Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Chocolate Boogers

I literally ate until I puked yesterday.

To understand the full story, we need to go back a bit.

About a month ago I was in Minden for my sister's graduation and went to the doctor. When I got weighed, I tipped the scales at 207.

There is absolutely no way for someone my height to gracefully carry around 207 pounds, so i decided to lose some weight.

I got serious about it a couple of weeks ago. Aside from spending time on the treadmill everyday, i was dodging the urge to snack by eating small meals more often.

Oatmeal for breakfast around 8 or 9. A sandwich at 11. At 1 p.m., a sandwich and some fruit. A couple of hours later, one of those healthy fruit cereal bars. Then a normal dinner at night and maybe some fruit before bed after my run.

Despite history telling me it wasn't going to happen, I decided that i was going to maintain that discipline when i went to courtney's folks' for Father's Day.

I made myself drink a couple of bottles of water before I had my first beer. Then I would rotate between beer and water.

But then the food happened.

It started out harmlessly enough with a quick bite of spinach dip. But then I kept eating it. Then i had a few bites from a couple of other different appetizers.

Then there was a break. Then the real food came.

I went into the kitchen to make my plate. I looked at my plate, then looked at all the food in front of me.

"This is going to be a two-plater, i believe," I told Courtney's uncle.

"yep."

So i take a little potato salad, and a little corn casserole, and a spoonfull of barbeque beans, and small piece of sausage, and a chicken breast and a couple of ribs and a piece of bread and go outside to eat.

Everything was delicious. Courtney's dad recommended i try a chicken leg. So after finishing my plate, i went inside, planning on getting a chicken leg.

Courtney is in there at the same time i am, and sees me pass up the corn casserole she made in favor of more barbeque beans. She guilts me into adding the corn to my plate. I grab a chicken wing and somehow manage to talk myself into three more ribs and another piece of bread (my guess is the beer was working harder than the water at this point).

Somehow i manage to finish off everything, but am not a very happy camper (despite the delicious food).

I sort of exist for a little bit. just hanging around not doing much of anything, although i'm pretty sure i'm going into shock.

Then they bring out the gelato.

I'm about halfway through a beer when they start serving. Mmmm, beer and ice cream. I was not happy.

Despite much of the day being a blur, i remember very clearly what i was thinking as courtney and her mom were passing out dessert. and i still don't understand how it could so obviously conflict with the rational side of my brain.

"ooh, I want a waffle cone because it's bigger, and she better put gelato in the whole thing and not just one scoop on top of the cone."

Ask and ye shall receive.

I knew about 20 seconds in that it was not in my best interest to finish the entire cone. I knew 12 seconds in that i was, in fact, going to eat the entire cone.

Shortly after finishing it, I walked inside and ran into courtney.

"what are you doing?" she asks.

"Pretty sure I'm going to throw up."

She says something dismissive, and i lie down on the living room floor. Not a good idea.

I get back up quickly and walk into the bathroom downstairs. I hung out there for a second, and decided that i didn't want to hurl where everybody was using the bathroom. So i scurried upstairs.

I paced around the bathroom for a bit, with no action beyond the occasional burp. I went and sat outside the bathroom and zoned out for about 10 minutes. Then i try lying down, and rediscover that changing positions is not good for the ol' stomach.

Courtney comes and finds me.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to throw up."

At this point, most people would want to throw up just to feel better. I, however, do not have that luxury.

When I throw up, it's violent. I'm talking burst-blood-vessels-in-my-face-and-eyeballs violent. People usually can't stand to look at me for a couple of days after i puke because my eyes are bloodshot and i look like i have a rash on my face.

It had been almost 3.5 years to the day since the last time I had thrown up. It was after my college graduation party. I'm pretty sure it was either caused by a bad appetizer or the Crown on the rocks i was double fisting through most of the party.

I was doing everything in my power to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

I went back outside and took a seat.

Someone else had arrived at the party and i stood up to shake his hand, getting woozy in the process. He then lifted the lid to the trashcan to throw away his plate and i got a big whiff of barbeque sauce.

Good night nurse.

I try not to make a scene and double-time it into the house. Courtney follows me in.

Whatareyoudoing?Whatareyoudoing?Whatareyoudoing?Whatareyoudoing?

Without looking back i just snap my fingers. My little way of saying, yes, i hear you, but if i open my mouth the next sound you hear will most definitely not be English.

I make it upstairs, open the toilet and ralph something that looked like half-digested chocolate ice cream. I don't know if that's a simile or not, since it really was half-digested chocolate ice cream.

Courtney, ever faithful, comes into the bathroom. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just threw up. Wasn't so bad, don't think i broke anything in my face."

She takes a look and agrees. Then a second wave hit.

"Um, you might want to leave."

Then second round was a little more like i was used to. Including one of those things where you spasm and the next batch comes up while you're still puking the first batch, so it's like you're throwing up two different throw ups at the same time.

I have one last barf--this one was splattery--then try to start cleaning up.

Courtney comes in.

"man," i say, "I don't think i could handle having an eating disorder."

Then I stand up. And i feel great.

"Wait, I think i could handle an eating disorder. This is awesome."

Of course, I had the usual post-vomit breathing problems. so i grab a kleenex to try to clear stuff out.

I take a look and the kleenex is brown. How cool is that?

"Sweet, chocolate boogers. Hey, Courtney, look, i've got chocolate boogers."

And they all lived happily ever after.