Baby, We Were Born to Run

My third daughter, Ariel, has been throwing up since one o’clock this morning, and I, praise the lord, have had the runs.

Oh, how I love winter. Just love the fuck to bits.

I can't wait till this bug hits everyone in my family! Six of us fighting for the bathroom. Six of us fighting for the puke pail.

I'm always curious about other families' puke pails. Ours, for instance, is a flesh-colored plastic bucket that we keep in the basement. When that bucket makes an appearance, we know torment is nigh.

There is nothing more sickening than to put one's face near a flesh-colored bucket that has had years of experience, which is why we use it -- the thing induces vomiting by its very nature, thus getting the sick out faster. Really, nausea is much, much worse than the actual yakking, in my humble opinion.

How about you? Tell me about your puke pail! What makes your puke pail special? Is it the history? The color? The shape and size? Is it the comforting lullabies it sings as you hurl?

The best puke pail story wins a fabulous prize, signed by me, the revolting yet fascinating Ms. Lori.

ADDENDUM: Joshie Boy wins the puke pail contest! Inspiring, touching, and nauseating as hell, Joshie has written the Puke Pail story to end all Puke Pail stories. The fact that he was the only freak to enter matters not one whit -- he's a winner through and through, and I'm proud to discover such talent in my midst. Send me your address, Joshie, and you will soon receive your FABULOUS PRIZE! Congratulations!

Please, round of applause, everyone!