Jacked Stomach

I woke up last night in pain. My stomach was f-ed up.
I was doubled up, fetal position, in a cold sweat, writhing.
I hurriedly stumbled to the bathroom and proceeded to evacuate into the toilet. Damn you lasagna!
The vomiting was ruthless. On one particularly heavy-duty heave, I felt the blood rush to my head, and popped some small capillaries in my face. I didn't even have to look in the mirror to know I'd have some crazy rash looking shit on my mug. Damn lasagna.

I managed to get to a couple of assignments though. First I had to photograph some local lady who won an award. I got there to realize my batteries, all three of them were dead. I went back home to get my other spare and just made it back to get some shots of her with her neat trophy. Got a pearl tea, then photographed a Sudanese "Lost Boy" Genocide survivor making an appearance at the local H.S.
Still feeling pretty bad. I actually broke out in a cold sweat during the assembly.

DAMN YOU LASAGNA!!! Damn you to hell!