The day I got my ass kicked by a shrimp, literally.

I went to dinner last night with my family at Olive Garden and enjoyed what I thought was an amazing meal, that is until about 20 minutes after finishing it. Even then it took me a few minutes to realize that I was actually going to die from food poisoning, knowledge which hit me as I laid on the bathroom floor of my favorite Old Navy.

Days- maybe months later a worker came in because they were closing, and presumably she wanted to go home. Unfortunate for her I couldnt be bothered with things like pride, or grace, or even common politeness. I simply muttered something about hell, sabotage, and revenge and rolled over. She left. It was probably a very smart thing to do.

As miserable as I was, I was actually learning a very valuable lesson. Much like Superman and his kryptonite, I too have a weakness which can, even in the tiniest of doses, destroy me. Sure, his comes in the form of an element from another planet and mine is the much less mysterious and probably more common type otherwise refered to as; bad seafood, but it's same same same. Just one more bit of proof that Superman and I are indeed peas in a pod.

Soon after leaving Old Navy, (Not by choice) and the luxuries of it's restrooms, I yelled for Mr. Ninja to pull over at the mall, I was in desperate need of a facility, or a loaded gun, and the mall promised to produce one, or both.

An hour later I was once again becoming familiar with the cold tile of a retail store, this time with a little mix-it-up of in the form of a 4 year old giving play by plays on my cell phone (Which she stole and was taking great joy in holding just out of my reach) to whomever it was she called from my address book. "Oh, she can't talk, she's throwing up. No, I can't bring her the phone she's laying down on the floor. No, she says she's not okay, she's dying and hates us all, but especially you."

It all gets hazy from there but I must have gotten a stomach transplant because this morning seems somewhat better. At least to say I'm no longer begging someone to hit me with a bus or cursing my mother for giving birth to me, and I have managed to avoid coming into inappropriate contact with a retail establishment's bathroom floor for at least the last 8 hours.

However..

I may need some sort of twitter intervention because while laying there, with life flashing before my eyes, trying to get all of my estate and final arrangements planned in my head- I actually took the time to #followfriday someone early, just in case I didn't make it.