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T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o

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Sick of Being Sick

2006-12-21† Ė† 9:52 p.m.
Well, well, well. Welcome to my little cave in the northeast wing of my parents' house. Iím holed up here with the door closed, requesting that bottled water or ginger ale be rolled through a crack in the door while its sender holds his or her breath. All communications are to occur through a closed door. And if you hear me scrambling to open the door, be warned that youíd better not be in the bathroom.

My sisterís beautiful children have unleashed their amoebas on me, resulting in more puke than I can remember ever ejecting. Every 45 minutes, all night long, there was a major gushing. I couldnít help but laugh between the heaves and pitiful sobs because I know that my family thinks thereís nothing funnier than that noise someone makes as the first wave comes up. Luckily all of those assholes were sleeping while I did my spewing.

If the bathroom wasnít Kyle-ified, Iíd have slept on the cool tile in there instead of making a mad dash from a dead sleep the moment I tasted the pre-puke bile.

Poooooor me. Pooooor, pooooor me.

After an entire day spent sleeping in my sisterís childhood room, Iím finally starting to feel alive. I made a point to pick up the room since the cleared path to the door was starting to annoy me during my frequent trips to the bathroom. Everythingís now in order, and Iím starting to eye a box of Wheat Thins, dangerously aware that eating is just asking for it to be up-chucked.

Iím going to tempt fate. I hope both of our nights are nice and quiet. †



Miss something?

Moving Day - 2008-02-15
Working from Home is Glorious - 2008-02-13
Speaking in Tongues - 2008-02-07
I Have My Reasons - 2008-01-25
Got an Itch, Fix it, Shine it Up, Sing it Out - 2008-01-23

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