Gary came down to the reception area and I told him that story as I answered the phone. He said "He didn't barf here did he?" (meaning barf in the reception area). I assured him it didn't get to that point and even if it had, Marie would have done what every mom does and would have held out her two cupped hands and caught it before it hit the carpet. Of course, if this happens at home, you call your big family dog over to help clean up. We are by this time laughing with red faces, but Gary kicks it up a notch.
"Ya know, I used to have two big dogs and a cat and I never once had to clean out a litter box." He describes beautifully the way his dogs' ears would perk up at the sound of kitty litter being rearranged and raked and tossed around. The dogs would wait ever so patiently until the kitty emerged from her throne, then race to get the homemade delicacies.
I ask him if they then raced back to him to lick his face and thank him for providing them with their own special little chef. Gary's eyes start to glaze over and I think maybe I'm going to have to hold out my two cupped hands for him at this point. He's laughing, but he's backing away from me out the door into the lobby. Was it something I said? He shakes a finger at me, squints his eyes and groans with a smile and he's gone.
Why is it that everybody has a funny vomit story? Why is it that vomit stories usually come up at the dinner table? The kids and I once heard someone refer to vomit as "lumpy gravy"...so that phrase is pretty much all it takes to set us off at dinner somewhere. One year during the office Thanksgiving pot luck, someone told a vomit story and before it was all said and done we made it a requirement that you had to tell a vomit story before you could sit in our area for lunch. Guess what? Nobody even hesitated...and nobody stopped eating throughout probably fifteen horrifically graphic, sound effect-laden narratives of wet, smelly, projectile hell.
"Let's just say, there were lime jello shots involved!"But on a serious note, let me just say this...it really really sucks to be the only person in your household with an iron stomach. This trait just means you are the one that gets to clean up every single disgusting pile or puddle that happens. This is reason enough to limit the number of pets and kids you decide to have. It is reason enough to look forward to living alone!
"Really delicious spinach casserole. Y'all should try some."
"And so my buddy made this strange noise then just blew beets down the back of the front seat and down the back of my head! We had to hose out the car before we took him home."
"Ugh ha ha ha ha"
"Did y'all try the creamed corn? Who made that? It's really good"
"We were fishing and he was just chumming the water and lost it. He puked the rest of the trip."
"Can somebody pass me the gravy?"
There have been times in my life that I wished I had hazardous waste protective clothing and a wet vac -- goggles, gloves, jumpsuit and a respirator -- now you're talking! With two kids, a weak stomached spouse, two to five cats and a shit-eatin' dog, I sometimes wanted to upchuck myself just to see if anyone would notice. I knew, however, I would have to clean up after myself or get a whole cycle of throw up started again. Here are some facts that I've become aware of over the years:
- Kids only barf in the middle of the night, and they can always make it to your bedside before they do.
- Cats only barf at night as well so always feed your cat dry food and throw them outside before you go to bed.
- Dogs can have digestive problems at any time given the fact that they eat, well, cat crap, used kleenex, long grass and their own bedding, so always get up quick if your dog is panting or whining, or if he stands up and starts making that hollow, heaving, obviously-about-to-blow sound.