This post is for all those people that have ever wondered if you can projectile vomit while driving and not get in an accident. And, the answer is YES.
So I have this friend and her name is...
PAUSE.
Um... Lillian, yep, that's right her name is Lillian. So this morning my friend Lillian went for an 18 mile run (sucks BALLSSSSSSS). Ok, she said it wasn't that bad and everything was pretty normal... at least during the run. She had her pre-run Larabar, her mid run 6, 9, 12 mile chomp breaks and of course LOTS AND LOTS of water and Gatorade.
REWIND.
Let's go back to pre-18 miles. At 6:50am the Atlanta Marathon Club met at the Bike Shop off Floyd Rd in Mabelton, GA right alongside the Silver Comet Trail. We all climbed out of our cars, performed pre-run rituals and caught up with each other. Emilie, Kerrie and I were all sick last week, so there was a quick check to see how everyone was doing.
When I asked Emilie how she was feeling (since she had been sick most recently)... she said much better. She then proceeded to tell me that apparently not only had she come down with a throat (?) and ear infection, but apparently she had water toxicity.
I'll give you a moment to process that.
Ok. Yea. Water toxicity, the condition of having consumed TOO MUCH water. I never knew such a thing was possible... neither did Lillian till later this morning.
FAST FORWARD TO MILE 18.
DONNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Actually the best moment wasn't finishing the 18 miles, it was having Mike tell me at mile 16.1 that we had less than 2 miles to go.
WOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I really can't explain that feeling, except to say it was pure BLISS. Nom nom nom nom nom. Really fucking fantastic.
Anyways, we all finish the run, hobble back to our cars and start the drive home--33 minutes for me--errr, Lillian. So Lillian is driving home and about 15 minutes into the drive she starts to feel a little queasy. Huh, that's strange... Deep breathssssss. Five minutes pass, the fucking deep breathing is not working!
Then she feels it. Uh Oh. Only two exits away from getting off the freeway. KEEP IT TOGETHER, LILLIAN. KEEP IT TOGETHER!!!! Oh God. I can't keep it together... I mean Lillian. Reality has sunk in, she is not going to make it home. She pulls over into the far right lane and looks for a spot to pull over. FUCKING DOWNTOWN ATLANTA!!!! ARGHHHHH there's no where to fucking pull over!!!
EXIT ONLY looms ahead. She moves one lane to the left. And then it happens. Oh God. KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD.
What happened next I can only describe as sheer... well... you know, projectile vomiting. I can only imagine what other drivers passing her must have thought:
"Why is that woman projectile vomiting a gallon of water?"
"Did that woman just drown and projectile vomit herself back to life?"
and, of course:
"DAMNNNNNNNNN"
After she flushed her system of the excess water she felt down right dandy. Except for the fact that she had a gallon of regurgitated water in her lap and soaking through her pants. AWESOME.
I know that this story is, well, ridiculously, ridiculously, TMI. But I'd like to think I'm just doing my civil duty. After all, maybe it could save YOU from water toxicity.
MMM HMMMM.
xoxo Jildo
P.S. Yes, I know, I know this has nothing to do with money... but a valuable lesson none the less.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Last 6 Minutes of Dexter
Note to self: Do not EVER get sick again if you can't keep yourself entertained.
I don't pay for internet or cable. My neighbors are generous and don't secure their network. What's the point of paying for cable, when I have FREE internet? You can find anything online that would air on TV... and on your time. WINNING.
One problem. I couldn't find anything I wanted to watch on Hulu this weekend when my body decided to wage war and hold me prisoner (I don't understand how you can sleep 9 hours, wake up and 10 minutes later be deathly sleepy all over again. But that's what happened to me for the last 48 hours).
In between bouts of sleep I tried to keep myself preoccupied. I found Dexter on tvshow7 and cucirca and decided to give it a try. I'd watched one episode three years ago with my sister and at the time was completely rebuffed... but when you're looking at lying in bed for two days straight sometimes you need a little of that.
I started in on Season One. Obviously. I'm not really sure how far I got yesterday, between chugging water every ten minutes and then falling asleep for spurts of thirty minutes... It was a slow process. I completely and 100% take the blame for that one. But not today.
Do you know that for the past two hours, yes, two! I have been trying to watch the last 6 minutes of episode 11 of season one?! The most frustrating part is that of course its these last 6 minutes where I am SURE that Detective Morgan is going to find out that her boyfriend is the ice truck killer!!!! GAHHHHHHHH. I have become very invested in the last 24 hours.
So why can't I just watch the last 6 minutes?! I'll tell you why! Because the links are janky!!! Yes. JANKY. I swear I feel like I'm watching a football game. I push play. It plays for 10 seconds. Circle of DEATTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. FOR-EV-ERRRRRRRR (insert Sandlot Kid saying "FOR-EV-ERRRRRRRRRRRRR" here). It plays for another 10 seconds... and then guess what?!
CIRCLE OF DEATH.
At this point I just want to buy the whole freaking episode on itunes, but I don't because I keep hanging onto the hope that I can get it to stream for 6666666666666666666 minutes. I should just buy it.
Of course then I have to wait another hour for it to download. Am I being dramatic? Of course. I suppose this is what I get for stealing my kind neighbors internet. HMPH.
I guess I could read... but how do you really follow Fifty Shades of Grey?
No se.
Jildo
I don't pay for internet or cable. My neighbors are generous and don't secure their network. What's the point of paying for cable, when I have FREE internet? You can find anything online that would air on TV... and on your time. WINNING.
One problem. I couldn't find anything I wanted to watch on Hulu this weekend when my body decided to wage war and hold me prisoner (I don't understand how you can sleep 9 hours, wake up and 10 minutes later be deathly sleepy all over again. But that's what happened to me for the last 48 hours).
In between bouts of sleep I tried to keep myself preoccupied. I found Dexter on tvshow7 and cucirca and decided to give it a try. I'd watched one episode three years ago with my sister and at the time was completely rebuffed... but when you're looking at lying in bed for two days straight sometimes you need a little of that.
I started in on Season One. Obviously. I'm not really sure how far I got yesterday, between chugging water every ten minutes and then falling asleep for spurts of thirty minutes... It was a slow process. I completely and 100% take the blame for that one. But not today.
Do you know that for the past two hours, yes, two! I have been trying to watch the last 6 minutes of episode 11 of season one?! The most frustrating part is that of course its these last 6 minutes where I am SURE that Detective Morgan is going to find out that her boyfriend is the ice truck killer!!!! GAHHHHHHHH. I have become very invested in the last 24 hours.
So why can't I just watch the last 6 minutes?! I'll tell you why! Because the links are janky!!! Yes. JANKY. I swear I feel like I'm watching a football game. I push play. It plays for 10 seconds. Circle of DEATTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. FOR-EV-ERRRRRRRR (insert Sandlot Kid saying "FOR-EV-ERRRRRRRRRRRRR" here). It plays for another 10 seconds... and then guess what?!
CIRCLE OF DEATH.
At this point I just want to buy the whole freaking episode on itunes, but I don't because I keep hanging onto the hope that I can get it to stream for 6666666666666666666 minutes. I should just buy it.
Of course then I have to wait another hour for it to download. Am I being dramatic? Of course. I suppose this is what I get for stealing my kind neighbors internet. HMPH.
I guess I could read... but how do you really follow Fifty Shades of Grey?
No se.
Jildo
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Because I Wanna Be a Rockstar...
So as I was lying in bed tonight, I realized what it is.
I got back from Vegas yesterday. At 4:30am on Sunday night/Monday morning my friends and I walked into the Venetian. As soon as we hit the casino carpet the heels were off. And, yes, we went straight for the 24 hour pizza place... they had HUGE NY style slices. Pizza for breakfast.
NOM.
NOM.
NOM.
Then up to our rooms we went. We fell into our fluffy beds and set our alarms for 6am. At 6am I could have chosen to wash my face, brush my hair or even put on some semblance of adult attire. But that's not really my thing.
I threw on my black leggings, a white spaghetti strap and a grey cut off t-shirt with hippie fringe and an indian style design. My half wavy chlorine saturated hair went up in a messy ponytail, the black eyeshadow and the random specks of glitter that managed to stay on through the pool party the night before were definitely staying (and yes, I did have make up remover pads). I threw on my diesel sunglasses with orange trim and pushed my bags over my shoulder.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
This is why I go to Vegas. Maybe its why you go to Vegas, too. Because in Vegas I can be a fucking rock star, even if it is the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. (Frankly, I doubt it is.)
Sure I could walk around Atlanta everyday looking like I'm fucked up. But that would not be cool. And it wouldn't be cool where you live either (unless you live in Vegas)... because lets be honest it's not cool to be fucked up all the time. It's only ok if it's every now and then.
The funny thing? I think I got tipsy once during the trip. Once in THREE days. Not because I have a high tolerance, I don't (I like to be economical, so I don't drink much anymore)... but, because I really didn't drink that much. But damn is it still fun to dance all night and look like a rockstar. That's what Vegas does to you... and me. It makes us rock stars, no matter who we are. (Ok, I take that back. It does not make you a rock star if you are a creepy mccreeperston. So, yea that rules out most guys that go to Vegas. Sorry, better luck next time... don't be a CREEPER!)
All in all it was a successful trip, good food, great friends, awesome, awesome dance parties. We just wanna dance *wink*.
Oh, yeah and I didn't blow my tuition money. So that's always a plus, too.
Cheers to the freakin' weekend in Vegas... see you in December viva.
xoxo. Jildo
P.S. Despite successfully looking like a rock star with my rad ass shades, giving the semblance of fucked up (over what really looked like fucked up), I ran into an old boss and and co-worker at the ATL airport and had to take them off. Yeaaaaaaaaaa. Haha. So, that was interesting. But hey...who really fucking cares?
PEACE OUT. A-TOWN DOWN.
I got back from Vegas yesterday. At 4:30am on Sunday night/Monday morning my friends and I walked into the Venetian. As soon as we hit the casino carpet the heels were off. And, yes, we went straight for the 24 hour pizza place... they had HUGE NY style slices. Pizza for breakfast.
NOM.
NOM.
NOM.
Then up to our rooms we went. We fell into our fluffy beds and set our alarms for 6am. At 6am I could have chosen to wash my face, brush my hair or even put on some semblance of adult attire. But that's not really my thing.
I threw on my black leggings, a white spaghetti strap and a grey cut off t-shirt with hippie fringe and an indian style design. My half wavy chlorine saturated hair went up in a messy ponytail, the black eyeshadow and the random specks of glitter that managed to stay on through the pool party the night before were definitely staying (and yes, I did have make up remover pads). I threw on my diesel sunglasses with orange trim and pushed my bags over my shoulder.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
This is why I go to Vegas. Maybe its why you go to Vegas, too. Because in Vegas I can be a fucking rock star, even if it is the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. (Frankly, I doubt it is.)
Sure I could walk around Atlanta everyday looking like I'm fucked up. But that would not be cool. And it wouldn't be cool where you live either (unless you live in Vegas)... because lets be honest it's not cool to be fucked up all the time. It's only ok if it's every now and then.
The funny thing? I think I got tipsy once during the trip. Once in THREE days. Not because I have a high tolerance, I don't (I like to be economical, so I don't drink much anymore)... but, because I really didn't drink that much. But damn is it still fun to dance all night and look like a rockstar. That's what Vegas does to you... and me. It makes us rock stars, no matter who we are. (Ok, I take that back. It does not make you a rock star if you are a creepy mccreeperston. So, yea that rules out most guys that go to Vegas. Sorry, better luck next time... don't be a CREEPER!)
All in all it was a successful trip, good food, great friends, awesome, awesome dance parties. We just wanna dance *wink*.
Oh, yeah and I didn't blow my tuition money. So that's always a plus, too.
Cheers to the freakin' weekend in Vegas... see you in December viva.
xoxo. Jildo
P.S. Despite successfully looking like a rock star with my rad ass shades, giving the semblance of fucked up (over what really looked like fucked up), I ran into an old boss and and co-worker at the ATL airport and had to take them off. Yeaaaaaaaaaa. Haha. So, that was interesting. But hey...who really fucking cares?
PEACE OUT. A-TOWN DOWN.
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