Mandarin Diarrhea Episode 1

Ha ha freaking ha.

I can't wait to see what google searches bring this post up.

But I digress. Because? There really is a point to this post. And that is Meatloaf, Mandarin Oranges and copious quantities of diarrhea.

To wit. I was at a friend's house last night and I decided that since I have been really tired from medication, etc, that it would be better just to hang out and chill instead of going to dinner and a movie or whatnot. So I decided to make meatloaf. Not just any meatloaf, but my famous (in my head only) meatloaf.

My meatloaf is kind of like grape meatballs (if you have never had them, google it and make them because they are the equivalent of angel appetizers) in that the ingredients sound completely disgusting, but the end result in scrum-diddley-umptious. You take about 3 pounds of ground beef and infuse it with soy sauce and other secret things and then you mix up some brown sugar, more soy sauce and mandarin oranges and pour the whole thing over the top.

After baking for about an hour, you proceed to the consumption of the loaf.

HOWEVER. Three pounds of meatloaf between two people should result in at least 2 plus pounds being left over. Unless you are complete and utter piggies and you decide to ingest over two pounds of it in one sitting. All I will say is that one person had about a half a pound and the other probably porked down at least the other pound and a half.

The results? Ensuing hilarity.

Stomach Aches

Gaseous Explosions

Crop Dusting

Buddha Bellies

Moans of pain

Utterances of agony

And the best part of all is that I, as in moi, had my ass explode. Literally. My stomach started gurgling anew about 30 minutes after my meal and I felt like I had to fart. But I was afraid to fart because my Early Warning Sharting System (EWSS) pinged me to let me know that there was a good chance that I would shit myself. So I hied my tightly clenched ass cheeks to the nearest crapatorium and wriggled out of my pants as quickly as possible. People, I took my pants completely off and set them aside on the off chance that there was splatter and my pants would be a casualty and thusly be stained with foul liquid. But, the law of the fear of shitting yourself kicked in and I sat on the throne for 10 minutes before I felt another gluteal ping. It was then that I expended a fart that could rattle the bowels of hell itself and send the devil shaking under his bed. And after all that, there was very little poo. Just enough to hurt my very sensitive anal area, but not enough to do any real damage.

So? Crisis averted.

Not so much.

After I got my the pins and needles out of my legs it wasn't but another half an hour before the rumbly in my tumbly sent me back to John T Crapper. Then the magic happened. By the end of my experience, I had completely covered the toilet in what one can only describe as a coating of brown acid rain. My legs AND my arms went to sleep from all of the clenching. There were points where the need for a fire department and/or ambulance was discussed and dismissed, but it was a near thing.

All I could do afterwards was pray to God that I had expelled everything from my esophagus to my anus. It was the equivalent of a self-induced colonoscopy except there was no lube and afterwards, I had to climb in the sink and hose my rectum out with the sprayer set to jet stream.

Did I mention that it was the KITCHEN sink?

So? The moral of this story is that my meatloaf is excellent. In portioned amounts. But when someone with a highly sensitive stomach ingests about 4 times her body weight in beef, bad things..... very, very bad things might happen.

I still feel dirty.

And I think I owe my friend a new toilet.

The end.