H2 Oh no

Around three am I woke up to an ab infomercial, maybe it was the Crunchinator 5000, or the Crunchatron, or the Crunch, Crunch, Crunch-It-Upper. In any case, My guts were crunching too. Ahh. Arrr. I shouldn’t have had that second bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios: there are much more sophisticated ways to be masochistic than aggravating Hepatitis. (Long time readers of this blog may have been wondering why I hadn't left the house....).

So there I was, ahhh. Arrr. I can feel my abs crunching, and I’m not even doing anything! Ahh. Me too, it’s awful! Feel that burn? Isn’t that great Nancy? Oooff. Nooo.

Hot water, straight. After almost two weeks of feeling ill, I am a wizard at concocting remedies. They vary. From tepid to hot water. I sipped the water until I could guzzle it. My guts loosened. I pooed. Then I had to hurl. Which brings me finally, ha, to what I came to say:

Outside of the painful and repetitious heaving of bile, I hereby endorse throwing up. A lovely and effective treatment. One must always puke with aplomb. Throw up, breathe, clean up, leave. No sniveling and whimpering. No feeling sorry for yourself. You should feel sorry if you don’t hurl! Blow your nose, wash your face, brush your teeth. Sit down and feel like a crackerjack.

You may, for a moment after you retch, feel vulnerable and want to buy yourself the Crunchinator. But don’t do it. You won’t need it if you keep throwing up.