This is how my week has gone…
What I thought was a case of the temporary food icks has turned into a battle of willIeverwanttoeatsolidfoodeveragain-itis? On the upside though, I have lost a few pounds. Not exactly how I would recommend doing so, but I always like to look for the good in everything. Even when I feel like I’m leaving internal organs all over the southeastern United States.
Which brings me to the question: why is it when your stomach is off, it feels like life as you know it is over?
As I boarded this curiosity train, I went where every good blogger goes to research life’s major queries: Google and Bing. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find anything that directly answered the question? And if there’s anything that makes me crazy, it’s when I can’t get a direct answer to a direct question.
In an effort to alleviate my irritation at the lack of available information to my more than simplistic poser, and to also ignore the climbing level of seemingly carbonated alien juice that I’m convinced has taken up residence without even bothering to pay rent, I decided to just throw out my own theory on the whole matter. Fair warning – the dollars are whipping around at light speed so you better grab your bottle of antacid and hang on.
The most common reasons given for stomach upset include food poisoning, overindulgence, medication side effects, and stress. I, on the other hand, have another explanation. Hang on. Here we go. Ready?
That’s it. The whole monty. The whole kit and kaboodle. The Black Dog reason for why the world suffers from a life-sucking case of gastronomical upset. Seriously. How can you see one of these things and NOT feel some kind of Stephen King-like inspired queasiness? Now, that’s not to say there’s not some good, kind, non-nausea inducing clowns out there. I just haven’t seen any.
You may think I suffer from a major case of coulrophobia. Perhaps I do. That being said, dont’cha think it’s a little bit odd that someone even came up with a name for it??? There’s even an entire museum dedicated to those of the red nose bearing, white face laden persuasion here in Florida. An ENTIRE museum. Say it isn’t so.
So there you have it. What started out as a well-intentioned post about bad bellies took a right-hand turn into Catastrophic Clowndom. Such is the game show dollar machine brain the hubby and Wonder Mutt have to live with.
Next time your paths cross with those of the painted-face populace, take my advice – grab the closest bottle of pink stuff, look them directly in the eye and honk your own nose. It’ll completely freak them out. Seriously. I’ve seen it happen.
Enjoy the ride.
Do clowns freak YOU out?