In Which I Reflect Upon Food Poisoning

So, back in September, I wrote a post about many things, including how John Green and Bill Gates were teaming up with water.org to build wells in Ethiopia...

Anyways, at one point, I wrote:

"I understand that diarrhea is one of the leading causes of death in children in many countries, because you can't drive to walmart and pick up some Pedialite. Because they don't have clean water, or easy access to IV systems, they get dehydrated and die. From diarrhea! As inconvenient as it is, diarrhea isn't something we have to worry we might die from."

It's ironic that I was talking about dying of diarrhea, when I was unknowingly in the first few hours of food poisoning. Never have I been more sick.

Let me just say, I have a lot of experience being sick. I have a chronic pain disease. But this beat all. Let's just say that I now know the difference between a little stomach bug-- which I get a lot, it's a part of fibromyalgia-- and true food poisoning.

Even thinking about it now, it's like, oh. My. Gosh. It's been over a month, and I'm still in shock over the trauma that was food poisoning. Let's just say I got so exhausted that I stopped being able getting out of bed, so I collapsed on the nasty carpet in my bathroom and cried. And barfed. And pooped. And cried so more. Every time I see carpet I have traumatic flashbacks.

Huuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhnuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnn.

(That was a shudder/gag)

What did I get so sick off of? I don't know. Mom and I had gone to the movies-- so I ate popcorn, which I don't usually eat (but Mom had, too, and she was fine) and we'd gotten candy at the dollar store that was a little stale, but other than that all I had was a turkey Subway sandwich. Although not fancy in any sort of way, it was decent enough. It was a sandwich. How can you sick off a friggin turkey sandwich?

And it's like, my body has no self-preservation. I see Subway commercials, and instead of being overwhelmed with nausea like a normal person, I'm only on the slightly negative side of indifferent.

No, the best part was that Dad was out of town, so it was just me and Mom, and she took a sleeping pill so she missed this entire thing. It brought me a smile to realize that I despite the fact I had nearly every light in the house on, her door was wide open, I was flushing repeatedly, crying and barfing/dry heaving loudly. And in those few moments of agonizing quiet between attacks, I could hear her snoring happily away.

... Also, I'm not ruling out that dollar store butterfinger that tasted curiously stale.

Knowing me, I probably caught some parasite along with the food poisoning that is slowly eating my inside, and attaching to my spinal cord in order to defecate in my spinal fluid and therefore soil and overtake my brain. All while making me poop my brains out.

I never want to see a toilet again.

In Which I Find My Previously Mentioned Airport Shirt and Slyly Throw In My Christmas List

FOUND MY FLYING SHIRT.



Also: this would work.
 

See my pinterest Christmas List for all this awesomeness and more.

Flying: Part Two

(October 27, 2014, continued)

So, flying.

I don't know if flying ends up being crazy ordeal for everyone, or if it's just me. Technically it ends up being more "crazy" than "ordeal", because apparently I attract the crazy. But it's always... Entertaining. I have never flown somewhere and not gained a story to tell. Literally.

Currently, I am in the air. On a plane. In case that wasn't obvious. Cruising over California, on my way to spend Halloween with Steph and her family, which I'm stoked about, but I'll talk bout that later. I have to get there first.

I've found that most of the crazy and ordeals happen in the airports, more than the planes themselves. People are chatty when flying. Like, really chatty. Also, cranky. This is probably because there's a lot of emotions involved with flying, and vacations, and especially the work -related  events (if the crankiness of business people is anything to judge by. Dude, business people, airport personnel are just doing their own jobs. You're not the only working person in the world. Tone down the attitude, maybe?). Which usually just means nobody is at their best. Travel brings out the worst in everyone. And the inner chatterbox in 89% of people.

And what do I hate? Having long conversations with strangers. I can do the casual answer-your-question or sitting-next-to-each-other-polite-comment, you know, the usual day-to-day polite-talk. But airports aren't your usual day-to-day activities. Also, there are exponentially larger amounts of old ladies in airports. Which means: your chance of getting sucked into a "let's-share-our-life-stories" conversation is astronomically high. Especially if you are me.

We're still not sure what it is about me that gives off the "TELL ME YOUR LIFE STORY!" vibe, but it's probably a combination of my tendency to smile at people, the fact that I'm often traveling with my parents (it says "I'm a good, family girl, but I'm also sort of a third wheel, and lacking a conversing partner, which SHOULD DEFINITELY BE YOU"), and I'm totally uncomfortable talking to strangers for more than two minutes (they can smell it on me, like fear).

So. Yes. This is my main gripe with flying, mainly because it ALWAYS HAPPENS. It becomes funny in the predictability of it. I really, really want to get a tee-shirt to wear to airports that says something about being an introvert or socially awkward to ward people off. CHRISTMAS, PEOPLE. I NEED. FLYING SHIRT. CHECK MY PINTEREST.

But there are more interesting flying experiences. Another big one is that I HATE it when people talk on flights. Because, mainly, it's ALWAYS strangers having life-story conversations with other strangers, which is, like, doubly bad as ME being involved in the conversation. It's TWO people I don't want to know about, and I'm forced to hear their life-stories. Because, of course, you HAVE TO SHOUT TO BE HEARD ON AN AIRPLANE, BECAUSE ITS LOUD, WHICH MEANS THAT THE WHOLE PLANE HEARS ABOUT YOUR WHOLE LIFE AND WITNESSES YOUR SAD FLIRTING, AND REALLY, I JUST DON'T. 

Guess who's behind me right now? Despite it being a less than half full flight? Yeah. I'm telling you. There's a certain vibe I give off that attracts these people.

Other strange things that have happened lately at airports:

1. A lesbian that I had acknowledge-smiled at on my flight winked at me when we passed each in the bathroom (in the airport). The fact that it was in the bathroom made it hundred times weirder.

2. A teenage girl talked to me non-stop throughout an hour and a half flight. I mean, nonstop. She didn't stop when I took out my book read. She still talked to me when I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. She STILL talked when I took out my earphones, put them in, closed my eyes, turned away, and tried desperately to sleep. I learned that day to never compliment anyone's backpack, because that's what started the never-ending conversation.

3. The old lady sitting next to me had a hobby of becoming friends with flight attendants-- cue life-story conversations-- and liked to give them little angel pins. Admittedly, the pin was really cute. But it was reply awkward for everyone around.

4. The old lady that followed me through 2 airports. She sat beside and told me about her grandkids for an hour before we boarded, and when we got of to transfer, so did she. So she followed us into a restaurant and randomly sat down at our table and continued to tell me her life story. It was so strange.  I would have been a better sport had my parents not been snickering the whole time: I'm a magnet to these people.

...... More I can't think of right now. I'm getting a little motion-sick.

I'm gonna read now and try not to take Dramamine. Dude, I'm so stoked... I'm going to Idaho! I'm gonna go see my sister and brother-in-law and my pseudo babies-- my little niece and nephew! And I get them all to myself... Just me visiting. And it's Halloween! I get to do all the Halloween-y things with the kids! This is like the first time Ellie (3) is really going to understand trick-or-treating and all that jazz, and this is Cameron's first-- wait, no, no it's not. He was a month old last Halloween. This is his first conscious Halloween! The first Halloween he gets to run around in a costume! The first time I've dressed up in years! I made a sweet mermaid costume and everything! It's gonna be so incredibly fun!

Totallllllllllllllly worth the flights.

In Which I Refrain From Dancing and Witness Mysterious Sewer Smells on a Plane

October 27, 2014

So, do you remember the commercials from Apple for the very first iPhone? (Which, by the way, I thought was the coolest thing the world. It totally and completely blew my mind that you could have music on your phone. WHAT.) You know, where there was some guy totally jamming out to his music, dancing his way through the normal people in some city?

I feel certain that, should this be a socially acceptable activity, that would be me on a daily basis. 

No, for real. I find myself having to restrain myself nearly every time I hear music these days. I can't tell if this is a good impulse or not. But it's pretty inconvenient that dancing like an idiot in public is not socially acceptable.

Psh.

***Random side note: I'm writing this on the plane on the way to Boise (listening to music, trying not to shimmy around to my music), and someone just cut one of the nastiest farts I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing. For real, it feel like I just got a huge whiff of a Port-a-potty that's been baking the sun for a few days... It's like raw sewer up in here. I'm like legitamitly worried for this offender... He may not be okay. He may be having a serious medical problem at our pleasant cruising altitude. Forget Ebola, someone's colon is aaaaaangry.

Huuuuuwhuuuuhhhhhhhhh

(That was me giving a massive gag)

Oh, good: someone near me got a coffee. I'd rather have coffee fumes wafting around up in here than sewer smells. 

Here's to hoping he makes it through our hour and fifteen minute flight...