irony

Chicken clubs have officially struck out and are out of the game. The other night Merissa and Steph both ordered them from Montana's, and not only were they bland, Steph almost choked on a bone. Yesterday when we were at Swiss Chalet I thought the chicken club sounded tasty and delicious, so I ordered it. It was bland, and since (I know, I'm weird) I'm not a fan of swiss chalet bbq sauce, I added the ever-so-flavourful mayo for my tastebuds' delight. It worked, the wrap was successfully enjoyed and life went on. Until 4:00 this morning when I woke up in pain. I proceeded to the bathroom where the contents of my stomach found their way back up through my mouth. And kept coming and kept coming and kept coming. So not pleasant. I hate food poisoning. So at 4:15 when the puking finally ceased (I wasn't kidding about the "and kept coming" part) I tried to flush the toilet, and it would not flush. I clogged it with puke. Sick! And now I don't feel like telling the rest of the story because details aren't pleasant and I've already forced this unpleasant experience on you too much. Oh yeah, I was gonna explain why it was ironic, sorta. Only because we had been talking about food poisoning at dinner earlier while I was eating said chicken club wrap. Ok, enough of the gross story. I'm feeling a lot better now by the way. Not 100% but much improved.