girlfriend went on a girl's weekend. i vowed, simply because i could, to give up all forms of personal hygiene for the weekend, with the exception of tooth-brushing. thursday morning was the last instance of bathing. i omitted underarm deoderant. thursday evening i was sweating a lot, having spent a good chunk of happy hour in the bright sunlight. i really started to notice my own scent. friday i went to a party. there was lots of alcohol there. and some other things. i proceeded to drink plenty, but not to the point where i going to get sick. or so i thought. it's a good thing my friend volunteered to drive me home without delay, because if i'd waited for a cab, i would have painted it. i get home, come inside, and immediately begin to feel the urge. i run upstairs, vomiting in my own mouth in the bathroom entryway, but in a classy way, saving the main payload for porcelain. and oh did it bloom. true projectile vomiting. i was pleased with myself for aiming so well, despite the fact that my head was several feet from the toidy. when i woke up the next morning, i didn't feel so bad. then i went into the bathroom... minor puke spray in the bathroom entry. then the toilet. not just the toilet, but everything around it - walls and all - was covered in puke, with the olive tapenade adding some nice color. i went downstairs, thinking that i'd clean the mess up later. stumbling through the kitchen, i immediately walked through a big pile of cat puke. after rinsing my toes, i returned to the kitchen, and felt a fart coming on. it wasn't just air. not a full dump in the pants, but some definite squishiness. i did the clench and waddle to the bathroom, and fortunately, there was no spillage outside the cheeks. thank god. if there had been, i'd have been forced to shower. i spent the rest of the day shitting my guts out. no incidents today, but i smell like a pack of goats. it took about a half hour to clean all the puke off the upstairs bathroom. shortly, i will go shower. it may take a while.