Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Pepto Bismol is my friend

Once again I have defied my own circular self-logic and perplexed the few people I've mentioned my latest brilliant brainstrom to. I've even been called an idiot, which was completely unnecessary since I've riddled myself with similar insults then took myself shopping to make it up to me.

Due to health issues that I will one-day put down into text, when the stories of my recent past don't make me scream primal on the inside and mentally tear at my own skin, I struggle on a daily basis to feel semi half way hopefully maybe let's not put a large bet on it adequate. I certainly don't have it as bad as lots and lots of people sharing this big floating bean, but deal with my own shite enough for 2 lifetimes.

In the event that I have a moment, or blessed be all living things, a whole day where I feel pretty darn good, I'm compelled to celebrate. This does not equate to a fucking parade, although every princess needs at least one, but can be a special purchase at a favorite retail establishment, a tasty treat, or best of all my worlds, both. And this is precisely what I decided to do last Sunday.

I'd been woken up early the morning before, at 4 fucking 48 to be exact, by what sounded like a jet-liner crashing into my roof. When I peeled myself off the ceiling and waited until the windows stopped shaking out of their frames, I put some clothes on and took a peek outside. Apparently southern Cal was getting a quick and violent lightning storm usually reserved for those square states in the middle. It was so amazingly loud it shook my house to the foundation and set off several car alarms in the neighborhood. Then the heavens opened up and poured forth the thickest, heaviest rain I can remember ever seeing. For a whole 4 minutes. Then stopped like God turned off the faucet. Weird.

After the rude awakening that soared my blood pressure to about 300 over 90, I was sure my energy reserves for the weekend would have been depleted without resurrection and with all the running around I usually do on a Saturday I'm usally a worthless sot the next day. But to my delight, I woke up on Sunday feeling refreshed and pretty damn good. I puttered around a bit then really got to work. Cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning. Laundry, puttering, cleaning. By noon I thought I was pushing the envelope but still felt good. I took a looooooong hot shower, which usually puts me into a soapy coma, but again, still felt good. I decided to take care of some chores at the mall, thinking for sure I'd lose my mojo by 3:00.

To my shopping surprise, 3 o'clock came and went and I was still going strong. I was a little energizer bunny with a Visa. As I wrote about previously, my best friend and I were making our way through the throngs of pre-Christmas assholes and we decided to hit the food court for a snack. I wasn't very hungry, another miracle of the day, but wanted something to munch on. And here's where my usual sketchy logic completely goes out the window. Not that I can't spin anything as deftly as politician, but even this was a bad move of epic proportions.

As I was scanning the plethora of choices, my eyes settled on an establishment that would offer my golden craving of cravings. Oh happy day! An edible treat not often found. One that must be sought out, battling strollers and beer bellied men seeking the greasy fried goodness of the food of the gods. I'm talking about cheese fries. And not crap fake cheese fries served by lesser grub stands. These are the thick cut soaked in peanut oil skins left on with the savory divine liquid cheese product steaming with hot fromage benevolence poured all over the top. The basket so drenched and heavy with taters and sauce that you need a fork to eat it.

And of course I paired this monstrosity with a diet coke. I'm not a total pig.

This was a mistake. A big, big mistake. Why couldn't I have enjoyed my good day by taking a nap? Buying those cute shoes I squealed over? Enjoying a decaf mocha over ice with 4 Equal? Noooooo, I had to ingest the equivalent of a motor-oil milkshake. And to make matters worse, later that night I piled a bowl of pasta on top of what was now the churning, boiling filth eating the entire lining of my intestines with fearless abandon. And I was none the wiser. Until last night...

Somewhere around 4:15 things were feeling slightly amiss. With the risk of pulling an over-share here, I warn you that some details are forthcoming, but I do this as a favor. I'm your warning. I'm you're example of what not to do. Heed this omen my friends, for I'm saving you and your digestive tract from a fate not wished on my darkest enemies. Well, maybe that one chick, but the rest shouldn't have to experience the panic in my pants I did last night.

I ducked out of work around the same time Mount Vesuvius was preparing to make her first appearance. Just as I was reaching the stop sign outside our buildings my stomach churned and what felt like a roller coaster plunging down a record-breaking height sped through my guts. Uh oh, back to work. This was a good decision. I thought all was well and proceeded to run some errands, get my neck cracked and head off to pick up a few sundries in preparation for the holiday this weekend.

While cruising the store with treasures in tow, another rumble hit me down to my core literally lurching me forward. Oh christ, this is not good. There was a battle brewing and I didn't have much time. Luckily I know this store inside and out and made a mad dash to the bathroom praying that all stalls would be empty and I wouldn't have to face anyone in person after what I can only predict will be a visit to el bano similar to that infamous scene in Dumb and Dumber.

I was not wrong. I was relieved, pun intended, to see all stall doors ajar confirming that I was indeed alone. I made a quick eyeballing sweep of potential feet just to make sure. I made a bee-line to the handicap stall, because I was feeling quite impaired at the moment and needed the pseudo-privacy. I even had time to secure an ass-gasket over the porcelain. Just when the cacophony of those cheese fries made their re-appearance I heard the restroom door creak open and footsteps patter towards my door. And that's when I realized not only could I not stop the inevitable, but I hadn't fully depressed the fucking locking mechanism on the fucking door!!

It was hanging by a virtual thread and it was a good 3 feet out of my reach. I immediately felt my face flush crimson and sweat formed over my brow. I was already holding my breath in anxiety riddled antipation and now my eyes were beggning to lose focus. Please oh please oh please oh please let this be over quickly, or may left-over lightning from the weekend find the top of my stupid grape and split it in two before I'm caught red-assed in the bathroom of a semi-discount retail store.

Thankfully the karma train took an alternate track and did not run my dumb ass over. A few loud coughs and timing my exit accordingly afforded me the least amount of added embarrassment. Although the woman washing her hands refused to look my direction, but I could be paranoid. My stomach gave a few extra warning rumbles but didn't act up much any further. And I enjoyed a refreshing dinner of 2 swigs directly out of the Pepto bottle.

When you're 37, have a history of a questionable to very bad stomach, have battled a serious health issue, and make poor food choices on a daily basis, please, I implore you, do not eat cheese fries from the mall. Ever. Again.

3 comments:

whitey said...

Motor Oil Milksshake...awesome! There's nothing like a shit story, baby and that's a good 'un.

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