Oh. My. God.
I don't know what I ate yesterday that made me feel like this, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the giant ham bone. Or the dirt. Or the cat feces. Or the stinky fountain water. Those things were all pretty sweet tasting. I'm guessing it was my nasty dog food. That stuff is crap.
Anyway, I was up all night with what can best be described as "projectile poop" (I would call it shit, but I like the alliteration). Nice and liquid-y, it got EVERYWHERE.
Unfortunately, despite the somewhat cool nature of the problem, I still kind of want to die, I feel so gross. Sarah (the asshole) took me for a walk this morning, and I didn't even have the energy to act up. Much.
Actually, the only thing that is making me feel slightly better is watching Sarah have to clean up the projectile poop. That's actually pretty fucking cool. Also, I kept her up all night howling and crying every time I went, so even though I didn't get any sleep, she didn't either. That's the way things should be.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a wall that doesn't appear to have any poo on it. I think I can remedy that situation.