(no subject)
I may have had to miss a trip to SF due to awful stomach flu. My internal plumbing may be a little messed up; things coming out a different way than they went in, or coming back the way they came in but with great force, or a tiny team of mules kicking me painfully from inside my lower GI, etc.
I may have sat here for fifteen fucking minutes, my dehydrated brain desperately trying to build a phrase that strikes to the heart of Flu Philosophy: Is it in fact possible to shit your brains out? (If so, what is driving my central nervous system right this moment? Will my stomach ever complete it's herculean task of revmoving everything including itself from my body, one stubborn organ at a time? Tune in next week!)
All of these things may in fact be true. But I can at least say this: No one has put shit in my pants. Yet.
I may have sat here for fifteen fucking minutes, my dehydrated brain desperately trying to build a phrase that strikes to the heart of Flu Philosophy: Is it in fact possible to shit your brains out? (If so, what is driving my central nervous system right this moment? Will my stomach ever complete it's herculean task of revmoving everything including itself from my body, one stubborn organ at a time? Tune in next week!)
All of these things may in fact be true. But I can at least say this: No one has put shit in my pants. Yet.