So, I accidently ate a bunch of ground beef a few days ago. About nine o’clock last night, I started to feel bad. This is the first time I’ve successfully made it all the way to the posting screen.
Doyce, you can’t process red meat, what happens if you swallow a bunch of it?
Glad you asked.
[the rest gets messy, proceed at your own risk]
[Seriously. What follows is not good clean American fun.]
See, my body doesn’t know it can’t process this stuff. When it doesn’t break down, my stomach just keeps producing more acid.
and more…
and more…
enough to completely liquefy everthing in my digestive tract.
Everything except the beef, of course.
Now, when that particular batch leaves the factory, that’s bad. No doubt about it, but that’s not the worst part. What’s left behind is everything the acid didn’t even touch: completely un-digested bits of ground beef strewn through all the system like shrapnel. It’s not like the body doesn’t keep trying to work on that stuff.
Oh, and lets not forget the beef grease. The stomach keeps trying to dissolve that crap too.
Somewhere in there, the acid starts stripping stomach lining and intestinal wall and shipping it out with the rest.
By this point, were in a pattern: 15 minutes of room-spinning contraction-cramps as the little workers in the factory try to get all the bits of beef and bits of me out the door, followed by 45 minutes of laying on the nearest flat surface. Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
That’s been going on since 9 pm. Still going on. The room doesn’t spin now.
The problem is that each little bit of beef seems to warrant one full bought of factory work. I wish I’d eaten a steak… nice big pieces… would have been taken care of much more quickly.
There are times when a stomach pumping sounded like a really good idea.
About 3 am, the factory boss decides: “oh to hell with this, we have enough going on with this damn mess… that pizza shipment that we got awhile ago? Send that crap back out the door in came in: we aren’t working on it.”
Wheee.
So, a timeline:
Delicious spaghetti.*
Blogathon.
Three Hours sleep.
House moving.
Pizza.
Watch a movie with the boy.
Lie down very early to get caught up on sleep.
Sick sick sick sick sick.
Still pretty tired.
* - It really was good. Also, I sort of surprise-attented the gathering that was serving it, so they didn’t know I was coming and I didn’t ask about the sauce. I should have asked. My fault.
I’m just really glad I managed to finish the blogathon and the moving before it kicked in. I’m so glad I was home when it started.
