If I had to describe my mood right now, it would be “BLARRRRRRGGGbsfnsjhalafeljgdlg blehhhhhhhhh”. Translated into coherent words, I made a poor dinner choice and now I’m essentially dying.
My friend Justin told me to suck it up and take medicine like an adult. To that, I said: 
I hate having an upset—upset being used loosely, like gran-gran’s wrist skin loosely—stomach, but I loathe the thought of taking Tums or Pepto. I just don’t see how anything that tastes like gravel could quell the insurrection taking place in my intestines. Sure, it would be much more logical for me to just take the medicine. That’s too easy. Where’s the glory? I’ll tell you. There is none.
No, in order for there to be glory, you must suffer through like a CHAMP. Medicine? Pffft, that’s for wussies. Champions tell their tummy aches to STFU. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. That, or end up hurking my brains out in the middle of the night. Most likely, it won’t be the latter because that would be too easy. Plus, I’m a classy lady. Classy ladies don’t hurk.
