Eat Meat With a Gay Day Fail

The saddest thing may have happened, and worse, I don't have a viable way to prove if it did or did not happen.  A sad thing did happen, but what caused it is in question.  Yesterday was Eat Meat With a Gay Day.  Did you get a gift of meat for the gay in your life?  I certainly did.  Even if I didn't get banana pudding as I had hoped (what, no more banana pudding, just pies?  I don't want a fucking pie, I want banana pudding, gosh darn it).  While eating my very large meat sandwich (tell me counter boy, was it the orange shoes that made you so generous with the fatty brisket?), I began to get itchy.  The dreaded itchy kind of itchy where I start struggling in  my clothes and rubbing myself in various places while trying at the same time to not touch myself.  It is an interpretative dance I enjoy doing to amuse the public.  Bits of cinder rained down around us, and the wind blew the divine smell of wood smoke under my nose.  It was lovely, except the welts that were forming all the fuck over me.  Guamaniac, him of beautifully flawless skin, looked at me with concern (for himself or me, I'm not sure).  We finish up lunch with him admonishing me for my continual rub-rub dance.  At work the welts kept creeping around my body, cropping up in the most unwanted places (have you tried to surreptitiously rub your nipple HARD at work?).  By the time I got home I was in full-blown allergy attack.  Snots, headache, swollen tongue, itchy skin, red eyes, throat ache.  All the good stuff.  With the aid of Benadryl I was put to bed around 8:15pm (The Boy was very kind and got me off the couch and in to bed).  Since I am ever the positive person, I set the alarm for 6am, thinking I could be at work by 7am.  At 7:20am, I texted my boss that I was dead and would be all day, and popped another Benadryl.  I finally got up for more than 15 minutes around 2pm.  I'm about to take another Benadryl (it says I can take like six in a 24-hours period, so stop looking at me like I am a Benny junkie, gah!).  My tits and stomach are itching.  Boo.

So, the question is, was it the mold spores in the air, or was the most wonderful BBQ place in all of Austin smoking their brisket with cedar?  See why I can't exactly test for that without trying to send myself to the hospital as well?  Do I dare eat the remainder of my meaty sandwich?  Help!