Panic yaking.
Pancheros has declared war on me. And my friends, I regret to inform you, they have dealt the decisive blow.
Allow me to explain.
Yesterday for lunch, I decided to go to Pancheros for a tasty steak burrito. I ate it, it was indeed delicious, and I then went about my day, all too unaware of the sneak attack that I had incurred.
The day progressed on, I finished my work day, went home, nothing out of the ordinary. Then it came time for dinner. I thought of what I might have to eat. Perhaps I could make spaghetti, order pizza, maybe make a nice sandwich. It wasn't until then the realization hit me that I truly wasn't hungry, and the entire concept of food made me feel downright terrible.
Something was indeed amiss.
Was it a stomach flu? Food poisoning? I couldn't be sure. All I could be sure of is that slight discomfort I felt in my stomach had evolved into pain and nausea.
I sat on the couch and watched TV, hoping it would just pass. The less I moved, the better I felt until finally I thought it was safe for me to go upstairs and go to bed. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Pancheros had lulled me into a false sense of security, and as I stood up, shifting my axis, and thus all the contents of my stomach, a horrible truth washed over me. One that we've all felt at one time or another. One we all know too well.
I had to puke. Now.
Now let me tell you a little known fact about me. One that is little known for a very good reason. I am a panic yaker.
A panic yaker is a person who doesn't just throw up from their stomach. They throw up from their toes. Panic yakers do not vomit quietly and subtly, instead they puke like thunder and anger, the way God must puke. The room shakes, dogs in the neighborhood start barking in the night, frightened at the sound.
But the most interesting part of the panic yaker, is what can only be described as the "anti-orgasm." The moment after the event where suddenly he can catch his breath again, and does so while moaning, quite loudly, in agony.
That was my night last night. Today I have the worst headache imaginable, and I'm sore all over from all the physical exertion. My stomach feels better now, I just ate a bowl of soup, which is the first thing I ate (that stayed with me) since a bowl of cereal yesterday morning.
For those of you out there who feel I haven't posted in too long, I apologize that this is the way I came back. I'm sure I'll write something more pleasant next month.
-j
Allow me to explain.
Yesterday for lunch, I decided to go to Pancheros for a tasty steak burrito. I ate it, it was indeed delicious, and I then went about my day, all too unaware of the sneak attack that I had incurred.
The day progressed on, I finished my work day, went home, nothing out of the ordinary. Then it came time for dinner. I thought of what I might have to eat. Perhaps I could make spaghetti, order pizza, maybe make a nice sandwich. It wasn't until then the realization hit me that I truly wasn't hungry, and the entire concept of food made me feel downright terrible.
Something was indeed amiss.
Was it a stomach flu? Food poisoning? I couldn't be sure. All I could be sure of is that slight discomfort I felt in my stomach had evolved into pain and nausea.
I sat on the couch and watched TV, hoping it would just pass. The less I moved, the better I felt until finally I thought it was safe for me to go upstairs and go to bed. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Pancheros had lulled me into a false sense of security, and as I stood up, shifting my axis, and thus all the contents of my stomach, a horrible truth washed over me. One that we've all felt at one time or another. One we all know too well.
I had to puke. Now.
Now let me tell you a little known fact about me. One that is little known for a very good reason. I am a panic yaker.
A panic yaker is a person who doesn't just throw up from their stomach. They throw up from their toes. Panic yakers do not vomit quietly and subtly, instead they puke like thunder and anger, the way God must puke. The room shakes, dogs in the neighborhood start barking in the night, frightened at the sound.
But the most interesting part of the panic yaker, is what can only be described as the "anti-orgasm." The moment after the event where suddenly he can catch his breath again, and does so while moaning, quite loudly, in agony.
That was my night last night. Today I have the worst headache imaginable, and I'm sore all over from all the physical exertion. My stomach feels better now, I just ate a bowl of soup, which is the first thing I ate (that stayed with me) since a bowl of cereal yesterday morning.
For those of you out there who feel I haven't posted in too long, I apologize that this is the way I came back. I'm sure I'll write something more pleasant next month.
-j
