Posted by humanchimp
on Tue 10 Jul 07, 5:19 AM to humanchimp's blog.
Day 1
Once again I'm hunched over the bowl of the toilet not sure whether to piss, shit, vomit or cry.
I have never felt so fucking awful in my entire existence.
The disabling stomach cramps only relent at the briefest moments to allow me the pleasure of chucking up a mixture of bodily fluids and blood. Then when that pretty saga is over the stomach cramps return and I have to 180 my arse onto the toilet before I pebble dash the white tiles of the bathroom floor.
Even my testicles ache! I think my body is deliberately pushing the pain further and further from my brain so I won't have a stroke and start finding a deeper meaning to that cheeky girls song about… You know... Them being the cheeky and all.
I never wrote a will. I don't have much but I want it all to go to my Sister.
I'm never going to that fucking curry house again.
Day 2
I've always said that the only two things that would be left standing after a nuclear war would be me and the cockroaches.
But I think even the cockroaches may have rolled over and died after spending eighteen hours hugging a toilet bowl with the essence of vomit and diarrhoea penetrating the nostrils.
All I have to amuse myself is watching the pretty patterns my swirl is creating whilst trying to recall the last time I ate carrots as they seem to be the only line of continuity from both ends in this whole ordeal.
My breath tastes of dead spinach.
I think I've developed nappy rash.
I sip water and a pint tumbles out.
I've got to go to work, it's going to be fucking agony.
I don't want to die in a bed.
I want to die by collapsing and tumbling in front of a bus load of nuns. I want my autopsy to state “slipping on a banana skin in public”, I want to go saving orphans from an Earthquake or whilst wearing a Batman costume and driving a Harley off of Mount Everest whilst on fire.
I want it to be dramatic.
If I'm going to die it's not going to be in this lonely looking bathroom with my head down the throne.
If food poisoning is destined to be my demise then I'm choosing the fucking location.
Collapsing in front of twenty naked glamour models two minutes before going live on air will do the trick.
“Here lies the Humanchimp. He died surrounded by the largest breasts ever seen on God's great Earth.”
I didn't die… Just nearly shat myself before I went on air.
After spending the next eight hours doing ten minute shifts between the toilet and the studio trying to dictate the show whilst wondering when the carrot I ate when I was three years old would come back to haunt me.
It ended, I lived.
I went home to sleep.
I lied in bed for the first time in forty-eight hours.
Like a foetus but more intense. Holding my stomach and wishing the pain would go and bother one of my worst enemies.
Please don't shit the bed.
Day 3
The pain is finally retreating, the cramps only strikes every hour or so and the vomiting has gone. The diarrhoea makes a cameo appearance now and again but I once again defy the odds and say “fuck you” to being sick.
I decided to medicate myself and drink a Guinness to add iron and repaint my stomach.
It feels good, I even dare to look into the mirror.
I look at myself expecting to see a corpse on legs but…
My stomach is ripped too fuck.
That is one hell of a six pack I'm carrying.
My arms are still muscular and my face looks a little more chiselled. The zombie mask has been lost and the rigimortus snow white look I'd been carrying over the weekend has taken a bus home.
My hair has that messy look that no amount of gel can ever capture.
The colour is back in my cheeks and I look fucking beautiful.
Maybe this food poisoning lark isn't all that bad.
I mean plastic surgery takes a lot longer to recover from.
I may have to get a take out from that curry house next month.
| 10 Jul 07, 9:22 AM Rev_Birch UK, 4 yrs |
Yes, life is strange (an understatement). Take death: some people survive the most horrific injuries and yet a person may fall, bang their head against something and be dead in a moment. You hoped (presumably) for a tasty curry and you got hell. I on the other hand tried something on two separate occasions which ought to mean I am not here now - I drank half a pint of decocted yew juice and another time ate 40 crushed yew berries. I had not so much as a tummy twinge never mind death. Obsessed by women's buttocks and thighs in skin-tight scruffy, worn-out denim jeans. Backsides ripe for the cane. Come to me for mind-blowing pain, gain, relief, pleasure and fulfillment. REVEREND BIRCH |
| 10 Jul 07, 9:23 AM Kassandra UK(EH), 7 yrs |
Glad you are feeling a bit better as food poisoning isn't funny. Only had it once and the doc tried to give me antibiotics via a suppository. Think that scene in trainspotting and that's where they would have ended up. Give yourself time to recover. Lots of fluid( NOT alcohol) and light foods and no heavy meals for a week or so. Little and often. Plenty of rest too.
Yeah it's a great way to lose a stone in 3 days.....but trust me it soon goes back on "You could have a change of heart if you would only change your mind" |
| 10 Jul 07, 9:36 AM Miss_Hardy UK(E), 5 yrs   |
Damn it, I wanted mook when you died.  The Finest Looking Piece Of Ass On Informed Consent (ha ha) - The Hierophant |
| 10 Jul 07, 5:00 PM humanchimp 7 yrs |
no mook will be buried with me whether he is alive or not I still want my rock stars dead |
| 25 Jul 07, 10:28 PM Miss_Hardy UK(E), 5 yrs |
You're just plain wrong. mook shall be mine! The Finest Looking Piece Of Ass On Informed Consent (ha ha) - The Hierophant |
