For those of you who were wondering, no, I'm not dead. I just have lacked the motivation to blog regularly these days. Its not that I haven't had worthwhile thoughts to share, it just that all those thoughts get put down in my papers, so I'm to lazy to share them here. So instead, I will choose to relate to you a story that happened to me a couple weeks back, which is more humorous than anything.
The story all begins one Sunday night, as a group of us were returning from a worship service at a church across the city. Being guys, naturally our first thought was of food, so we decided to pick a C-train stop and find a place to eat. We had neglected to consider just how cold it was that night. The wind went through us like a hockey player goes through the Calgary Flames' defense. As I would shortly discover, the wind was not the only thing about to go right through me that night.
So anyways, after nearly succumbing to frostbite, we finally stumbled into a warm Boston Pizza. Now there is something you should know about me and BP's: there is something in the food there that gets along with my bowels about as well as George Bush gets along with Saddam Hussein (I'm just full of great metaphors tonight!). Just keep that fact in mind throughout this story.
Our meal was great, I had a buffalo chicken sandwich with fries and a Pepsi. Good times were had by all. After the meal, it was time to begin the long and arduous trek back to the transit station, which was farther away than any of us would have liked. We had walked about two blocks when I felt a pain in my lower intestines similar to being stabbed with a trident. This was not good, and made walking even more difficult. As the station came in sight, we realized that we had to run to catch the train and avoid further freezing of our limbs. We were freezing faster than an American in Canada. Needless to say, I brought up the rear, having considerable difficulty. I think I must have resembled a penguin trying to run; a 215 pound penguin in a giant winter jacket. Somehow I miraculously made it down the long flight of stairs and into the station, where we caught the train.
My situation only got worse once on the train. With every bump and stop, the pressure increases. I had more pressure built up inside of me than Mt. St. Helen's just before it exploded, only without the clouds of ash. Finally it came time to transfer trains. At this point I honestly could not stand up, and was doing my best impression of the Hoover Dam holding back the floodwaters. I almost cried at the thought of having to stay on the train and miss our stop. Just after the train came to a complete stop, I heard a couple gurgles in my duodenum (part of the small intestine, for those of you who never took biology), and was able to shuffle to the next train. By the time we reached the end of the line, my inconsiderate friends were out of control with laughter at my expense. My one roommate laughed so hard that he vomited all over the train platform. To make a long story slightly less long, I eventually made it back to my apartment (where we have the softest toilet paper in res!) and put an end to my misery. The song Eruption by Van Halen would have been a fitting soundtrack.
