So I'm here now in Amsterdam- Day 2. I want to tell you about some crazy psychedelic adventure or a random hobo who shared with me the meaning of life.... But instead I'll tell you what really happened.
Some of you may know that I have always had a sort of love/hate relationship with Paris. No, actually, a hate/hate relationship. Paris and I just don't get along. I feel weird there and I swear the boys don't check me out and I just can't get it right. However, my dad was there, and of course I wanted to visit with him, so I went. We had a magical/gluttonous couple days, and I felt like the Parisian curse had finally been broken; I felt like she really started to warm up to me. NO.
When I got to Amsterdam, I basically just went to sleep, and when I woke up, I was A MESS! I couldn't eat, my stomach was all churny, my head was pounding, I couldn't even drink water, I was bed-ridden, a chaplain read my last rites, I went on a Saltine-Only Diet, I prepared my will, I sent in my absentee ballot, I was in & out of the bathroom for various reasons, I contemplated the meaning of life as I fought off the blackness engulfing me, I blinded myself from the white light- PARIS FOOD POISONED ME!!!!
And you know what? I don't even know why I'm surprised. OF COURSE that French Bitch had the last laugh.....
-H*
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paris can be quite a skeezy hoebag, right? but you're surely in the right place to get ahold of medicinal agents which will keep your food down. and speaking of not keeping food down- remember that bit on the tour about the 'miracle of amsterdam'? what a bizarre story
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