Spike ,'The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
That food combo is giving me a stomach ache, and I didn't even eat it.
I should've monitored it better but was in a celebratory mood for last day of school plus championship team.
You can't always watch everything, and it is probably better that he learns to monitor himself sooner rather than later anyway.
Thanks, Perkins.
{{{Zenkitty}}} Memory issues are so difficult for everyone. Tons of ~ma to your family.
Much ~ma, Zenkitty.
it is probably better that he learns to monitor himself sooner rather than later anyway.
This is the second or third time I've let him loose in a party type situation and he's made himelf sick. Carnivals and birthday parties - danger!
We just cancelled. Fortunately his friend has another summery get-together on July 2nd, so they'll be able to hangout and have fun at the water park.
Hec, when I was pregnant with Owen, we went to a street fair in DH's hometown, I think I managed to eat a taco potato, two shish kabobs, an apple dumpling, a taco salad, a chocolate coated fruit kabob, a lemon shake up, an elephant ear and a carmel apple before I finally lost it all. No cotton candy, though.
Some people never learn that self-restraint.
This one will definitely feature "almost got shagged" somewhere.
definitely en fuego!
Maybe the psychic wasn't on crack about abundance coming my way eventually. Not that this may be it, but you have to walk before youi can run. Allegedly. On the other topic, my stomach is just wonky. Tends to make most carnival food Sophie's Choice.
Thanks, everyone. I appreciate it.
Poor Emmett. At least he got sick from something fun, though!
I don't want to work. I've been working for 12 days straight. My brain is fried.
Some people never learn that self-restraint.
I kind of fear for Emmett in this regard. He's gotten similarly sick --usually through some deadly combination of soda, ice cream, and hot dogs though sometimes just from more ice cream than one mere mortal who's still in the single digits should have to cope with -- more times than I can count, and I haven't even lived with him three whole years yet. And he's miserable with the sick when it happens, weeping and pale and breaking your heart with the extremity of his agony. And then, the next time the opportunity presents itself, he's begging for the Foods Of Death as though all his future happiness and fulfillment depended on getting them. He's incredibly bright and sensitive about so very much, but his gastronomic learning curve is a long flat line.