About a year after Karen Carpenter died, there was an article in People about her using Serum of Ipecac and I thought that sounded like a good idea. I WAS YOUNG AND STUPID AND LIVING IN SLAVERY TO MY BODY IMAGE ISSUES!!!! Tried it. Once. NEVER EVER AGAIN
End TMI WARNRING
I wish I could blame the nausea on the screen over the chair showing Ratatouille, but no such luck. Maybe I shouldn't have been inhaling the nitrous quite so deeply, especially after doing my Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet imitation. "Mommy, mommy."
Anyway, I'm ok, and I got through it, but it just goes to show, that this week really sucks.
I took the 22 Fillmore back to Church & Market and went to a thrift store called Out of the Closet to get a shirt that didn't smell like puke. Then I went to the Mint, where I ran into my friend Bob. We spent about three hours doing obscure songs, trading snark, and generally having fun. I won't bother posting the whole song list, but it was the most relaxed I've felt in days.
At about 715-ish I left and went to Pak-Wan to get some Indian food for dinner. (My tummy's ok, I promise.) Outside on 16th Street, I overheard the following piece of information, which I pass on to you to use as you see fit:
"It's ok to write on somebody if they've passed out, but not if they've fallen asleep."