Part 3: Living In My Own Private Idaho

Are you getting sick of these long, verbose posts yet? Don't you love my exciting life trapped in my room? It has me on the edge of MY seat, so you must all be riveted. I would post pictures, but my camera images were on RAW, my conversion software is not on this computer, and Photoshop is also not working for some reason. Maybe I killed it with radiation. Sorry, no pictures. I'll keep trying though. So, I vomited last night. Over and over and over again. I was pretty angered by it. I wasn't even nauseous. Apparently, the radiation is slowly working its way from my ears, to my jaw and had neatly lodged itself somewhere in the vicinity of my gag reflex. Basically, it felt like an impossibly hard lump right where I gag, of all places. I could not for the life of me cough it out or swallow it down. It just stayed there like an impenetrable fortress until I started to barf. And I have a stomach of steel, my friends. Now, the said lump has moved a LITTLE farther down. It's still annoyingly there, but at least it's not gagging me into a puke festival. This may be a disgusting shift of topic, but suddenly, I am craving orange chicken. Preferably, from Sunny Hans, but since that is several hundred miles away, I guess Panda Express will have to do. Oh, and Pha Ga from Pho Van and Tom Kha from VeiThai. OK, all my Portland/Gresham friends, go to those places. Enjoy the tasty goodness that our oriental neighbors have lovingly prepared. It will blow your mind. So, I know what my super power is now. I can KILL YOU and I don't even have to do anything but be less than 6 feet from you. My body will destroy your thyroid and then you will die. Impressed? Never fear, I am a good super hero and by Sunday, my power to kill will have dissolved into nothingness. Until then, stay far away from me.