Sick As A What?!
Right now I'm fighting my stomach's urges to empty its' meagre contents all over the keyboard. Okay. That's not the prettiest picture, unless you're into that kind of thing.
I've tried to place the origin of this particular malaise. It was probably the dip that comprised the centrepiece of a raw veggie platter, served in the break-room at work to honour a recently departed colleague. (No, he didn't die...) I'm feeling like I am about to, however.
There are so many cliches I could use for my current state. Sick as a dog. Sick as a parrot, etc. I've rarely seen a dog get terribly ill, other than from the throes of old age, or a good puke from eating the lawn. Parrots living in good conditions can get up to a hundred years.
We really should dream up a new vernacular to describe this sort of thing. Say, sick as an ageing piece of roast beef that was left too long in the fridge and now has an unctuous sheen reminiscent of a rainbow and smells funny. Sick as the guy who tried to drink a draino martini? Sick as the old lady who lived down the street, until an ambulance took her away and we never saw her again. How about the (soon to be) ever popular sick as a pheasant?

Current Mood: Urrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppphhhhhhhhhoooooossssssssshhhh!