Friday, May 20, 2005

A New Low.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse...

Well, Tuesday's rejection from New York finally came through to me and I got wasted last night. W-A-S-T-E-D. On the train home, I started getting sick from the vibrations--I've never been bothered by motion sickness before; this was certainly unique. Had to get out at Sheridan. Crawled on the platform to the purple line side and yakked. Got back on the train, went 2 stops, had to get off. Wandered into traffic to get a cab; cabbie was worried about me vomiting in the car, so naturally, since he was African, I started yelling at him in French. Because naturally all Africans speak Parisian. He was upset at me, but whatever; not like he hasn't escaped worse. Or maybe he was Haitian. Who cares. Anyway.

Got home. Started calling EVERYONE. Thanks so much to Pooky who actually tolerated my 3 or 4 phone calls and my slobbering blubbing and hysteria about how my life is so miserable. Special accolades to Eekie for tolerating me moaning about how I want to die and never wake up again. And ChewSlime; thank you so much for hanging up when I passed out talking to you. :)

Woke up this morning, phone 3 inches from my head; I'd not moved, the bed was still made; I doubt if I turned at all. The phone beeped, ALARMINGLY loud, and I realized that I missed several calls and didn't even hear them.

Today my chest is hurting from my vomiting. How do bulimics do it? They must have spectacular vomiting muscles. I don't know how to work those out; I'm such a slacker. (!) "Betty, your vomiting muscles need toning..."

AND, freakishly, I woke up with no head hangover, just a bit of belly queasy, fixed rapidly by the introduction of medicine; McD's really needs to advertize their hashbrowns as medicine.

And that was that.

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