My boss decided to show up at work today at 1:00. He's never been the model of early arrivals, but this is pretty late even for him. His mom has been very ill lately, and I guess he was at her place cleaning up her puke.
I've got a pretty iron stomach. I can brush mold off of food and eat it with no problems. I can drink an insane amount of alcohol, and keep it all down. Changing nasty diapers doesn't bother me in the least. But the slightest hint of puke, and it's game over for Umbrella. I am a classic sympathy puker.
As an example of this Achilles heel, let me tell you a story. Quite a while back, when my oldest daughter was pretty young (5 or so), we were driving to northern Arizona to spend Christmas with my ex's family. When the oldest was young, she had a horrible problem with getting car sick. Every trip was an adventure. One of the things we read was that sitting the child in the front seat will help prevent them from getting sick. It makes sense, it's hard to throw up when you are being smothered by an air bag.
So she was sitting in the passenger seat, I was driving, and my ex was zonked out in the back. We were approaching Flagstaff right as an old fashioned blizzard was hitting town. I don't drive in snow very often, so I was driving a bit slow, and really focusing on the road. All of a sudden, my daughter turns to me, says "Daddy, I'm going to be sick," and before I could respond, promptly barfs all over me.
I reacted as if someone threw acid on me. Warm, stinky, bile-filled acid in various states of digestion. I did everything I could to create a multi-car pileup as I swerved off of the highway. Apparently, the yelling and reckless driving woke my ex up. She must have thought she lost her mind as she woke up to me jumping out of the car, stripping on the side of the highway, in a blizzard, no less, while my daughter was crying. I had chucked my clothes as far away from me as I could, as I washed my skin with the snow. By this time, she had gotten out of the car, and was looking for clean clothes for my daughter. She looked over at me and asked if I was OK. Let's see, I'm standing on the side of the road, wearing nothing but boxers in the middle of a blizzard, while fighting my gag reflex and/or frostbite. I think it's safe to say, I'm pretty fucking far from OK.
It was pretty much a recreation of this scene, except with puke. And in the snow. And I probably overreacted more. And I'm way sexier. But other than that, it was exactly the same.
Also, as an aside, I am going on a business trip tomorrow, so I don't know if I will get a chance to post the Golden Umbrella before I go. I have to admit, the pickings have been slim this week. But I do have a frontrunner. If anyone wants to nominate a worthy site, let me know via comments or email.
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1 comment:
Vomit is also my nemesis. I can handle anything else, poop, wounds, & gnarly abscesses. All easy to deal with. I see, smell or even hear heaving, I will first start to feel the saliva building up, repeatedly gag & then finally sympathy puke. When I puke it's like the exorcist. I am not a pretty puker. I think it's because it tends to come out of my nose. Usually because I am crying for my mommy.
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