Yesterday my lunch resigned from my stomach on short notice. As I was hunkered on the floor, a caustic freshet of broccoli dill soup shooting from both my mouth and nose, I realized it was the fourth anniversary of Vomitola.com! Actually, I realized that this morning. And the anniversary is really last Monday. No, head in bowl, I thought “Heather would know just what to play!” That’s a compliment. Once I threw up during a college radio shift, and while I was off horking up my tacos, she played “The Choke” by Skinny Puppy. Oh, nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen…nobody knows but boddddyyy.
I also realized that I haven’t thrown up in seven months and two days. Say, that’s the exact age of a ybab. Say. I threw up ON her on the most auspicious day of her birth. Should I put that in the memory book? Of course I’m going to. Where is the memory book, anyway? Mr. H has not thrown up in the entire six or seven years that I’ve known him. His take on the situation? “I’d rather crap.” Well, wouldn’t we all. Wouldn’t we all!