What Goes Down Must Come Up

Normally, I do not discuss my own bowel movements or other defacatory processes. Jethro's are up for grabs (in the literary sense), but I'm a lady and ladies do not take dumps. At least until two days ago. I ate some bad edamame. Edamame are soybeans the Japanese cover in salt and eat like a snack. Very nutritious except for the ebola virus.

I came home and was pretty hungry having skipped lunch. So I boiled some frozen edamame, salted it and ate it by the fistful. Pretty soon thereafter, I started feeling sick and nauseous. Then I started vomiting, and then I started vomiting from another direction. I had to go pick up Emma, but every time I tried to leave, I had to throw up or go poo. Finally, I had to call my sister-in-law to go get her. Gwennie had never seen me sick like that so she was kind of frantically running around and begging me not to throw up on her. I told her to stay out of the way and I wouldn't, but I think I did a little bit. When I'd finally thrown up everything I had eaten from three weeks back, it quit and I felt light years better.

But the saddest part of this entire story is that while I was in the middle of turning my asshole inside out, I was thinking, "Should I blog about this?"