The official start of summer wouldn't be complete without a vomit story.
Wednesday night, the night of the LAST day of school, my son Ace walks out of his room around 11 pm gagging.
"Someone threw up in my bed! (gag, choke, gag)"
"Well, looking at the chunks on your jammies pal, my guess is that it was you."
"It wasn't me. (gag, gag, choke, gag) I was sleeping."
So, now I have a sleep-puker in addition to a talk-puker. Good times.
Thankfully Paco stripped the sheets and got him settled down. (This knee thing comes in very handy at times!)
What a way to start off the summer . . .
Showing posts with label spaghetti vomit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spaghetti vomit. Show all posts
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Firing on All Cylinders
I have clearly upset the Gods.
I'm not sure if it was the window-licker comments or my murderous thoughts toward Paco.
Whatever it was, I'm so very, very sorry. VERY sorry.
I have spent the last 2 days fighting a miserable bug. I'm literally firing on all cylinders. Both ends are spouting like Old Faithful.
And when your relying on crutches and a wheelchair for transportation. Well, it's pretty stinkin' miserable.
And like Old Faithful, I erupt every hour, like clockwork.
The best was Paco came home from basketball and found me on the toilet, puking out my spaghetti dinner into the bathroom trash can.
Since I was unable to clean up after myself, Paco was given the wonderful task of cleaning up my mess in the trash can. And since I only used a flimsy Wegmans bag as a can liner, naturally, when he removed the bag, he managed to soak himself in my spaghetti vomit.
Perhaps that will teach him to let me out in public with a ginormous clip stuck to my head, eh?
I'm not sure if it was the window-licker comments or my murderous thoughts toward Paco.
Whatever it was, I'm so very, very sorry. VERY sorry.
I have spent the last 2 days fighting a miserable bug. I'm literally firing on all cylinders. Both ends are spouting like Old Faithful.
And when your relying on crutches and a wheelchair for transportation. Well, it's pretty stinkin' miserable.
And like Old Faithful, I erupt every hour, like clockwork.
The best was Paco came home from basketball and found me on the toilet, puking out my spaghetti dinner into the bathroom trash can.
Since I was unable to clean up after myself, Paco was given the wonderful task of cleaning up my mess in the trash can. And since I only used a flimsy Wegmans bag as a can liner, naturally, when he removed the bag, he managed to soak himself in my spaghetti vomit.
Perhaps that will teach him to let me out in public with a ginormous clip stuck to my head, eh?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
