She Ate a Pastrami Sandwich: What Happens Next Is Incredible!

On a new and unexpected diet, unexpected because this sudden change was unplanned, I stopped eating red meat.

Backtrack: I married an ex-butcher.

Backtrack: That sounded like the title of a horror flick.

He knows his meat.

Backtrack: That sounded… uhm… let’s move on shall we?

I do the groceries, but I don’t buy red meat. My choices are never up to his level of expected quality. He buys the red meat.

No backtracking needed. Phew…

With him working in Iowa since February (Iowa?) I’ve stuck to my shopping routine of simply not buying any red meat. And then a new diet popped into my eating habits. In June I booked an annual physical and my doctor congratulated me on my low cholesterol level. This encouraged me to stick to this new eating habit.

This past Friday, a bunch of my derby peeps and I decided to go watch some Jell-O wrestling. A – It was for a good cause (homeless teens of San Diego); and B- One of our skaters was wrestling in it. I’m adding an extra reason C- Jell-O wrestling in the heart of San Diego’s gay district? I’d be mad to miss out on this!

Knowing parking is a serious bitch in this hood, a friend and I agreed to ride up there together. On our way we stopped at Wienerschnitzel‘s because I was suddenly craving their hot pastrami sandwich. “I agree” she said, and wanted one too.

We finally made our way inside, checked out the scenery and started getting really excited for what promised to be an amazing evening among friends. And then “Jill, you’re glistening, are you ok?” I asked. She was covered in sweat. “It’s really hot in here,” she said. I explained to her how it was actually rather comfortable. She went outside for some fresh air. A while later my phone buzzed with a text explaining that she barely made it home, she was insanely sick. I put my phone back into it’s pocket and gulped down a 3rd jell-o shot as some jell-o splashed on my face. I was standing right there, on the jell-o sidelines of battle.

It was a jell-o extravaganza!

We yelled, we cheered, we laughed, we ogled (I mean,  skin and jell-o), and then we all  left together. And then it all began to fall apart.

Blurry vision, spinning room, rushes of heat to the head, I was not well. Not well at all. A good friend spotted this immediately “Come on Marr, let’s go for a walk.” I’m not sure how it happened but I felt the timing was appropriate to teach him how to cuss in french. Correcting him, I suddenly dropped to my knees and started losing my gulped jell-o and the hot pastrami sandwich. Oddly enough it all came out much faster than how it came in.

I woke up Saturday morning in my bed thanks to the friend who drove me home. One glass of water and boom, out it went. By 1 pm I had managed to keep down a can of ginger ale and a plain toast. But I was still shaky. I felt like Wile E Coyote after swallowing a bottle full of ACME earthquake pills. I then found out that my friend Jill hadn’t done too well either so my deduction was the pastrami.

This saddened me, and saddens me still as I write these words with shaking hands. Food poisoning blows. It blows even more on a fun-packed weekend. Yesterday we hosted our first ever co-ed roller derby event. I had just enough energy to monitor the penalty box. And then I met up with other great friends for a pirate theme party. Oh and Saturday night I went to the movies with yet another good friend and her two entertaining daughters. Go watch “The Fault in our Stars.”

And in case you’re thinking this is just a bad jell-o shot hangover – you shut your face. Jell-O is your friend. Jell-O is my friend. The only common element to both people who were sick from that night is the pastrami. Die pastrami, die.

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This week’s prompt is “it all began to fall apart” pulled from the clever Stephanie at My Write Side.