Toxic fish? I fart in your general direction…pussies! If you really want to fucking poison yourself, go with 250mg of erythromycin every 6h for 3 days, and about 2L of cheap wine in…uh…I dunno…maybe 3h? Chuck in an entertaining Swedish distraction, just to make sure you don’t realise just how fast you’re sucking back stuff that’s half a step above MD 20/20 and half a step below purple drank. Jesus Christ, I still don’t feel quite right, and that was Friday night. Never a-fucking-gain. Fuck the antibiotics; I’m not taking any more because I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it. I don’t care, my immune system will just have to sack up and do what it’s supposed to do. I got physically sick Friday night and again Saturday morning (midway through breakfast, no less, which made scrambled eggs and toast a whole lot less appealing), then spent all of Saturday nauseous-ly (it’s a word…now) shuffling between the bed and my desk (a distance of approximately 1m) in a blue satin night dress and my pink bear feet slippers, with a headache that felt as though a small man with a grudge and a jackhammer had positioned himself directly behind my left eye. I didn’t even manage to get showered and dressed until somewhere around 1900h and had to get P to pick up some Tylenol for me because we were out and I couldn’t keep Aspirin down. Apparently not understanding that I was giving serious consideration to dying of sheer misery, P. brought me a glass of wine last night, and I did try to drink it (without breathing, since the smell was making me gag), but one was all I could do; even that made me feel worse. Sorry, ol’ drinking partner pal, but I’m not willing to die for you. I think I was in bed by 2300h, though I’d slept off and on most of the day and wasn’t tired…just felt horrible. Today was marginally better–hey, at least I didn’t throw up (yay)–but holy fuck, Batman. Never, ever again. God damn. I haven’t had antibiotics of any kind for years, but never had that much trouble with erythromycin before. Then again, I don’t recall ever having washed it down with half a gallon of cheap wine before. If I did, this didn’t happen because no fucking way would I forget. I don’t think I could take on a dedicated binge-drinker, but I have a reasonable tolerance for alcohol–hell, I drank Purple Jesus when the recipe still involved any leftover “normal” booze, Bacardi 151, Everclear sneaked in from AB and a plastic trash bin–and can’t even remember the last time I drank enough to end up praying at the porcelain altar, let alone sick for two days afterwards. I didn’t remember too much of what I’d said to L., but the next morning, he told me enough that I’m actually grateful I don’t remember. I sort of recall saying some off-colour things, but he’s used to that, I guess, so just one or two things I should have STFU about. Thank Christ I was talking to him and not some random whomever; he’s 99.99% unshockable, and wouldn’t repeat a word of anything I said at anything short of gunpoint. He’s a really good guy…parallel universe and all that.