Eat Me, Drink Me

I want to admit something today: I have given myself food poisoning. I know, I know, you must be thinking that I'm a really bad cook - or a really dirty one - but you would be wrong, I am in fact, I really low-energy hostess with bad vision when I first wake up.

You see, the worst case I ever had was after I had thrown myself my 25th birthday party at my apartment. I served fried chicken, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and appetizers. I had 15 guests, and we laughed and reminisced and drank and ate. There were large serving bowls of food everywhere; when my guests left I was exhausted and fell asleep on my couch - all of those serving bowls of leftover food still in the dining room. It was 3am.

When I awoke, it was about 3pm the next day and I was starving. I picked up a piece of chicken from the serving platter and took a bite, then I picked up a cob of corn and took a bite. I walked to the kitchen, poured myself a drink, and walked back to the living room. By the time I reached the couch, I had experienced a pain I never felt in my life. I was sweating and my stomach was cramping so bad I couldn't stand up straight. It was like Mike Tyson was giving me body blows. I collapsed on the couch and passed out. 2 hours later I woke up still sweating. I struggled off the couch and staggered to the table. The chicken still looked and smelled fine, but when I picked up the corn, there was bright blue mold all over the sweet yellow kernels. There was the culprit, so obvious now that I was actually paying attention.

And so people, I nearly killed myself with food, have you?

Tomorrow, I'm A Donkey. . .