So I go on this date Friday. A lunch date. Meet the woman in a bar near my studio and decide to go across the street to an Indian restaurant; Friday buffet... Conversation, compliments, food, more conversation. I had had a headache all morning and now it was making me a little queasy (a migraine coming on?). Well, long story short, in my head the clip of George Herbert Bush ( my patron President of Vomitting) hurling into the lap of the Japanese Premier kept looping. I coolly excused myself (I'm always cool before I hurl) and went to the mens room to loose my lunch. I don't think my date was none the wiser. I was concerned, however about just what the hell was going on with me.
Today I feel a little steadier. But still have some nausea whenever I think of real food. The fatty, baked thing this morning stayed down, thank you.
Aren't you glad I'm blogging?
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