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Monday, 16 April 2012

A little bit of puke talk to go with your morning coffee....

I feel I shouldn't have to say this....if you read the blog title at all.....but I know, some of you are like me, and maybe just a tad bit slow and wine hung over fuzzy in the mornings....so I'll repeat myself.  This blog contains talk of puking, puke, throw up, vomit, bucking, upchucking, ralphing, barfing and any other way you want to put it....so if you have a weak stomach, maybe just skim through the rest.  Or go read my blog about penises or something constructive.  Now.....for those still with us, I'll begin.

There is nothing quite like being woken up at 4:43am by your child bursting into your room yelling about puking.  I know, pretty great right??  Except I'm going to take that AND one up it.....it was someone elses kid doing the puking....at my house.  Awesome now right??  I KNOW!  4:43am and Gavin comes busting in "WADES PUKING!"  Barry jumps up "where??"  "In the bathroom!"  Phew right?  Wrong.  Gavin quickly follows up with "but he puked somewhere else first."  "WHERE???"  "I don't know....it was dark....."  EFFFFFFFFF.  I groggily get up and head downstairs...following the sound of heaving.  Now the boys were sleeping in our computer/toy room downstairs on foamies....I flick the light on and there's the biggest pile of vomit I have ever seen....all down the side of the foamy....and on the area rug....and his shirt is sitting in it as well.  What's a girl to do?  I turn around, turn that light off and head back to bed.  Hahahaha just kidding....all though, I'm sure most of you would have been like "yeah, that's what she would do...okay so now where's this story going?" and to those people I say C'MON!  Give me a few mom points here!  Instead I look at Barry and say "You have a mess to clean up"  hahahaha again.....well, sort of.  I did turn the light off.  And look at Barry and just shake my head while mouthing "HOLY FUCK OH NO!"  The best part (best used very sarcastically) is that for dinner, this kid had 2 pieces of panago pizza with roasted veggies and goat cheese....followed by a giant plate of my world famous chicken scallopine.  So now imagine that.  Or don't.....here, let me describe it to you....it was kind of like a pale yellow with fettuccine noodles floating....no?  Too much?  Yeah, me too.  So I grab some plastic bags and we bag up the shirt.....I take the foamy and carefully maneuver it through the house and promptly chuck it out the front door on the lawn all while Barry rolls up the area rug and it joins the foamy on the grass.  I didn't really like that rug anyways.  And you know you can't get puke smell out of stuff like that.  Never mind the fact that as I was standing there looking at it, the only thing I could think of to clean it up would have been a shovel.  I'm not kidding!  It was a PILE of PUKE!  I guess this is karma, getting me back.....which leads me to part two of my story....

Yes, this part also is about puke....sorry...not really.  So I was maybe 10ish...11....12....somewhere in that range....and we go on a family vacation to Spokane.  Now, back then (I'm old remember) Spokane was the only place we ever went to that had a Costco.  I remember that place being HUGE and like AMAZING and wow.  So we are getting ready to leave our hotel, heading down for some breakfast at like a Denny's or whatever and I'm starting to feel a little queasy.  I attempt some toast...no dice.  So I get a 7up to go and lay in the car trying to sleep while my family finishes breakfast.  I'm woken up by my siblings climbing on me to their seats and it's off to Costco!!  Now I'm still reeeaallllyyyy yucky feeling but somehow I get out of the car and head in.  Not long into our shopping trip and I look at my family "where's the bathrooms!?!?!?" and my dad offers to take me......

side note....in telling this story last night around the supper table (yeah, we're odd like that) my mom interjects here "HA!  He chose that over being left alone with the other two!  One puking one who was old enough to handle herself over the two younger ones!" and she rolled her eyes a lot.

......so off we go.  Of course the bathrooms are at the far end of the store....like behind all the check outs.  And I'm pretty sure there was like 20 checkouts and of course they are all lined up to the rafters and there's at least 231837421 people there who can all see me running towards the bathroom.  All of a sudden BLAAAHHHHHHH and I buck all over the floor, while running.  My dads behind me yelling "RUN!!!!" and like shoving me ahead with his foot "RUUUNNN!!!"  BLLLAAAHHHHH and I buck again....while running....behind the tills....where at least a million people are trying to ring through.....BLLLLLAAAAAAHHHHH SPPLLAAATTTTT all over the floor again.  My dad is kicking me, propelling me forward RUUUUNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!  I finally make it to the bathroom...leaving behind like 4 puke piles.  My dad can't come in so he waits outside and some lady takes pity on me.  I still remember her.  She had these CRAZY long painted fingernails and this totally coiffed bouffant hairdo....she rubs my back and holds my forehead so I don't smash it into the toilet seat as I violently barf up all my organs, I'm sure of it.  Another lady gets some cold wet paper towel and they both "there there now...shuushhh...it's okay" me while my dad yells to check on me every now and again.  Finally I'm done....and think I'm okay.  I head out to my dad...I'm shaky and crying and we head back to find the rest of the fam.  Now here's the worst part.....of the entire thing....upon my walk back....past the 3726 check outs and 219837436 customers....I walk past a teenager boy who's on mop duty.....mopping up my piles of puke.  I'm mortified.....and croak out a sorry to him while he glares at me.  My dad gets one of those like big flat carts to put all your giant Costco purchases on and makes a nest of everyones coats and that's where I ride for the rest of our shopping trip.  So basically the moral of the story is, if you're going to puke all over the floor of Costco, some kid will later throw up on your rug.  Truth.

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