”

I hate Radio Shack

FU