I had almost an entire week where I didn't feel like that stray antelope on Animal Planet. You know, the sickly, limping one at the back of the pack that will undoubtedly get picked off my a cheetah before the end of the episode. For four glorious days I thought I might live to see 2013. (Unless the Mayans were right. Then I'm going to be pissed I spent my last days coughing, running a fever, puking, etc, etc.) Surprise, surprise! [To be read in Gomer Pyle's voice] I'm sick again.
I got a prescription for some antibiotics, and put my car on autopilot to the pharmacy. I didn't think I was a stupid person. (Spoiler alert: I was wrong!) I know you have to take antibiotics with food or you will puke out your stomach. I was stuffing myself like that Asian dude who wins all the food eating contests and I was just getting increasingly nauseated with every dose. The other day, as I was fighting with the childproof cap that only children can open, I noticed this label clearly printed on the bottle.
Fuck my stupid ass! I shouldn't be allowed to do anything without adult supervision.
Then I read further...
Hold the phone. I didn't sign up for that.
At least I'm halfway through with the bottle, and then I don't have to worry about potential explosive bowel movements anymore.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!! Are you telling me I could be in line at the Target in July and suddenly shit my pants?!!!
This is a startling development. I need to know how long I have this ticking time bomb in me. Obviously there will be no more Chipotle until months from now. That would just be asking for complications. Do I need to wear an astronaut diaper for the foreseeable future? How did researchers even determine this side effect? Were there a rash of soiled people in the ER stating it HAD to be the antibiotic they took four months ago, and not the questionable gyro they ate for lunch? I kind of have a lot on my plate right now, and I certainly don't have time for the ramifications of shitting myself in public. I could possibly work in a private shitting, but a public one is not an option.
This subject is really Jenny Jerkface's forte. I haven't a clue as to how to end this, so I'm just going to slink quietly off, my back to the wall in case of emergency. Happy end of the weekend.