In a useless attempt to vow out of attending the trade show yesterday for the entire day, I induced myself sick.
See, this trade show, which my company is involved in every year, is all about food and beverage. Therefore you pretty much spend your entire day throwing comestables willy-nilly down your pie-hole, only to roll to your car after being winched out on a giant pulley mechanism because you've gained 7 kilogrammes in two days. Or something like that.
There's free food fucking everywhere.
Yesterday I was sick and tired of flitting around, smiling at people (although one hot man - selling Portuguese food - oh the irony - was worth smiling at. A lot. Everytime I walked past. Which was like, every half an hour.) and being nice. So the plan was to eat everything I saw in large quantities and then vomit on my editor's shoes, where she'd take pity on me and send me home to my bed.
No such luck. I ate one pie, eight samoosas, half a Delhi curry (those guys are great), two Pepsis, an ice-cream, three chicken nuggets, two slices of pizza, and a whole lot of Franco-continental cheese. I didn't vomit. I bounced off the walls in a fit of glucose delerium. I'd pumped my body so full of sugar so quickly, I literally felt pissed. I'm pretty sure I was swaying, and giggling and kind of talking at the top of my voice for a good hour or two. Then on the way home, through traffic, I lost momentum and my wonderful little sugar high (which, by the way, gives you a mighty feeling of grandiose before you come crashing down), turned quickly into the shakes and nauseum.
I sat up the whole night with cramps and a severe headache. God knows where I put this food, because lately I forget to eat. You know, I wonder why I'm feeling so cranky, and I realise I haven't eaten for like 10 hours.
I still snuck out early though. So I think I might be in trouble this morning. Sigh.