Three Packets, and I Still Got My Ass Kicked … But Jet Li Helps.

It didn’t turn out the way we thought it would.

A nice dinner in a trendy Big-Bad-Voodoo-Daddy restaurant/bar, followed  by an evening of relaxation. Simple, yes?

No.

Not for the Guat.

There was nothing Big Bad Voodoo Daddy about it … Just bad.

The service was slow, the food was bad, the dinner was overpriced, and the wine glass was not half full. Not cool, man.

Once again “me time” bites me in the ass. “Me time” … time away from your kids so that you’re not a parent for five seconds, time away from your job so you’re not working for “The Man” 18 hours a day, time away from school so you’re not having a nervous breakdown from all the stress of a higher education. This is “Me Time.”  And once again it bit me in the ass.

First it’s my near-death Pinkberry experience, then it’s my mission eight o’clock falling up the stairs (yes I said up) experience, which resulted in a bruise the size of a watermelon on my hip area, and now this. Me time is being challenged by forces of the universe.

Sal De Uvas Picot...didn't help me this time.

Three packets of Sal de Uvas Picot and I still got my ass kicked. One packet usually does the job when I have an upset stomach, but this food entity inside me was cruel. It just laughed at my efforts.

It laid me out…I’m down for the count, still. I went to the porcelain thrown and had that not so good feeling rumbling in my stomach and esophagus. I was grossed out. I literally grossed myself out.

Oh-oh.

I knew it was coming.    

And then there it was … I threw up the sad three-course dinner. I don’t like throwing up, I imagine most people dislike this experience. But the stomach is a powerful thing. It’s part of the digestive tract. It’s in charge of phase two. Apparently the enzymes and acids did not agree during phase two, tragically for me.

So needless to say it took me a while to recover. I was down for the count.

So here I am feeling wretched and hoping it’s not food poisoning, because I sincerely don’t want to visit the porcelain thrown all night.

After my episode, I laid down on the couch, curled up on my side, flipping through the channels.

image via ma-collection.com

Then my dude found him on TeleFutura. He was kicking ass and he made me feel better.

I mean I didn’t imagine I would end up watching a 1994 Jet Li movie dubbed in Spanish:  Puno Legendario. Fists of Legend.

Ahhhhh … nothing like watching Jet Li kick ass to help keep my mind off my stomach kicking my ass.

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