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Friday, February 7, 2014

THE DEVIL GUT VIRUS: A Comical Take on the Flu

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Half of Gabby has moved to a new kickass website! 

Read this article, in it’s updated version, HERE.


 The page that you are on right now (www.halfofgabby.blogspot.com) is no longer posting new articles and information. Half of Gabby has moved to www.halfofgabby.com and will continue to post new material regularly! In addition, all older articles have been updated on the new site!


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This story has absolutely nothing to do with health or fitness. It is just one example of how my crazy mind looks at things.

WARNING!!! This comical story contains adult language and gross content. Please do not read any further if you object to either one of those things.


I wrote this while still in bed recovering from a brutal devil gut virus. If you’ve ever suffered from any type of stomach bug, you will relate. If you haven’t, consider yourself the luckiest bastard alive.

Let me start by saying that at no time during or after my bout with the devil gut virus did any short, old woman with a funny, squeaky voice ever declare “This house is clean.“ In fact, I question if my house will ever be 'clean' again. The very soul of our beloved home has been tainted with terrifying demonic activity. May God have mercy on my family members. God, protect the little children.

It's a very humbling experience when you're puking and shitting at the same time and you can't stop either one. It's scary to lose all body function. You start thinking ‘when is this going to end? ...I can't go on like this‘. 

Can an asshole actually explode? Yes, I'm sure of it now. It can definitely happen.



This is where the saying 'The Bowels of Hell' came from. Someone somewhere was stricken with this devil gut virus and made up that saying. It makes perfect sense now. So as I'm experiencing the Bowels of Hell first-hand, I can't help but wonder what is going to happen first. Am I going to blow my asshole out, blow my esophagus out, or pop an aneurysm? Or all three?

  
Omg, what fresh hell is this? Somebody help me.
                               


But before you can ride it out to find out which orifice is going to blow out first, you come to realize by about Hour Two that shitting yourself is a clear and present danger. By Hour Four it is a certain doom. With this devil gut virus, you don't exactly know when it's going to happen... but you find resolve within yourself that it will indeed happen. For there are no receptors in your brain telling you to get yourself to the bathroom. Your ass is calling the shots… and it’s calling them with no warning.

Sadly, in the midst of my severe abdominal cramping and pain I failed to think logically before this incident came to pass. I didn't think ahead and change into old jammies and granny underwear (shark week undies).

Isn't it amazing how perfectly normal it seems to take up residence on your bathroom floor? You take turns between writhing in pain and being rolled up in a fetal position. Pillow, blanket, the whole bit.

This is your life now.





And maybe, if you're lucky, you'll get a 10 minute reprieve every few hours where you fall fast asleep... next to the shitter.



 At one point, I started hearing noises. Was it the sounds of my stomach flipping, churning, and gurgling? Was it the sounds of my body screams and zombie moans. No, it was Taps. I swear I heard Taps playing. It was playing in memory of my brand new VS panties. For I had to give them a non-proper burial in the puke trash bag. Why couldn't it had been my granny Hanes??? 

WHY????


There comes a moment in everyone's life where you're lying in a pool of your own puke and shit and you start reevaluating your life choices. If you're in your twenties, you probably got there via Jagermeister. If you're over thirty, you probably got a stomach virus.





You start thinking ‘did I do enough good in my life‘? Did I make enough of a difference? Will I have to stay in Purgatory for all my wrongs and if so for how long? I mean if there isn't cable or wifi there, that's gonna suck major ass. Damn, I shouldn't have called that old man a 'fucking moron' the other day in the Shop 'n Save parking lot. But geez, he almost hit me backing out of his parking spot... and then he said it was my fault! Or when I bitched at the old man who was farting all around me at the gym. Dang, what is it with old men?

I mean, I couldn't possibly have earned a seat down in The Fire Pit for that stuff, right? You have to be really bad to go there, right? We're talking murder sprees and causing harm to children ... and wearing Crocs.

Omg, what if all my secret (and not so secret) imaginary throat punches count against me. All my rants, all my road rage, and all the spiders I’ve killed (even the ones outside!). Does all of that count against me too? Mahatma Gandhi says you can't kill anything. Does he hang out with God? Do they share that opinion? Oh Bloody hell, I'm fucked.

Am I gonna die on my bathroom floor? They say a lot of times you piss and shit your pants when you die. Is that true? Because omg I'm ALREADY doing that… and I'm alive! Or am I? Holy shit, did I die? Because I feel like I could've died. Jay will find me on the floor and have to clean me up... Then he'll contract this devil gut virus. Omg, who is gonna clean him up? And take care of my babies??

                                           


These are the things that whiz through my mind in between my moans and whimpers. Is this normal? Has anybody else pondered their life while they are puking and shitting themselves? I mean I also think other things, logical things...like, I have to Lysol all of this carnage and quarantine myself away from my family.

I even had Jay buy the girls new toothbrushes on one of his Gatorade runs for me (thank you baby). As I was sitting on the John for what seemed to be an eternity, I found myself staring at all their toothbrushes just laying out in the open diseased air. Is it just my kids, or do your kids each have five toothbrushes too? Why is that? I threw them all away. They will rest eternally next to my beloved VS panties.


See, I was thinking logically. My mind was saying 'Protect the children!' Don’t let them use toothbrushes that have been amongst the devil gut shit and puke particles. I was still able to use my brain! Even after said brain was ready to implode after all the puking exertion. Seriously, it felt like the top of my skull was literally going to pop off of my head. It's the kind of headache where you can't even open your eyes. And you would swear that someone had your head in a vice. Brutal I tell you.


Retching really puts your body through it. I mean holy-effing-force. My abs feel like I did 4000 crunches. Will I get some kind of muscle benefit from this? I mean, does puking build your ab muscles like crunches do? It sure as hell feels like it. That would at least be one small advantage of my bathroom floor time. 'Oh wow, how'd you get that six pack?' ... 'Oh it was nothing really, I just retched and puked for two days trying to expel a gut demon. And while the rest of my body was completely paralyzed by extreme inhuman abdominal pains, my abs had to convulse and contract continuously to try to aid the Devil's escape. So now my abs are totally ripped... along with my asshole and esophagus. It's a fantastic program. It gives you lightening speed results. You should try it, here … lick this toothbrush that's wrapped in these fancy underwear.’

Ya, it's amazing what you think about when the side of your face takes turns between being pressed against the commode and being smack up against your bathroom floor. And don't you just love how a stomach virus mindfucks you into thinking you might be ready to get up off the floor and go back to your normal life? You'll go an hour with no throwing up or assplosions and you start thinking you beat this thing. You think ‘Hmmm, 12 hours isn't so bad, I got through it! I did it!’

You're so hopeful and excited. You get up off the bathroom floor and go into a different room. You need a new scenery. You want to do something normal. You've been living on the cold bathroom floor. You just need to do something normal and simple. A chair. Yes, I'll sit in this chair here and just take a second to reflect. Reflect on how much I've been through. This shit was like Nam. Omg it's over. My bout with this deadly infection is over. I beat it!


BAM!!!!

Just when you're about to accept your I-Beat-the-Devil Gut-Virus Award, the red carpet is pulled from underneath you and your head is jammed back into the fucking shitter and you're retching like a little bitch. And the whole time you’re praying to God to make it stop, you’re hoping you don't crap yourself again. You start telling God you'll go to church every Sunday and you won't call people Shit-bags and Thundercunts anymore. You tell him that you'll be nicer and kinder to everyone. Anything! Just make it stop! PLEASE!!!



But it doesn't stop. It goes on and on....and on.


It seems you've spent a lifetime on the hard tile floor. You are now a floor dweller. You crawl and slither around like an animal. Your only form of communication is grunting and grumbling. You look like you just clawed your way out of the deepest depths of hell.


You don't even look human anymore.


At this point you are so dehydrated that your lips look like a back alley crack head. The thought of any liquid, even ice chips, makes you want to retch. Because every time even the smallest drop of anything hits your stomach, volcanic vomiting ensues. And let’s not forget the dry heaves. Ah, those fun little bastards. All this throwing up makes you desperately thirsty. And even though you know what's going to happen if you drink something, you do it anyway. But food, whew, food is NOT happening. Not even a saltine. Nothing. Homie don't play that. Even the oxygen I'm breathing in is making me nauseous and I'm only sipping liquids to stay alive. I don't care if I ever eat again. 

Fuck food. Forever.

It's amazing how in just a short time-frame of this extreme bathroom life, you change. Shit gets real.


This Devil Gut Virus......It changes you.

You see darkness around you. You feel chills, like the Devil himself is next to you. You start to hear noises...that you're pretty sure aren't really there. You ponder life and all of your unkind moments. You pray you will come out of this alive so that you can go forth unto a new life with a new purpose bringing kindness and understanding to those who wrong you. You promise God you'll be a better person if he makes this virus go away.

But after more incessant retching and shitting... you start to lose hope. You start to think that you'll be the first person in history that gets the devil gut virus...and it doesn't ever go away. You just have to live with it forever until you shit out every last one of your internal organs and waste away into a pile of bones. You're doomed. Doomed to a devil gut death that leaves you laying in a pool of your own fluids. Why? WHY!!!! Why do I have to go out like this? Why couldn't I go out with some glory??

You look in the mirror. You're gaunt. The dark sunken black holes around your eyes show the hell you've been through. Your death-gray and green pallor has you looking like you belong on the set of The Walking Dead. You look like pure death. You're staggering around trying to get your sore body to cooperate. All you can do is moan. And you swear it's a real possibility that Daryl Dixon is gonna pop out from behind the shower curtain and arrow you right between your dead, sunken, bloodshot eyes.

You're living an emotional roller coaster . One minute you have yourself accepting a Devil Gut Award and the next you're a fucking walker. Even your own family looks at you like a Zombie. Nobody will come anywhere near you. Even from far away they scrunch up their faces and hold their breath so they don‘t inhale your disease. You give up. You accept the fact that this shit has got you. It's got it's hooks in you and you may not make it out alive. So you get your weak ass off of the bathroom floor and stand up. You decide to make the journey to your bed. 

If this shit is coming for me, I will not go out on a bathroom floor. Fuck that. I'll leave that sad bullshit to Elvis, I'm going to my bed.

So I get there. It takes a while. I got a limp. My entire right side is asleep from laying in a fetal position on a hard, tile floor. But I finally get there. My bed looks like an oasis. A beautiful, soft, inviting mirage. Could it be real? I think I hear harps playing. Oh shit, the harps stop playing almost immediately. There goes my stomach. Oh sweet baby Jesus please save me.



What have I done to deserve this? Is this some sort of penance? I feel so alone. No one will come near me. I'm treated like I have leprosy. I am an abomination. A lonely, scared abomination.

 



After my umpteenth bout of retching and dry heaving, I get a break. My first break since climbing in my big, soft bed.  I swear I hear a sigh but it wasn't me. Or was it? I don’t know and I don't care, this is glorious. Christ, how did the cavemen do it? How did they sleep on dirt and rocks? Omg, I would've never made it. It would be like permanent camping... without camping stuff. Omg pure hell. Live off the land? Fuck that. I need fleece blankies and warm air shooting out of registers and microwave dings.



While I lay in my bed I hear angels singing. I fall asleep. I wake up four hours later. I haven't puked and aspirated. I haven't shit the bed. OMG, my demonic abdominal pains...they're gone! Well, I'm still left with the 4000 crunches pain but I can handle that...just don't make me sneeze or laugh.

Could this be? Did I kick this Devil Gut Virus?

I did!!! I really, really did!!!! OMG, it's over! YAY!!!!!

You're all positive and enlightened. You’re thinking life is great and God is good. Now I won't die in a pool of my own puke and feces (which is always a good thing). You start thinking back to all the insane shit that was going through your mind when you were moaning on the bathroom floor.

Remember when you thought you saw a darkness? Sheeeet Willis, that wasn't darkness. You shut the damn lights off because your head was killing you. It was getting ready to blow an aneurysm, remember?

And those demonic chills? Those chills weren't the Devil laying next to you. Those were real motherfucking chills. Remember when you shit yourself and were laying there half naked because you had to throw your clothes away? Ya, that would explain it, dumbass.

And those noises you kept hearing? That was your entire insides gurgling and churning....and gearing up to deliver another record-breaking assplosion. A scary ghost story to be passed down to future generations to scare kids into being hygienic. 

Wash your hands kids.... or your assholes will explode.

And remember when you said you were never going to eat again? I think your exact words were "Fuck Food. Forever". Haha. That's cute. We can laugh about those silly little ideas over pizza and cheesecake. I'M STARVING!

So you make your way to the kitchen and scarf anything you can see. It doesn't matter what it is. You start grabbing anything and shoving it in your mouth like a wild animal.



After you eat you start to feel a little more normal. Your brain function starts coming back. You start remembering all that life-pondering you were doing when you thought you were going to die. How you promised to be a better person if the devil virus would go away.  Not doing too much of that now, eh buddy? Nope. You're pissed. You’re thinking I'm a good person, why did I have to be reduced to writhing on my bathroom floor for 24 hours? Wtf? 

That insane, idiotic man who almost plowed into my car because he decided to back out of his parking spot like a rocket ship should've been the one retching and praying for a more glorious death! I don't feel bad for calling him a ‘fucking moron‘. That's what he is! Why can't I? Just because he's old? Old people can be assholes too. Proof of that is the D-Bag who was farting all over me at the gym. Then after I said something to him, he sought me out in the weight room and purposely walked by me and farted... and then left. I don’t feel bad for speaking my mind. For all I know maybe he was farting those deadly napalm farts because he was just getting over the devil gut virus. Maybe he started this viral epidemic. Maybe my most recent brush with death on my bathroom floor is all his fault! I breathed in his diseased fart air and it infected me.

Remember when you promised God you would be kinder and nicer to people if he released you from the clutches of the gut demon? Screw that! I'm not being nice to people who aren't nice to me. I'll always be nice first but I'm gonna call you on your crap if you start actin' a fool. I can’t stand mean-spirited assholes. Life's too short. And hell, if you've been afflicted with a devil gut virus lately, you realize just how short life can really be. One minute you're passing the time of day doing your normal everyday stuff... and the next minute you're in a fetal position hoping you don't die in your own puke and shit on a cold and lonely tile floor.

Always remember that your time can be up at anytime...and live accordingly. May you never have to learn the first-hand lessons that have been presented to me in the most savage and brutal of ways. Go in peace my friends... and wash your damn hands!

***Scroll down for the 16 phases of the Devil Gut Virus. I think you'll agree that they are all true!

       "The 16 Phases of Gut Hell"

PHASE 1: Your stomach is acting up. No big deal, Holmes. It was probably something little you ate or maybe you just have to take a shit.

PHASE 2: Damn, that doesn't seem normal. Definitely don't have to shit. Maybe that milk was outdated. It'll go away.

PHASE 3: Shit, that's real pain now. No imagining that. I need some Maalox or Tums.

PHASE 4: Man, I gotta get home. Something is wrong. Wonder what it is? Ouch.

PHASE 5: OMG, why is that girl wearing so much perfume? Do I smell flowers? And that man's breakfast on his breath? Oh God, all these smells. Why are they so strong? I feel so sick. Oh God, please don't let me throw up!! Please! I hate throwing up!

PHASE 6: Shit, I'm gonna throw up. My mouth is watering and I'm getting that weird fuzzy head feeling. Oh God here it comes in 3-2-1.

PHASE 7: Maybe I'm not sick. Maybe I'm gonna feel all better now because whatever was messing with me is out now. Ya, I feel pretty good now. Whatever it was is gonna pass...

...OH SHIT! Phase 8 comes with a quickness!

PHASE 8: FUCK!! I gotta throw up again! How much is in there? Maybe once I get it all out, I'll be better.


PHASE 9: Oh God. I'm dying. Do I have food poisoning? What did I eat? Maybe it's food poisoning and it's not contagious. Maybe I don't have the Devil Gut Virus. I can't have it! Nobody around me has been sick! Oh God please not the DGV. I'll give it to my kids and husband and then I'll have to clean up boatloads of puke.

PHASE 10: OH NO! I'm gonna shit my pants!!!! I gotta get to the toilet!!!! Whew, that was close. Okay, I think that's all out of me from everywhere. I should be good now.

...12 hours later. 12 hours of relentless, unspeakable bathroom carnage. 

PHASE 11: I have the Devil Gut Virus. FML.

PHASE 12: Maybe it'll be over really quick. I'll fight it off quick. It's usually only a day or two, maybe I got a mild case. I put 12 hours in. Maybe I'm done now.



...12 more hours later...

PHASE 13: I'M GONNA DIE. I'M GONNA FUCKING DIE ON MY BATHROOM FLOOR...HALF NAKED.... Like Elvis.


PHASE 14: I swear God, if you make this stop I'll be a changed person. I will live with only a kind and grateful heart. No more getting disgusted with your humans that you made. I promise.

PHASE 15: Oh praise Christ my Savior. It's over! I'm healed. Oh thank you God! Thank You!!!

PHASE 16: I can't believe I just spend the last two days on the bathroom floor like a New York cockroach. For fucks sake, it's already Friday. I lost part of my life puking up my vital organs. All because suck ass disgusting hog beasts can't wash their damn hands! I hate people. Don't they know my babies can get this now?! All because people can't take simple hygiene measures. Dirty bastards!




HERE'S SOME MORE PICS FROM THE FLU SHOOT... FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE:



 

 

 






 
     My best friend Di.
     Photographer for the Flu Shoot.
     Good times.


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Wanna laugh some more? Check out these stories... Yes, this shit really happens to me.



MY EPIC FAILURE IN A PORTA-JOHN


7 REASONS WHY VIRAL MENINGITIS BLOWS GOATS: A Comedic Memoir




A CRAZY ASS DAY AT THE FRUIT MARKET



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