And for once, I was stone cold sober...
During a bout of Norovirus, I managed to pull all the muscles in my neck while trying to do a sick out of my mouth and arse simultaneously. I further added to the indignity of the situation by then sicking up a perfect facsimile of the last meal I had eaten, a roast dinner, onto my right knee cap.

I spent the remainder of the evening huddled in a disgusted, putrid heap on the bathroom floor praying for death and the following two weeks only able to eat a diet that even Gillian McKeith would find a bit restrictive.

Even now, the smell of roast pork triggers an involuntary gag reflex and I've developed an aversion to carrots.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 15:09, Reply)