Mount St. Helens, Krakatoa, and Montezuma's Revenge...

Well good morning kiddies!! How the heck is everyone today? Better than your old pal Bobby B, I hope? Now, before you get your panties all in a bunch(or briefs, or Spiderman Underoos), let me explain. I'm not in really bad shape, just a wee bit under the weather. You see, I seem to have eaten something in the last couple of days that simply does not agree with some or all of my internal organs. Most notably, my stomach, and my intestines. Allow me to start at the beginning...

It all started(I think. I haven't had forensics in checking this out, but I can reasonably deduce that this is the cause...), on Saturday evening. I, along with room mates, and assorted girlfriend types, took a short trip to a nearby pub to watch the Maple Leafs/Canadiens game. Now, at this particular pub, they have a very nice spinach and artichoke dip, which I have eaten on many occasions with no apparent ill effects.

Alas, I believe I have eaten my last serving of said dish. As tasty as it is, it's just not worth the abdominal workout that was to follow.

You see, everything seemed to be going swimmingly, except that the Leafs were losing, but the dip seemed fine, and we were all having a jolly old time. Even at the end of the night, everything seemed peachy keen. The problems started the following morning.

When I awoke, I was hungry, but for some reason I had no interest in eating. So I didn't. I did, however, feel the need to relieve a certain pressure in my lower abdominal area. Without getting into detail, let's just say that things required less effort than usual. I chalked this up to a couple of nights of beer drinking. No red flags yet.

Now, as is the tradition in my family, I eventually meandered to my parents' house to partake of their Sunday newspaper, and yummy home cooking. Seeing as how I hadn't eaten all day, I was ravenous. Felt like I could eat an entire pot roast to myself. Unfortunately, mom made chicken.

I loaded up my plate with the usual servings, and proceeded to hoss it all down at my usual pace. Which is pretty quick. I don't get a lot of home cooked meals. But about halfway into the meal, I already felt like I had eaten the entire chicken, never mind only half a plate full. I was so full I couldn't even eat any dessert, instead headed straight for the couch.

I spent the next three hours on the couch, watching tv, and trying to keep my insides, well, inside. At this point I decided to go home. The comfort of my own bed.

Well, I almost made it.

I got about three steps into my bedroom, before my stomach decided to re-create Krakatoa. I had to run. Fast.

Let me tell you, I can't remember the last time I puked from anything other than an overindulgence at the bar. And I also don't remember being able to puke so FAR. I think I could have stood in the doorway and still hit the target.

Oh, on a side note. I do not desire to vomit up mashed potatos again any time soon.

So, thus emptied, I spent the night trying to sleep, and not doing a very good job of it. All I have eaten so far today is a piece of toast, and some apple juice.

Oh, well, I hate Mondays anyways, I might just as well spend it in my comfy pants, watching movies on tv, and trying not to erupt on the couch.

Oh yeah, Happy 35th Anniversary to my parents today!