So last night I saw Star Trek. I really loved all the Wrath of Khan parallels and had fun drooling over Spock. Also, Bones's reliance on metaphors was hilarious.
Afterwards, hubs and I had a little dinner and dissected the movie. I drank a few diet Cokes, thinking--I'm gonna use some of that movie inspiration to fuel a little late night writing fest! It's gonna be awesome!
Two hours later, I got hit with debilitating nausea (visualize me hugging pillows with my head on the floor, because my bed--that's right, my soft cushie bed--was making me nauseated.)
I sounded like this:
"Don't pat my back, it's making me sicker. Please stop talking, it's making me more nauseated."
"I hate throwing up. I don't want to throw up. This would all go away if I threw up. But I hate throwing up."
*GRRRROOOAAAANNNN* *WHINNNNEEEEE* *GROANNNN*
"Why am I not throwing up yet?????"
(I have a slight case of emetophobia (fear of vomiting), if you haven't figured that out yet).
Two hours after that, I had chills, more nausea (still no puking!), a racing heart beat, cramping and sweats. I thought, I am dying. My innards are festering with the bad kind of E. Coli and my bowels are going to explode soon. It's going to look like the Ebola virus played jump rope with my small intestines. Food poisoning SUCKS.
And the best part? All that caffeine I drank to keep me awake for my anticipated writing session? KEPT ME AWAKE THE WHOLE TIME. So I had little mini convos with myself all night long.
"Wow, it's three o'clock. What is the half-life of caffeine again?"
"No more house salads for me. For now on, I'm eating preservative-filled food. Nothing fresh. Tomorrow my menu will be 100% Twinkies, if I can find them."
"Wow, my heart rate is going at 120! I wonder if I'm in atrial fibrillation? Yes? No?"
"I want to throw up! I hate throwing up! I need to throw up! Why am I not throwing up?"
Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, albeit REALLY sleep deprived and sort of zombie-ish.
Hope you all are having a good Monday. Mine is sort of south-of-meh so far.