Being 30 sucks. End of story.


I really did kind of get over the 30 thing about a week before the big birthday hit. I was super excited about my parties and even happy I was still on Facebook. Then the birthday hit. Then the SECOND FUCKING SNOW STORM IN TWO WEEKS THAT CRIPPLES THIS CRAPPY CITY I LIVE IN HIT. I think that sentence about sums up how I feel about snow. Then I got a cold that I’M STILL NOT OVER.

Now it’s March. Things should be moving on. I’m 30, let’s move on, back to normal life. I’m trying. I’ve been doing training for work all week out at the airport. I guess the bright side is I’m not at work. The dark side is everything else: driving to the airport, sitting in a chair staring a computer learning at a pace much slower than I need (but much faster than other participants need), going to work after a full day of training because I do still have a job. Can I stop with this list now? Yeah, we’re both annoyed. Tuesday night I arrive home around 8pm wondering where dinner would come from so I stopped at my favorite restaurant. I’m reticent to mention it now because of where this story is heading but…you already know what it is. Because I was feeling sorry for myself I got the pork. Those tacos were delicious if not a little salty. After I took the last bite I said,

“Man, I hope I don’t regret that.”

I have done this about every 5 or 6 months for a couple years, however, it has probably been a year since I ate meat like that. I get a little sick to my stomach but it’s nothing a little pink liquid can’t fix. I went to bed and thought no more of it.

Until 1am. When I woke up in agonizing pain. Meat, bad. Got it. I took some pepto and somehow fell back asleep. Until 3:30am when Cute Boy rolled over to cuddle and I catapulted off the bed towards the toilet. I haven’t thrown up in a long time. It wasn’t pretty. And it didn’t look like I had digested ANY of that dinner. I instantly felt better. Meat, bad. Got it. Won’t do it again. I fell back asleep, waking every hour until I had to get up for the day. I thought for sure the worst was over and I’d be fine. As the training day dragged on I realized that there might more to this than just meat, bad. I felt awful.

I think I got food poisoning from my favorite restaurant. I don’t want to believe that but I’m pretty sure the doctor at the urgent care place (who was terrible) pretty much confirmed that was the case. For the record, FBIs are hard to confirm and it really could just be that my body doesn’t want to process that meat anymore. I got some medicine. Cried a lot little . And slept for 10 hours until I had to get back up for more training.

So what have we learned?

Meat: bad? Maybe.

Snow: really bad? Of course.

Working for a living: overrated? Definitely.

Being 30? Apparently your body falls apart! Being 30 sucks. End of story.

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