I guess it’s kind of unfortunate when the painkillers I take to make my back feel better don’t seem to make much of a difference to the whole back pain thing, but at least they make me nauseous so I have something to distract me from it. I mean, thank goodness for that!

There’s something about nausea itself that’s infinitely worse than actually throwing up. Not that I’m all that fond of the whole vomit thing in general, but really - if I’m going to do it, I’d like to get it the hell over with so I can brush my teeth and move on rather than spending hours with that dentist’s-office-waiting-room sort of dread. I guess some people feel the same way about sore throats, but they don’t bother me as much feeling like my stomach is a dumbass dog trying to catch its own tail.

Every time I get queasy, I’m not only experiencing my current discomfort but reliving all these pleasant selected scenes from my past - puking over the side of a whale watch boat when I was six, endless carsick cab rides home over the God Damned Bridge, that winter I got food poisioning three times in as many months. Ah, memories.