Sunday, February 13, 2011

What's with today, today?

My opinion of my own intellect is rather varied. There are days when it feels like my brain has triumphed over every adversity that dares to face it. These are generally the days when I get back an essay and my lecturer grants one of my points an enigmatic double-tick. Or the days that I use a tin opener all by myself.

Today is not one of those days.

Last night, I had the honour of attending what has long been looked forward to as the social event of the season, nay, the year; the debut EP launch for loveable miscreants and good friends When Good Pets Go Bad. The night was a tremendous success, and I came home a satisfied, if quite drunk, customer. I launched myself into bed and prepared myself for warm lovely dreams about guitars and Burt Reynolds.

I woke up at six in the morning, feeling the groggy dehydration of someone who's been mainlining rasberry flavoured vodka. I blindly felt my way into the kitchen, desperately trying not to wake up my mother, whose crazy pills kick in between 1 and 6 a.m. I chugged three glasses of water, and feeling like I should probably play it safe, hangover wise, reached for a blueish box, on which i could barely make out the word "aspirin". The kitchen was still completely dark, so I couldn't actually read the box properly, but eggs is eggs is eggs, right?


The second I swallowed the tablet I knew something was wrong. My throat had never felt fizzy in the past and it seemed odd that it felt fizzy now. I turned on the light and looked at the packet to confirm my suspicions, and once I saw the little bubbles zooming off the cartoon tablet on the box, I knew my goose was cooked. Soluble, I remembered, does not mean "swallow by itself, ignore water" but actually means something closer to "make a drink with this out of water, and then you'll feel much nicer". Panicked, I drank an additional two glasses of water and went back to sleep.

By the morning I had forgotten about the whole experience and charged my way through two boiled eggs. Delighted with my reasonably small hangover, I went to work with no knowledge of the horrors to come. By half one, I was in complete agony. It felt like there was a bunch of angry Alaskans going to town on some baby seals in my stomach.

I quickly figured out that this sudden disgusting pain could in some small way be related to my fizzy throat problem the night before. I told my supervisor who suggested I go to Boots (where happiness is born) and tell the pharmacist about my problem. I was then told by a nice woman in a sweater vest that I was to lie down and drink lots of water, and that the problem should pass within twelve hours. Should?, I replied. "Unless it's ripping your stomach lining. Which could be the case. Look out for blood."

I responded with a face that looked something like this:

...and hobbled back to work.

For a total of 48 minutes, until my supervisor decided that me trying to serve customers while doubled over in pain wasn't the world's best marketing strategy. 

And that's the story of how swallowing a soluble Disprin got me sent home from work. 


  1. Who'd have thought that baby seals could have such interesting expressions?
    '"Unless it's ripping your stomach lining. Which could be the case. Look out for blood."

    I responded with a face that looked something like this..' I can't stop laughing at this

  2. I eagerly await:

    "Diss-Prin- The Caroline O Donoghue Story"

    5 Stars- "A Not so Bitter Pill to swallow for those with the stomach for it. Put it on my Tab...let". - Cosmo Landsman

  3. Ha! Cosmo. What an astronomical douche bag.

  4. Total Douche. If theres such a thing as Development Hell, I hope he ends up there.