got sick sick from too much burger but put out a new podcast

A couple nights ago I stopped at McDonald’s on my way home because I had a coupon, 1 large fry for $1, but while waiting in line and smelling the food I realized I was actually hungrier than I’d thought, and decided to add a McDouble to the order, which seemed adequate for a couple minutes until, as customer after customer seemed not to know there was a menu directly in front of them this whole time, my stomach started to grumble and twist and tell me that a double cheeseburger and large order of fries wasn’t enough.

So I added a cheeseburger to the plan.

Good plan.

Got to the counter, placed my order, collected my food like a racoon in a spotlight and ate the whole thing while walking the half-mile back to my apartment.

It was good, it was filling.

It was enough food.

When I got to my apartment, belly entering the room a good pace-and-a-half before me, I noticed there was some leftover garlic bread from the day before. And a billiard-sized meatball. They were cold but attractive so I took off my belt and ate them.

At the halfway point it became actually uncomfortable but, channeling Trick E. Dick (“I was raised to be a Quaker, not a Quitter”), I endured.

I ate the whole thing.

The “Framed Fries” design created by Richard Agius, Creative Director at TBWA\ANG. Courtesy Richard Agius and TBWA\ANG

So were lain, reader, the seeds of an enduring gastric calamity that’s kept me planted for the better part of two days. A nightmare. Waking up at 3 a.m. that first night and hustling to the bathroom to puke–but then not puking.

A malfunction.

The pain was so bad, though, that I tried, with a couple reluctant fingers, to bring forth the tide, like some kinda crackhead Moses, forgetting that I have a gag reflex like the metal buzzer in Operation!, the board game with a big red-nosed white guy lain supine and naked and aghast, not unlike myself, needing things removed from his body that really shouldn’t be there in the first place (again: moi).

Another issue: When I gag, I scream. It sucks but I can’t help it.

I also have a roommate.

So, this being 3 a.m., it really just took that one failed bulimic venture to realize I’d have to find some other avenue. 


It helped.

I fell asleep. Overslept. Woke up retching and writhing. Wishing for some kind of poop surrogate to come and avail me: “Savior,” I’d tell her, “name your price.”

The day trickled on. I did my tutoring shift at my desk, head hung low and belly purring, and then, rather than heading off to happy hour, I stayed put for three hours and edited the last half of a podcast episode I’d recorded back in March and then neglected while rushing to finish the latest eBook.

So, a silver lining: the McDonald’s & Leftovers Nightmare prompted a new episode of the podcast, which you can find here.

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