After 7 or 8 twice-an-hour visits to Dr. Flushy McBowlface, over which I excavated every last scrap from the half-a-pizza I ate for suppah, I managed to sleep for several hours. Then I hallucinated for several more hours (my illness was a city descending into sectarian violence, my stomach a road to the stars), tried to take a shower, barfed again
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Comments 5
Isn't that a Harlan Ellison story title? Or maybe Samuel Delany?
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Hey, what did I tell you about rice and boiled meats!?!?!? (well, ok, I didn't tell you till this morning, but still...)
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I'm sippin chicken broth now and hoping I'll be able to keep it down.
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Hope you feel better.
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