Be Careful What You Wish For....

OMFG! Remember how I was all telling you guys how I was wishing for some sort African wasting disease so that I could lose weight and be all svelte, but then I was really pissed off because I seemed to be immune to it and how I was lamenting that I even though I might have dranken (drunken? drink-ed?) right out of the Nile and NOTHING happened again!? Remember that?

I'm here to tell you (just barely at this point, and am actively wishing for death right now to put me out of my misery) that I was WRONG. I DO NOT want this African wasting disease, food poisoning or Glass o'Nile Gripe....I was WRONG! I should have known better than to let Africa touch me! OMFG!!

I think I have determined the source of my problem: I ate the shrimp. Now I know, previously I went on and on about how for all intents and purposes, Khartoum is pretty much landlocked - no matter that the Nile runs right through it - and then I went to visit Port Sudan and even though I could see the sea, I was still wary of eating the sea food. (I'm a stickler for preservatives you guys! I fully contend that God made them for a reason.)

However, after being here for going on five months now (wow, you'd totally thinking my bitching would have abated by now, wouldn't you! Go figure), I thought to myself, MAYBE I was overreacting a tad. Although you might not have noticed, I do tend to lean toward the dramatic and at times I can maybe make a bigger deal out of stuff than is actually needed.

I believe Paul told me that when he was talking to another guy at the Embassy, he mentioned that I was going to freak out when I heard what he had to tell me and that he would have to peel me off of the ceiling. The guy responded, "the ceiling is her favorite place in the room."

I KNOW! RUDE!! RIGHT?!?! However, he's got a point. It kinda IS my favorite place. Drama makes all my stories better. I'm like TNT - I know drama.

Anyway, last night I went to a dinner party. As I have mentioned before, dinner in Sudan starts no earlier than 10 pm and this one didn't start till like 1130!! (WTF SUDAN!) And I forgot to get a snack before I left (no, Josh, i have no idea how that happened either). Anyway, so when they finally served the food and I was filling my plate with a bunch of unidentified objects, I saw that they had a large bowl of shrimp (already peeled, which is my red line. I do not rip the carcass off of food). I talked myself into it with a "It's only an hour flight from Port Sudan. What could possibly go wrong??"

I will tell you what went wrong. I spent the whole day laying on my bed curled into a ball because if I move a shooting pain goes through my stomach - and God Help You, if you try to drink anything because it just makes it soo much worse - even though you didn't think it could even BE any worse - you realize that the previous pain was just the starter pain.

Dear GOD!

I promise you here and now I will stop trying to drink the Nile and researching where to find a non-gross tape worm. I will exercise and I will remember that being all hurtey from exercise is not even remotely as hurtey as the hurteyness from allowing Africa to touch you.

Today I have learned yet another valuable lesson. I really think, however, a simple email would do the same -- you know, send me a note, "Michel, stop being an ass and so lazy. Just get on the treadmill and drink the bottled water. Don't make me smote you."

I promise, from now on, I totally believe you!! Please, please, please let the smoting end.

Humbly yours typing with two fingers because it hurts to sit up straight,

Michel

PS I kinda want my mommy right now. Would you please send her here. My tummy hurts.

PPS Don't tell her where you are sending her, she has this thing about flying. Just tell her it is a bus.

PPPS, I'm not saying you should LIE to her, but maybe just let her sleep through the thing. I don't want her all cranky and fired up when she gets her.

PPPPS Please also let me know when her plane arrives. She would also not be pleased trying to get through customs without assistance. Sudanese customs officials are really cranky. I'm just saying, I know my mommy, it would get ugly.