Friday - Woozy all day. Light headed, nothing serious. I thought it was a catagory 1.5 hangover. Nothing to bitch about. Typical side effects from tequila consumption. Olive Garden dinner. Delicious, but deadly. This would not be the last time I would see that dish of Chicken Alfredo...
Saturday - All hell breaks lose in my gastro-intestinal tract. I literally shit about 25 times that day. Except it was like peeing out my butt. Miserable. Like a gypsy had placed a curse on me. I was powerless, my guts were revolting against me and there was nothing I could do. The climax came when I booted for about three minutes straight. Jet engine style. Chicken Alfredo made a cameo appearance.
Sunday - Day of rest. My guts needed to rebuild. Actually was able to eat food. Needed to regain strength. Crushed the toon Disney channel. Aladdin was the shit. Made plans.
Today - Nearing full strength. Able to make solid shits and fart without crapping my pants (seriously it sucks not being able to fart). I still can't eat food without feeling weird. Fuck that. Tonight is gonna be ill. Winchester meets Manchester with a dash of Auburn. Its going to be like the Flinstones meets the Jetsons (tight movie).
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