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Actually, this is how it went:

called doctor's office. Pressed the IVR option for "speak to a nurse" after sitting on hold got a message that no nurse was available and I should go to ER or leave a message and get a call back. I hung up. Called internist friend of mine and left a voicemail message asking him to call back and give me thoughts...i called dr;'s office back to see if they had any appointments....they said no (unless I could be there in 10 minutes which I couldn't) at that point in time I had exhaisted all of my time before I had to jump on a client call. I asked y'all to pass time while I was on the call. I'm now off the call, but the doctor friend called me back and informed me what signs I needed to look for if this wasn't something I couldn't ride out for an hour or two before making a determination on the ER (which will screw up a deadline today)....so I'm going ot work for an hour, re-evaluate, and then go to the ER or work based on the instructions given from friend.

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Not an ulcer. Ulcers come on more slowly and the pain is usually dull. You could have any variety of things. I wouldn't fuck around with guessing. Go to the ER, even if it costs you some co-pay.

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Shit, I jsut figured out what is causing it....finding out that Tyler Hamilton tested positive for blood tampering at both the Olympics and the Vuelta....it's the intense sense of betrayal that's eating me from the inside out. If this turns out to be legit, I'm never watching another pro cycling event again.

But seriously...I think i'm going to head to the ER as soon as I get a piece of work done.

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Possibly food poisoning. If it its food poisoning, you'll think you're dying, and the process of getting over it is messy. Its really a unique thing to have horrible ass and vomitting problems going on at once. You have to be rather quick and flexible to avoid creating a horror show excremental mess. BUT, the nice thing is once that's over, so is the illness... or at least for me it was.

Drink some ginger ale for now.

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I'm already drinking ginger ale. I'm not sure if it's helping. I have no other symptoms beyond the pain, so I don't think it's food poisoning.

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Ok, I have very few rules in my life, but one is that when I am in such extreme pain that I can barely stand up without doubling over, I go to the doctor. Immediately. As a boss type, I have the same rule for my staff and my staff's family. The only reason to worry about a deadline in this sort of situation is if you constantly miss important deadlines due to "illness."

If you have a doctor that will not see you in an emergency situation you need to (a) go to the emergency room and then, when you are able (b) find a new doctor.


As far as the pool, I pick ovarian cyst. Cause damn those fuckers hurt, they come on suddenly, and you always have trouble identifying where the pain is. Oh, or kidney stone. Do you have any pain in your back?

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I don't know why I'm bothering, but have you ever considered that it may be something as simple as a pulled muscle? Some of these are excruciating, and if you aren't experiencing nausea and the like, it's a possibility.

Now get to a doctor, for God's sake.

ETA: Either that or end-stage syphillis, which would explain the insanity.

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I have heard symptoms like these described by some of my conservative pals on the Politics Board, and it usually turns out that they had their head lodged squarely up their ass. YMMV.

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Put me down for that, too.

There is no reason to visit the ER if you have a good doctor who can fit you in because of an emergency. You'll wait far longer at the ER than at your own doctor's office.

Oh, and ask if they can inject some common fucking sense when you're there.

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Since she's such a tea-totaller, I ruling out various liver and kidney ailments. I could go with bladder infection, but the location is wrong. Thus, my money is on diverticulitis - kiss some of your colon goodbye.

But, it's probably just gas.

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I never realized she was a tea-totaller.

Female friendly porn.
 

Despite the prodigious amounts of alcohol consumed by you rookies, this is a completely accurate account of our evening.

Female friendly porn.
 

Oh, I almost forgot. ACL. Friday recap:

I awoke late Friday morning, thanks to my neighbor's damn barking fucking dogs, feeling like something that one of the damn barking fucking dogs had deposited on the lawn of my neighbor's back yard. I quickly peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth using the pliers that happened to be bedside, stumbled to the shower to wash off the body paint and tilapia, and joined RT in picking up one of the out-of-staters from the airport.

The day was beautiful but hot. We had heard on the radio that three-day passes were sold out, but I was able to pick one up at a reasonable price, quickly and easily, from a friendly scalper (str8?). We were late meeting the rest of the Texans at the previously agreed upon rendevous point for The Killers (all accounts say they were great, but I don't know how well it would have sat with my killer hangover). We still managed to meet up with the other Texans within minutes of entering the festival, thanks to the OddMan and RT's sharp eyes, and settled into Bob Schneider for an ecclectic set that typified the spirit of ACL.

The heat was hot. It's important at events like these to stay hydrated, maintain electrolyte levels, and eat properly, so for breakfast I alternated between Amstel Light and Lone Star. Throughout the day, we took turns slathering each other's sweat-soaked bodies in sunscreen in a futile effort to protect ourselves from the Texas sun.

Blind Boys of Alabama was next on the agenda. If you've heard 'em, you know what they're about. Fortunately they were not relegated to the gospel tent and they were able to put on a show for thousands of appreciative fans instead of hundreds. It was a short walk to Neko Case, whom I would like to meet. She stuck mainly to slower tempo ballads, which was perfect for letting a beer buzz start to overtake my hangover.

The tempo changed dramatically when we walked across Zilker park to catch Solomon Burke, who quickly won over the crowd with his energetic set of soulful R&B, his larger-than-life stage presence (even from a distance), and his throne. I suspect even Sebby would have appreciated the horn section. He earned extra points for performing his highly aerobic set in blazing heat, facing into the sun, while wearing a red sequined suit. I would wager he sweated off a good 10 lbs. during his lengthy set (he refused to leave the stage when his allotted time was up).

We were able to find a table in the shade to re-energize,which I did with Lemonade and plenty of Stubbs bbq. Then it was back to the beer hut and then to the Gospel Tent for Rebirth Brass Band and their wildly infectious mixture of New Orleans Street Jazz and hip hop. Rebirth provides proof that not everyone who was in band in high school ends up a nerd. I highly recommend everyone try to catch them at least once, if for nothing more than to see a cool tuba player.

It had turned dark while we were in the Gospel Tent and we tried to stumble through the crowd for Franz Ferdinand until we realized that we were already in the crowd for FF. Possibly one of the big mistakes of the festival was not having FF on a larger stage. From what I could tell from a very far distance, it sounded like they were tearing it up, and the sea of people seemed to agree. All accounts I have heard or read rank this as one of the best performances of the festival.

I swam through another sea of people to catch local favorites and national phenoms Los Lonely Boys. Think Stevie Ray Vaughn served with jalapenos.

As good as the show was, we used a rare window when our phones were working to rally remaining troops, which now included RT's sister and her friends. We caught a little of Sheryl Crow while following the exiting zombies and headed to Chuy's, the place where Barbara and Jenna Bush received unwanted attention, for welcome air conditioning and even more welcome margaritas during our wait for a table.

The evening ended uneventfully enough, with only one contemplated trip to the ER reported from among the lawtalkers contingent.

Female friendly porn.
 

I willingly acknowledge my amateur status when confronted by the true professionals.

Female friendly porn.
 

Hunh. I wouldn't expect the hookers to care.