Yeah, maybe I should've rethought that idea

I finally dragged my sorry ass into the office this morning about an hour late. I felt seriously like someone had beaten me soundly with some sort of medieval weapon and then thrown me into a pit of wolverines. Okay, maybe just beavers on steroids, but it was pretty bad.

EPOD was in his usual bad humor - as I found out later, he has a huge meeting tomorrow morning at 7 AM that he was doing a lot of last-minute shit for, so he didn't even bother to talk to me or ask me how I was doing until after lunchtime. Chachi was such a royal pain in my ass this morning yelling up and down the hall that I was contagious that I finally threatened to lick his mouse while I was at lunch. That shut him up pretty quickly.

What seems to be going around is Norovirus, which is highly contagious and has symptoms including everything that I had - aches, chills, fever, vomiting, diarrhea, nausea, headache. Check, check, check, check, check, check and check. Some of the luckier people in our office only had say four of the seven symptoms, but Mary and I were lucky enough to win the Super Secret Bonus Round and get all seven. Hot damn!

The body count at the office currently stands at seven people. You would think we were back in the time of the Black Death because everyone is sanitizing the crap out of everything and avoiding the seven of us like we are lepers. What they fail to realize is that you are contagious a few days before showing symptoms, and for up to three days after you are done. So pretty much the first person who was sick has fucked it all up for the rest of us. I felt pretty confident that coming into the office today wasn't going to do any more damage than was already done, especially since I was Victim #6. Or at least that's what I kept telling myself while licking Chachi's mouse.

At lunchtime I slogged up to Wendy's and got the one thing I knew I could stomach - two plain baked potatoes - and a small vanilla Frosty. I ate about 2/3 of one potato, a few bites of the Frosty, and that was it. It must have been the Frosty, because I perked up really well around 2 PM and almost felt normal.

And this, my friends, is where things go horribly wrong. You know how you get all cocky after having a stomach bug and you are absolutely starving for something really, really good to eat - but you really ought to stick to stuff like toast and soup? Yeah, well no one ever said I was smart. I got this bee in my bonnet that I wanted a Chicken Fajita Rollup from Applebees for dinner. I could literally almost smell the dipping sauce the whole way to pick up Monkey Man. And of course, he totally rejected my idea and we ended up going to the local pizza place for dinner instead.

I managed to eat about half a piece of pizza and now my stomach feels like crap again. So much for that. Probably a good thing I didn't eat what I actually wanted, because then I would've exploded in an array of chicken and spicy sauce with cheese. Blech.

Tomorrow will be a good day to be at the office. EPOD is out all day, The Fox will be out most of the day, Dave is gone all day, and Chachi will probably be dead from his ass exploding. I have a facial at noon and have to do an orientation for a new assistant in the afternoon, so she will get to not only see my farged-up face post-facial, she will have the joy of trying to avoid making contact with anything in my office for two hours. That in itself will provide plenty of entertainment.