I god dam mastered the art of duo orifice explosion. It all began on Thursday morning.........
About 10 minutes before my alarm was due to go off, my body woke me up. I had a wanky gut ache & the alarm bells started to holla at a bitch that if she didn't hot foot it to the lav quick smart she was gonna shit the bed. I made it just in time. And it gave me a fright because although my bowels have at times been unpredictable, I don't get bugs.
I decided that it was only a minor case of the shits so I may as well go to work. Cue onslaught of violent diarrhoea. In between showering, putting my outside face on, getting dressed ecetera. Finally making it out of the door on time, with a typical kiwi attitude (she'll be right mate) in tow.
I get to work & explode once more. This was going to be a long ass day. Except this time I was starting to feel a bit vommy too. Fuck it.
I ring my boss & give him the heads up. Basically telling him that I would prefer to shame myself within the walls of my own home as the idea of exploding out my back end while power yakking out my face at work didn't really seem like a fun time. He agreed & said I could go on home.
I had to get a taxi home because Blake was working & couldn't come get me.
I carefully placed my sick body inside a taxi & made it clear to the driver that I get home quick smart. I was afraid yo. I didn't know how long I had until I blew again.
About 200 metres from my house, my mouth started to water & I felt my breath quicken, beads of sweat appeared on my forehead & that old familiar, I is gona yak feeling, was a rising on up my esophageal pipe. Fuck. A. Bitch. I was about to spew (& more than likely shit my pants) in a taxi.
I turned to the driver with my hand over my mouth & said to him, 'I'm about to throw some money in your face & run like the wind. You don't want me in your car'. By this stage we'd made it to the forecourt of the motel where I live & I did just that. I threw money at him & bolted. Ass cheeks clenched like my life depended on it, hand over mouth, running like a muthafucka across the courtyard while curious guests watched on.
As I got closer to our apartment I could hear the shower running. Fuck. Blake was in the shower.
Before I go on, I need you to know something. For as long as we've know each other, Blake & I have never dropped a grogan while the other has been in the bathroom doing something else. Blake won't have any of it. If I need to shit while he's in the shower. I wait. If I need to pee, not a problem. But he draws the line at poo. I have always respected this request. Even though there have been times when I desperately needed to disrespect it.
I roar inside at a hundred miles an hour, remove my cardi & shoes (I have no idea why I did that?), rip open the bathroom door & screamed at Blake 'GET OUT OF THE SHOWER NOW, I AM GOING TO SHIT MYSELF!!!!!'.
To which he replied 'Baby just do it'.
And then me, in an absolute blind panic, 'I'M GOING TO SPEW AS WELL!!!!'.
With that he was out of the shower, wet & soapy, adjourning to the safety of the lounge. Me, I was de-troued, slamming my ass down onto the toilet & emptying the contents out of the small plastic rubbish bin ready to catch what was about to come up my gullet. And boy did I go off. It was bloody horrible!!
Blake bravely poked his head in the door after everything subsided to see if I was ok. He said I looked so sad sitting there on the toilet with my pants on the ground & mascara smeared all around my eyes. He also said it sounded like a demon was trying to invade my body with all the noise that was coming from the bathroom. I was fucking sad yo. I hadn't had a stomach bug in 15 years..
I take great pride in making snide remarks at basically all my friends who have kids that always seems to be sick with the latest stomach bug doing the rounds. Blake & I never get bugs. Well that was up until now.
The shit/yak fest continued on for another 6 hours. By 3pm I was angry, exhausted & 3kg lighter (Hurrah!). Then I slept for about 15 hours. I was so friggin hot. You could have fried a dozen eggs on my gluteus maximus. Blake kept checking on me to make sure I was still conscious.
I woke up when my alarm went off yesterday morning & decided seeing as I hadn't shat or vomited in a while I would be fine to go to work. I mean I sit at an office desk all day long. How hard could that be?
Very fucking hard, I clearly sucked at life yesterday. I spent majority of the day with my head on my desk. I felt like a washed out old rag. No energy, & I had a crankin headache. I think with all the vomming I must have busted a couple of blood vessels in my head cos god dam I couldn't shake it. My stomach gurgled loudly & angrily ALL day. I wanted to feed it but I was too afraid of what might happen if I did.
Fast forward to Saturday morning & I feel remarkably better. But still a little bit off. I am sitting up on the couch watching the food Network channel in my PJ's & I'm a bit mad at myself because I just bought a Shark Steam Cleaner off shopping channel. Fuck me, seriously. Their infomercial won me over. And if this bitch actually does what it claims to then I will be happy & less guilty for spending a weeks wages.
Blake hasn't got the bug yet but he is going to shit himself when he finds out I just bought this. Boo. However, when he does go apeshit & does the 'disappointed in my rebellious wife' face, I have saved the link for the website so he can read the product reviews. People are lovin' this machine. Plus we won't need any cleaning chemicals in our house anymore which appeals to our inner hippies son! And at least I didn't buy an actual Shark.
So while you were all having your Thanksgiving celebrations, or my fellow Ho's from this side of the world were just nailing an average Thursday, I was giving thanks to soft toilet paper & a husband that still loves me when clearly my body had chucked this shitshow in. Oh & I am thankful for my Shark Steam Pocket that will soon be arriving at my house.
Thanksgiving or not, what are you thankful for today?
Peace & fizzy bung holes,
P.S Mike someone, my lovely personal trainer, rang me on Thursday night to ask me where I was & why I hadn't been to the gym. Much to his disgust I proceeded to tell him exactly why I'd been a no show & he happily accepted the excuse. I love not having to lie to him!!
P.P.S As of 8:35am Saturday morning I am still 3kgs lighter. Awesome!!