The last few days I've been sicker than I've been in years and this manifested itself as more explosive behaviour from my stomach than was observed in the so-called 'nuclear research' that took place in the Bimini Atoll in the sixties and, in relative terms, it made that 'research' seem no more impressive than poppers at a child's birthday party.
It started Wednesday night when my stomach resolved to expel everything in it and this continued far into the next day. Anyone who thinks this type of reaction is not possible after the stomach runs out of contents has never participated in matching tequila shots at The Matrix on a Friday night.
In those last two days, I did manage some solid food. I started boldly with half a slice of bread. There wasn't anything on it, just the bread. This exercise fortified me enough to stumble to the co-op to get some chicken noodle soup, the food which is so effective in curing just about anything that if adopted by any medical insurance organisation would quickly rise to cost of one hundred pounds per can.
Thus far, this plague has not been inflicted on the other end of me and I beseech thee, Zeus, don't let it happen. I'm nackered, bro.
Language catch-up: Nackered is universal Brit for worn out. Shattered is Midlands Brit for hungry. Some slang is regional so keep your notebook handy.
Perhaps you wonder why no-one could help with my little problem but, looking about the place, I observe there is no-one else here. However, during this time, I learned to my amusement that one of my sisters is devoting her autumn years to helping the homeless. Thanks for the fish, sis.
This time was not entirely lost as I managed to continue my marathon of reruns of "The Big Bang Theory." Thus far, I have seen almost every episode from the first six seasons. You may think think that's unusual as you have been a regular viewer and have seen them too but I've done it since I got to Scotland. In fact, I watched the entire fourth season in the same day. The only consequence of this is that I may never again listen to anything by Barenaked Ladies (they did the theme song for "The Big Bang Theory").
And that segues nicely to the substantial difference between a geek and a nerd. If you know that substantial difference then guess what.
Hint: a geek bites the heads off chickens in a circus
Without commercials, the show only runs for twenty minutes but lately I would be asleep again before each one finished so I have watched some of them multiple times. And still the pressing questions remains: will Leonard and Penny really stay together this time; will Howard and Bernadette really get married; will Sheldon and Amy ever get naked together; will applied physicists ever find anything useful that can be done with the Higg's boson that theoretical physicists have so cleverly discovered.
There are two priorities for this day, to talk to Cat and to go to Pol Arida's show tonight. There was no chance to talk yesterday as I could barely walk to the bathroom until evening when I got the chicken soup that turned me into Superman. I'm still a bit wobbly and solid food would tempt me equally if served on a plate or scraped off the road but I have news and must talk to Cat.
(Ed: Why not tell her here?)
Cat gets news first. Everything else in the article she probably figured out already but this is new. Update to come tomorrow. I'd say it's 50/50 on making it to Pol Arida's show, tho.
It started Wednesday night when my stomach resolved to expel everything in it and this continued far into the next day. Anyone who thinks this type of reaction is not possible after the stomach runs out of contents has never participated in matching tequila shots at The Matrix on a Friday night.
In those last two days, I did manage some solid food. I started boldly with half a slice of bread. There wasn't anything on it, just the bread. This exercise fortified me enough to stumble to the co-op to get some chicken noodle soup, the food which is so effective in curing just about anything that if adopted by any medical insurance organisation would quickly rise to cost of one hundred pounds per can.
Thus far, this plague has not been inflicted on the other end of me and I beseech thee, Zeus, don't let it happen. I'm nackered, bro.
Language catch-up: Nackered is universal Brit for worn out. Shattered is Midlands Brit for hungry. Some slang is regional so keep your notebook handy.
Perhaps you wonder why no-one could help with my little problem but, looking about the place, I observe there is no-one else here. However, during this time, I learned to my amusement that one of my sisters is devoting her autumn years to helping the homeless. Thanks for the fish, sis.
This time was not entirely lost as I managed to continue my marathon of reruns of "The Big Bang Theory." Thus far, I have seen almost every episode from the first six seasons. You may think think that's unusual as you have been a regular viewer and have seen them too but I've done it since I got to Scotland. In fact, I watched the entire fourth season in the same day. The only consequence of this is that I may never again listen to anything by Barenaked Ladies (they did the theme song for "The Big Bang Theory").
And that segues nicely to the substantial difference between a geek and a nerd. If you know that substantial difference then guess what.
Hint: a geek bites the heads off chickens in a circus
Without commercials, the show only runs for twenty minutes but lately I would be asleep again before each one finished so I have watched some of them multiple times. And still the pressing questions remains: will Leonard and Penny really stay together this time; will Howard and Bernadette really get married; will Sheldon and Amy ever get naked together; will applied physicists ever find anything useful that can be done with the Higg's boson that theoretical physicists have so cleverly discovered.
There are two priorities for this day, to talk to Cat and to go to Pol Arida's show tonight. There was no chance to talk yesterday as I could barely walk to the bathroom until evening when I got the chicken soup that turned me into Superman. I'm still a bit wobbly and solid food would tempt me equally if served on a plate or scraped off the road but I have news and must talk to Cat.
(Ed: Why not tell her here?)
Cat gets news first. Everything else in the article she probably figured out already but this is new. Update to come tomorrow. I'd say it's 50/50 on making it to Pol Arida's show, tho.
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