2005-11-16 19:40:15 ET|
So rather than go to class today, I went to see Jarhead, which was fantabular, and managed to somehow get sick during the movie due to eating chocolate and a bosc pear.
I do not know how this worked. My tummy hates me.
To add insult to injury, after seeing off the amazing and illustrious D-Bag, who convinced me to ditch, I went to Clarke's on Belmont, and ate chicken-tacos.
Needless to say, I have been trying to remove my guts via my mouth for the rest of the evening, particularly after a quasi-fight with the guy I love, which I still don't understand. Unfortunately, after he stormed off because I told him I was hurt in a not-nice manner, I realized that I couldn't stand up due to being too damn nauseous. Couldn't yell for him, either, without throwing up, which made me feel entirely powerless and incredibly scared, because I was sitting in a back alley trying not to empty myself into the snow.
After like 2 minutes, a security gent asked me to leave, worrying that I was drunk, and I managed to try to walk to the train to find my angel-boy...he'd already left. Damn.
So, yes. Walked in spurts to the nearest warm place I could and called the only ex I know who lives in the area and could get me somewhere safe, which was the Slayer boy, whom I don't like much, but who was kind enough to take me to his house, let me throw up until I was done, cleaned me up, and drove me home, much to my dad's surprise and curiosity.
This is how dad found out I skipped class, and everything else spilled out too, and he wants to know where angel-boy was, and I said "On the train home." This turned out to be a mistake.