Poisoned at Work

Good evening. Right now, I'm just happy to be not bent over and wretching. They ordered pizza for us at work today, and I thought, "wow, cool deal - free pizza on a Friday!". Little did I know that I was gonna get poisoned by what was probably some bad ricotta cheese on what was supposed to have been a white pizza. I should have known something was up because I never saw white pizza with tomatoes and basil on it (FWIW, that's a margherita pizza, folks).

Even BEFORE that, I should have been suspicious of any pizza that comes in boxes bearing advertisements for Manhattan mini storage.

The funny thing is, as I was eating the offending pizza my taste buds were sending up flares to my brain, trying in vain to warn me that something was amiss. But you know how it is...you see everyone else eating the pizza, so you rationalize that it MUST be OK. And hey, it's free, right? So I eat it anyway.

Twenty minutes later, I'm starting to feel some rumblings down below. Thirty minutes later, I knew I was in serious trouble. If not for being alone at work, I would have bolted right then. But I stuck it out until 6PM, and on the way home suddenly found myself in a moving bus restroom throwing up a Volkswagen van. I think I left my spleen in there.

Thankfully, here I am, a little over six hours later, and I'm alive and NOT hurling projectiles anymore. The lesson to be learned here is two-fold: if something doesn't taste right, down't eat it. In addition, unless you pizza comes in a white box with a stereotypical drawing of an Italian chef saying "You've tried all the rest, now try the best"...DON'T EAT IT.

Speedy Alka Seltzer, I love you.