Mr. Bunndini doesn't like to barf any more than the next guy. I had a friend who was so afraid of barfing that he would have panic attacks at the slightest tummy rumble; he avoided shellfish and Indian food. Another friend screamed at the top of his lungs when riding the porcelain bus; gasping for breath after each heave, it sounded like a particularly nasty home birthing session.
I long prided myself on being vomit free since 2003 but sadly the streak was broken in 2010 in one glorious night of suspect squid and jagermeister shots. Yesterday I thought I would "talk to Ralph on the big white telephone" for most of the day but the crisis was averted and now I am left with just a lingering metallic taste in my mouth. It's probably just scurvy.
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