Well, we ate OG last night and since then I’ve had endless gastrointestinal gymnastics.
I’m not saying it was food poisoning because it was just Christmas which means I’m visiting everyone and interviewing thousands of new germs to see what might be the best fit to cripple my post-travel immune system.
But it might have been.
While waiting to get sick, we sat in the waiting area. This guy on the wall offered us an ice cream. Or a whipped cream cup. Or some kind of liquor shot adulterated with heavy cream. Since the walls of his shop seem to be made from ice cream cones I think that’s a safe bet for what he’s pushing.
But why is the sundae cup so narrow? It’s perversely thin. I want more ice cream than that. That seems like an unreasonable ratio of whipped cream to ice cream. I want more cream than cream!
Beneath the shining bells are chocolates or other truffles, I think, judging from the labels in front of them. Ring bells for dessert. That I’m okay with.
Yeah, food seemed fine, nothing unusual.
Just feeling like garbage 24 hours hence. And this blog is about telling the truth. And the truth is–I’m not living a healthy or sustainable lifestyle.
What’s sad is it was probably these stupid vegetables that did me in.
1: linguini and five-cheese marinara and crispy chicken
2: just more linguini
Breadsticks: 2 (?)
Weight: 167 (160 in non-Christmas pounds)
Bathroom breaks: too many