George Did It

What's even better than having to wake up at 4:30am?  Waking up at 3:30am to shit your brains out for a good thirty minutes.  Oh, yeah.  That really is the best.  So is having dull razorblades to slit my wrists with.

Now I'm left attempting to figure out what went so horribly wrong with my bowels this morning.  Was it the breakfast taco that CSP got for Emma's Mom and me when he was running late for our meeting (Yes, EM and I are cruel, and demand tacos for tardiness).  After all, there is an egg recall going on out there, and we did ask for breakfast tacos, which often come with eggs (though, I believe EM avoided this fate with a meat and bean taco).  Bravo for CSP for paying us back with salmonella.  Even if that meant poisoning himself, too. 

Or was it the Chipotle chicken burrito The Boy got me for dinner?  The chicken did taste a little funny, but not enough to make me stop eating the damn thing (and I have the last quarter to eat at work today--I'm suicidal like that [better than a dull razorblade?]).  I thought I wouldn't even be able to eat again after the breakfast taco.  CSP went to a taco truck (please say it was Triny's, because that is my favorite taco truck around town that I have never had the privilege of eating from), and those homemade, authentic tacos.  Dear lord it was so greasy delicious (Oh! Epiphany! Was it the grease from the taco and not the eggs?)  However, once someone introduces a burrito to me, I generally will want to eat it.  I'm rarely a glutton, but when it comes to burritos, I say "Please, may I have another?"

Then there's always George.  Good ol' faithful George.  This month as authentic as street food with all the punch and spice that goes along with it.  Thanks George for possibly making my body really really angry.  I'm going to go ahead and blame you even if it was the eggs or burrito (or both).  I hate you George, and I have to remind myself that the benefits of sterilization completely out way the negative of having you visit me every month, all bloody and needing a place to crash for a few days.  I know you really enjoy the amenities my uterus has to offer, but I truly wish you'd fuck off and die.  I know, I know.  I need to take it up with my ovaries.  Whatev. 

As I said, I'll keep blaming George until I have a good reason not to.