"My tummy HATES me..."

This rather obscure gem from this movie gets repeated at casa del Meyer often...

Usually from its two older, more gastrointestinally-challenged-as-we-go-over-the-hill, inhabitants.

Tonight, it's me.

Peeeeeeeee-ew...poor Charlie Brown just watched a movie with me, and all of his nosehairs are now completely singed.

Not to mention that my gut is in that HORRIBLE, please-just-puke-already-it-will-feel-better-than-this stage. Yukka yukka.

It probably has nothing to do with the crap-load of Jason's Deli potato chips I kept shoveling in as I frantically wrote THE. LAST. PAPER. for my class today - nahhh, no way.

Or the Taco Bell we ate for dinner.

Or my diet of late in general.

Why does everything have to culminate all at once? I mean, crap, spring cleaning is something I have to do, lest I go nuts, and the time for that is, uh, now. Grant season, in which the Boss and I go temporarily insane, is, uh, now. Finals are, uh, now upon me. What else? Oh, yeah, LMNOB and SID sittin' in a tree...oh, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? And then, all of the everyday ordinary stuff...meals, bills, marriage maintenance - screech go the checklist brakes!

Our last date night was two. months. ago. It feels like an eternity. And while we haven't had time to connect emotionally, I was thinking va-va-voom, until my innards decided to self-destruct.

Poor me. *sigh*