So essentially the last 2 1/2 days of my life have been a veritable hell...It all started when the wife says "I made your favorite for dinner"...Naturally, my response was "Burrito!"...."No...The OTHER one..."...."Meatball Parm Sub?!?"...."It's Beef Stroganoff"..."Oh...Yeah...That sounds good."
6 hours later it is 2 AM and I'm awakened by that queasy feeling..."F*ck...It's all coming up...B*tch poisoned me." So I do my thing...Lose a lot...Feel better for about 20 minutes...Sitting on the couch and round 2 comes....Comes like a f*cking cheetah mind you...
So I start my mad dash of, oh, roughly 20 feet from front room to bathroom...but it's too late...Try to use the hand as a shield...Not a good plan...Sh*t's now all over my hand, face from backsplash and pretty much a huge trail across my house. The poisoning heathen has finally adjusted from her slumber...Conveniently timed at the point that I dirtied her precious little house....So I'm catching sh*t for not puking in the toilet and getting it all over the house while I'm hunkered over the bowl...Sh*t's coming out with such force that some of it has found a way to lodge itself in my nasal cavity...which later I am trying to hulk-flem out, which only produces more gag reflex and vomiting...
Eventually it subsides, 5 1/2 hours and a "I'll be buying us new throw rugs tomorrow on your dime pal" later....Haven't been able to eat straight for 2 1/2 days regardless....Been scrutinizing anything that comes remotely near me that is edible like it is an arab at an airport in Missouri...
I should have known honestly...You don't mix two evils like communist russia and a wife and expect good things in the aftermath.
This would have never happened if it was a burrito.