Stomach churning and spontaneous hurling.

It is a well known fact amongst my social circle, that I have the weakest stomach ever known to woman. So much so, that quite often a conversation will be halted for my benefit.

Because, if continued, it will set off a series of dry wretches and if left unedited, ultimately… a vomit.

My dear friend The Divine Ms. M knows this all to well as a few weeks ago, she regaled me with a story about her cat Carol, who had been suffering from an abscess. She used the word “pus ball” one time too many and the result was me chundering into her sink. Her fresh sink.

We discussed this after I cleaned it up. The Divine Ms M told me that slimy bags of rotting salad leaves that have gone a bit black and have produced putrid water, made her hurl.

And as it turns out, this made me hurl as well. Not quite, but dry wretch a lot. It was like yawning. Her and me standing there. Trying not to yak.

Just last week, I was visiting my friend Kim who was in hospital after contracting a Golden Staph* infection. Kim is a very good storyteller (she blogs here) and was immensely amusing me with her imitations of the other people in her previous shared ward.

She had to be readmitted after her back operation due to the staph infection that she swears she got from someone in that ward who had gastro. She had her own room then, due to the infection.

Anyway, as she is such a descriptive and vivacious storyteller, she got part way into a very detailed recount of all her medical prodding and poking and bodily fluid draining, when I started to feel woozy. 

Then a nurse came in carrying a massive fucking needle and I called a time out on myself.

Once I recovered, I set up a lovely, romantic shot of her gazing out the windows of The Royal North Shore hospital, featuring her cannula…. (retch).

Here is a list of other things that make me spontaneously hurl.

  • Dog shit on a shoe
  • Bird shit on a cafe table
  • Chuy’s litter tray
  • Bin juice
  • Southern Comfort
  • Any type of guts or gizzards that I come across, including road kill.
  • Pus of any type (apart from zits, but even then, only my own)
  • When people talk intricately about bowl movements. WHY MUST YOU?
  • Rancid dairy products produced from our fridge.
But the number one thing what reduces my stomach to completely high tsunami levels is without a doubt….

Public fucking toilets.

At Trop Fest last night. 
Are you a fellow sufferer?
What makes you want to hurl your cookies?

*worst name ever for an infection. They make it sound lovely. Apparently it is not.