Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Paul Blart, Mall Puker (Our Lunch With Patient Zero)

It appears I’ve been remiss.

I realized today that although I have thoroughly entertained you with my stories of snot and poop, I have overlooked the last leg of the biohazard trifecta: vomit.

At this point most of you are thinking, “What is with this girl and her disgusting posts? Was she abandoned as a baby at a fraternity house and raised by a disgusting brotherhood of snotty, poopy, pukey men-children?”

To be fair, I was raised alongside a group of disgusting, snotty, poopy, pukey men-children – my brothers –but they are a story for another time (actually, many stories for many other times).

Another percentage of readers are pretty grossed out at the thought of a puke story, but willing to play along for the time being. My mom, who has read everything I’ve written since I could hold a pencil (bless her heart), is among this group. She’ll read this sucker to the end but right now she’s yelling to my dad, “Ron! She’s doing it again!”

And then there’s the itty bitty tiny handful of people who are thinking, “Vomit! Awesome! It’s been practically a whole hour since that topic came up in my life.” This handful of people include my afore-mentioned brothers, my husband, and my sons.

So when is she going to quit with the wind-up and get to the puke story?!

Okay, here goes.

The baby and I drove into the city today to meet the hubs for lunch at the mall. We had finished eating (we split a five dollar, five dollar, five dollar foot-long) and were walking along with Evan in his stroller feeling like a happy little family when we heard the most God-awful sound in the world.

The only thing I can compare it to is when our little ten-pound dog Gus eats one of Evan’s baby socks then horks it back up. I mean, imagine a dog that small regurgitating a whole SOCK. Kind of impressive when you think about it. But also a truly horrific sound.

Scanning the crowd and seeing no sock-horking dogs around, we zeroed in on the source of the ruckus: A huge man (both tall and wide) was standing over a garbage can – in the middle of the mall – unloading his lunch. I don’t know if he had the five dollar, five dollar, five dollar foot-long, but from the sheer length of time it took to bring up the contents of his stomach, I would guess he consumed several feet of something.

Joe and I looked at each other with equal parts disgust and recognition. Just last night our hero Daniel Tosh (if you haven’t seen his show Tosh.O you’re truly missing out, although I will ask my parents to promise me that they will NEVER watch it), ran a clip from a mall surveillance video that caught a man relieving himself in a potted plant, as oblivious shoppers milled about. And when I mean relieved himself, I mean in the number two sense of the word.

And the very next day we stumble upon a great big man – did I mention he was clad entirely in brown velour? – relieving himself of his lunch in a mall trash can. It is a small, crazy, disgusting world. As Joe put it, one moment you’re shopping, the next you’re sharing the mall with Patient Zero.

And you might be thinking that the nausea snuck up on this guy and he had no other choice but to make a mad dash for the nearest trash receptacle. Maybe you’re right. But there was something about how he was throwing up and how he would look around between heaves as if willing people to take notice, that seemed familiar – it reminded me of the guy squatting on the planter in the surveillance video, as if he was being incredibly deliberately disgusting.

I guess we all have to find a way to leave our mark on the world.


Rebekah said...

Aw, man! I'm meeting a friend for dinner tonight at a mall and now I'm afraid of what we'll see. I'm totally avoiding all trash cans and planters.

I am Harriet said...

Ewe....that man over garbage image is a hard one to rid...

Stopping by via SITS to say hello!


Heather said...

Two words. Eww! Funny!! ;)

Suzanne Westover said...

Vomit is kind of funny. I am a terrible vomiter. I sweat and get chills and it only happens about once every five years. Craig, on the other hand, can literally walk along the street, have an upset stomach, throw up into a trash can with perfect aim and then buy himself a soda like nothing happened. I wonder - Why are some so uniquely gifted?

Anonymous said...

I can one-up you Cyndi. Aunt Suz and I took the Milwaukee Clipper from Ludington to Milwaukee once on very choppy water. We didn't get sick but we actually saw a NUN with her head in a trash can, heaving. Not a pretty sight. Does everyone else cry when hey throw up? Love you, MOM


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