So I go to Loeb’s for a barbecue. Hirsch marinates the chicken in, ecchhh, don’t even want to say it, here. Which I’m allergic to. Not deadly, just enough to make me right uncomfortable.
I don’t really give a fuck. I know how to guide my body through it by now. So I just stayed at the little party for another hour, abouts. Felt alright, I could feel my body releasing histamines to fight that damnable nut, and taking much blood from my brain. I felt very incapable of conversation after a while and biked home. I don’t much mind being that level of sick. It’s like an altered state. It feels almost high. Sorry to write this Tha, but I did smoke some weed to ease my nausea, which it does well.
When I was little my throat used to close up and my parents tell me that sucked. One time when I was 14 I ate this motherfucking egg-roll at the Mall. Tino and I were walking back to school when I passed the fuck out on somebody’s lawn. Near my friend Nick’s, so we walked over there and I passed the fuck out in his living room. Then the ambulance came and took me to the hospital. I still remember that scratchy red sweater I was wearing, with a bunch of fall leaves stuck too it from where I fell. So yeah, that sucked. Now my body is tougher and I just have to barf once, sleep, and I feel better. Which is what I did.
Came home, barfed up just enough of my dinner to feel better and fell dead asleep on the futon. Woke up cause people kept calling me… Shannon to check if I was alive, which was nice. So I’m alive and well. No thanks to Thailand. They’re terrorists, I tell you.
Here‘s some info on allergies if you want to learn more. I can’t even read that damnable word anymore.