WARNING: THIS LIVERJOURNAL ENTRY IS NOT FOR CHILDREN OR THE WEAK OF STOMACH.
Man, being sick sucks. It really really sucks.
(ASIDE:)Ya see, last night I went to the Bridge-Way Diner (one of my favorite local restaurants), and had my usual--an OBPD (a cheeseburger) and a cup of chicken noodle soup. It's good stuff, no matter how sick I get afterwards.(end ASIDE)
Somehow, it seems that I'm not able to finish my delightful delicacy of a dinner. Which makes sense, as I had a hot dog, fries, and a Coke for lunch. But as the hours go on into the night, I come to the conclusion that my stomach really fucking hurts. Like, it's in pain on the verge of nausea. My Dad doesn't have any Tums, so I get to consume Liquichalk (or, in medical terms, Maalox). And it tastes exactly like my name might suggest--liquid chalk.
(ASIDE:) So, I play some Star Wars: Battlefront from my PS2 demo disc. Damn, this is one kick-ass game. It's like SOCOM meets Star Wars. And you can play as either a Rebel soldier or an Empire soldier. Being the good, good boy I am, I usually play as a Rebel. (end ASIDE)
Eventually, my stomach turns to strictly nausea. If I lay in my bed on my side, it grumbles. If I lay on my back, it tries to claw its way through my body. So, I'm awake until 3:00 AM.
At which point, I feel a tenseness in my chin-neck area. Now, I've thrown up many a time in my life (including twelve times in one night before I took the SATs for the first time (and I think it's pretty cool that I got an 880 overall on them after throwing up twelve times)). And right before it starts, I can't move my jaw. It's tense. I furiously throw the covers off, and run (yes, Danielle, I ran) to the bathroom. I slide on my knees to the toilet, rest my head on the comfy seat and BAM! My chunks are blown for fifteen minutes.
So, usually after I throw up, I feel much better. Which I did. So I get to sleep, finally, mad about the fact that if I go to school, I'll only have like two-point-five hours of sleep. Not good for a history presentation.
So 6 AM comes, and my dad wakes me up, asks how I feel. I say that I have to go anyway because I have to present my history thing. I get up, and go to the bathroom. And I realize that I'm nauseous again. "Screw it," I says to meself, and I tell my Dad that I don't want to go. So, I get back into the bed, and sleep on and off until around 9:30. I take a shower, and when I get out, I get (GASP) tense in my chin-neck-area. This time I'm ready. I kneel down over the toilet, put my head on the comfy soft seat, and BAM! I vomit again. I feel good again, and I get dressed etc.
My parents leave for work around 11 or so, and I take a nap. And DAMN did I nap--until about two in the afternoon. After watching two episodes of "Dilbert" and an old Christmas special of "Boy Meets World" (which I only watched cause there was nothing else on), I call my mom at work. She tells me that I can't eat anything all day, until she gets home around 8. I'm confined to flat soda and water. Oh well...
I napped again until around 4, and then found out about homework and such. And now, here I am.
(ASIDE:)Ya see, last night I went to the Bridge-Way Diner (one of my favorite local restaurants), and had my usual--an OBPD (a cheeseburger) and a cup of chicken noodle soup. It's good stuff, no matter how sick I get afterwards.(end ASIDE)
Somehow, it seems that I'm not able to finish my delightful delicacy of a dinner. Which makes sense, as I had a hot dog, fries, and a Coke for lunch. But as the hours go on into the night, I come to the conclusion that my stomach really fucking hurts. Like, it's in pain on the verge of nausea. My Dad doesn't have any Tums, so I get to consume Liquichalk (or, in medical terms, Maalox). And it tastes exactly like my name might suggest--liquid chalk.
(ASIDE:) So, I play some Star Wars: Battlefront from my PS2 demo disc. Damn, this is one kick-ass game. It's like SOCOM meets Star Wars. And you can play as either a Rebel soldier or an Empire soldier. Being the good, good boy I am, I usually play as a Rebel. (end ASIDE)
Eventually, my stomach turns to strictly nausea. If I lay in my bed on my side, it grumbles. If I lay on my back, it tries to claw its way through my body. So, I'm awake until 3:00 AM.
At which point, I feel a tenseness in my chin-neck area. Now, I've thrown up many a time in my life (including twelve times in one night before I took the SATs for the first time (and I think it's pretty cool that I got an 880 overall on them after throwing up twelve times)). And right before it starts, I can't move my jaw. It's tense. I furiously throw the covers off, and run (yes, Danielle, I ran) to the bathroom. I slide on my knees to the toilet, rest my head on the comfy seat and BAM! My chunks are blown for fifteen minutes.
So, usually after I throw up, I feel much better. Which I did. So I get to sleep, finally, mad about the fact that if I go to school, I'll only have like two-point-five hours of sleep. Not good for a history presentation.
So 6 AM comes, and my dad wakes me up, asks how I feel. I say that I have to go anyway because I have to present my history thing. I get up, and go to the bathroom. And I realize that I'm nauseous again. "Screw it," I says to meself, and I tell my Dad that I don't want to go. So, I get back into the bed, and sleep on and off until around 9:30. I take a shower, and when I get out, I get (GASP) tense in my chin-neck-area. This time I'm ready. I kneel down over the toilet, put my head on the comfy soft seat, and BAM! I vomit again. I feel good again, and I get dressed etc.
My parents leave for work around 11 or so, and I take a nap. And DAMN did I nap--until about two in the afternoon. After watching two episodes of "Dilbert" and an old Christmas special of "Boy Meets World" (which I only watched cause there was nothing else on), I call my mom at work. She tells me that I can't eat anything all day, until she gets home around 8. I'm confined to flat soda and water. Oh well...
I napped again until around 4, and then found out about homework and such. And now, here I am.