When I woke up again I was feeling worse. I climbed back up all 16 of the stairs and stumbled back into bed. About a minute later I decided to move my little party into the bathroom. I sat on the toilet. Then I sat on the floor. Then I layed on the floor. My illness reached a crescendo and I leaned over the toilet and vomited three times. IMMEDIATELY after I finished my final vomiting session I had to whip around and plunk my ass down as diarrhea spewed out of me.

I still had fucking puke in my mouth. Once the torrent of sickness stopped I was able to lean over slightly and spit it into the sink. Fucking revolvting. I hate how vomit seems to burn itself into the lining of your throat right where it meets your nose and you can't fucking get rid of it.

I spent most of Monday on the toilet. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to call your wife and ask her to buy you some of those things people use to wipe their baby's ass? Do you know how humiliating it is when she thinks that's hilarious and tells everyone, dispite the fact that you threatened to murder her if she mentioned it? The answer is "really humiliating".

I was balls out dehydrated by the end of the day on Monday. I just fucking lay there, aching, freezing cold, and pale as fuck. I hadn't eaten since the cheese and crackers (which I vomited out anyway) on Sunday night.

Tuesday I felt hung over and a little sore, but otherwise I was okay. I called in to work again, drank lots of fluids, and Wednesday I was back at work, happy and productive and my usual cheerful self.