Friday, July 8, 2011

My Favorite Puke Story

Because that's what my blog is about now, puke.  And in 6 or so months (It's my 3rd - so I don't even really know when I'm due, so whatever) it will be about poop again.  And then once our last (our LAST - are picking up on my subtle cues world and grandparents?) is potty trained then my blog will fade away into obscurity because I have no fresh bodily fluids to entertain you all with.

So anyways, I think I'll take this opportunity to talk about my favorite puke story.

I was pregnant with Ashlyn, so that kind of makes it an older story.  But the newer stories aren't my favorite yet because they're too fresh in my mind.  If I can remember that yesterday's Chipotle lunch stained my carpet, then it's not my favorite story yet.  

So I was working as a student manager at the BYU Hawaii cafeteria.  I remember stumbling into the office that morning (6AM to be exact) with a bowl of rice.  I sat on the floor.  It was 45 minutes later (yes, I was still sitting there - the joys of being in charge!) when I knew I was going to puke.  I looked around for a trash can.  There weren't any.  What the freaking heck?  This was my first pregnancy, and I hadn't yet learned the art of scoping (or carrying with me) a garbage can out anytime I entered a room.  I also didn't have an escape plan mapped out.  

Ah the folly of youth.  Here were my options. 

1.  Run to the closet garbage can.  But I knew I couldn't make it.  It was all the way across the dining room.  I figured I would make it halfway and throw up right in the middle of the 10 students (because only about 10 students are actually up and awake and eating breakfast at 6:45 in the morning), not very appetizing for anyone.

2. Run outside.  There were these emergency exits right next to the office, but when you press them, an alarm sounds, and then 30 seconds later the doors will open.  So even if I made it outside (which was doubtful) an alarm would be blasting and everyone would come running.  10 students + 25 cooks and dishwashers.  That was out.

3.  This was the option I went for.  My boss's hat.  It was sitting right there at his computer.  And just had the perfect shape to it.  Like a toilet bowl that doesn't splash back into your face.

Sorry boss.  I still feel a little bad about it all.  But now that I have a three-year-old son, I make him wear a hat everywhere we go.  You know, just in case.  


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