Because I'm Addle Brained
I just ate a whole package of salt and honey covered peanuts and cashews. The whole package. The whole salt and honey and fat laden package.
I don't feel so good. The last time I felt this lousy after ingesting something it involved tequila and getting accidentally locked in the bathroom in a hotel in Williamsburg, Virginia.
posted by Dixie at 11:21 PM
5Comments:
Dixie writes:
"it involved tequila and getting accidentally locked in the bathroom in a hotel in Williamsburg, Virginia."
OK...surely you don't think you're gonna drop a tease like that and not be expected to provide pertinent details.
Come on, it's just between us - right? :)
*gag* we had kirmes here over the long weekend. that means I go, seek out those caramelised peanut/almond/whatevernut things and GORGE myself. then I chase that with candy apple.
I go home and sit there groaning, as I do every year that I've gone, and wonder WHY oh WHY I feel sooooo freakin' sick :o\
Every year I promise myself never to do that again.
Every year, I'm at the stand with the stupidest grin on my face with my arms outstretched. Awaiting the gift of "heart attack in a plastic Tüte"
*sigh*
and yeah, you better tell that locked in a loo story. I LOVE those kinds of stories. I'm already imagining all sort of crazy things lol
I have so been there. The worst is when they are not yours. Once my friend brought some back from the states and it was like aliens were compelling me to eat them all.
I hear ya on the over-consumption thing! I felt the same way after consuming a half pound of pistaschios. I had that oogy-not-so-good feeling right up until I finally crapped the things out. Ever see Marvin the Martian on those old Buggs Bunny cartoons? *IT* was THAT color... ugh!
Feel better soon!
Eh...the bathroom story ain't that great. My ex-husband and I used to go to Williamsburg for long weekends and one weekend while out to dinner I drank a ridiculous amount of tequila. Back at the hotel I went to the bathroom and punched the button to lock the door by accident. All you had to do was turn the knob hard and the button would pop out but I was so bombed that I wouldn't turn the knob but just a little and then I kept stabbing at the button with my drunken fingers, which didn't help. All the while I kept saying "Hey! I'm locked in! Can't get out! I'm woooooozy..." and my ex would say "Turn the knob!" which started the whole cycle of me not turning the knob hard enough and feeble button punching all over again. I didn't get out until I sobered up enough to turn the knob harder.
And don't ever go to Busch Gardens the day after you've gone on a tequila drunk and trapped-in-the-bathroom jag.
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