See, I had a wonderful weekend throwing a baby shower for my sister-in-law who is due with a bouncing baby girl next month. We had pink tulle, pink lemonade rimmed with pink sugar, pink rock candy, pink EVERYTHING. It was super fun.
But when I got home, all that pink, uh came back up. At first, I cursed my sister Padrin because she had made all the nomnom food, but quickly realized that it was not her fault. (Although, oddly enough, she was the only other person who was sick.) Anyways, despite the hilarity of such a pretty shade of upchuck, I was miserable.
I feel like I was drunk on throwing up. I called Geo in tears, begging him to come home and watch over me as I prayed to the porcelain gods, and then spent 20 minutes scrubbing my bathroom hoping to wash away whatever was making me sick. Sane, right?! Alas, no amount of scrubbing helped.
Approximately an hour into my involuntary bulimia, my roommate Andrew called upstairs "Hey, Pharon? You okay?" I responded, in my best Darth Vader voice, "I'm FINE. DON'T COME UP HERE!" And he's all "Well, it's obvious that you're sick, can I get you anything??"
"OH. MY. GOD. Can you guys HEAR me down there?!"
Yes, yes they could. Claire and Andrew were eating a lovely dinner, soundtracked by my ralphing. I was MORTIFIED. There is nothing worse than audibly alerting others to your violent nausea. It's embarrassing. At least in college, everyone was puking at some point. There were even friends there to hold your hair while you said things like "Why won't the bartender give me goldschlager? Why does he hate me? My hair hurts. Let's go dance on the bar..." Whatevs, I digress.
Anyway, about 3 hours into my battle with concentrated evil, I thought "Hey Trooper, buck up. Think about how much weight you'll lose!" And that seemed to calmed me down for a while. Also, by this point Andrew and Claire were fast asleep so I was left to puke in peace.
But I made it through, guys. I pulled through like a CHAMP. Yes, I cried and begged for my mommy. And YES, I may have wrapped my blankie around my shoulders and moaned while sitting on the bathroom floor. And so WHAT if I sat reading The Hunger Games during the infrequent lulls and wished for Katniss' life? The point is, I made it. And I'm
So, sorry about the brief break, dudes, but as you can see, I was pretty busy.