Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui


Hello My Live Journal Darlings,

I'm about to make a run for my version of sushi. I'm so hungry! I get steamed soybeans, cucumber avocado rolls, salad, rice, and maybe a couple pieces of broccoli tempura. Yum.

This next part is kind of disgusting, about my throwing up so I'm going to put it in italics so you can skip it if you're squeamish.

I got sick in Ventura. No surprise there. With the way I've been feeling lately, when am I not sick? The part that was awful though was that I got sick in the car while driving home at night on the freeway -- on the interchange between the 101 and 405 freeways. No chance of pulling over there. Just had to barf and drive.

Scott used to get sick while driving home from work, and I remember feeling so sorry for him and being really alarmed. I mean you'd have to be crazy sick to throw up on yourself while you were driving. I thought it had to be up there with some of the really awful, humiliating, human things we all do, like farting in an elevator or something. I was wrong because it was so much worse.

Imagine knowing you are going to throw up, trying to talk yourself out of it, so that you can buy enough time to somehow pull over on a crowded crazy California freeway. Your best hope is that you will be able to find a wide enough shoulder where you can jump out of your car without getting hit by whizzing traffic, and then barf on the side of the road in front of hundreds of passing cars and your frightened son. Instead I had to reach for a plastic bag and throw up over and over again while keeping my eyes on the road. Horrible. Nightmarishly horrible.

When I finally pulled off the freeway at the Ventura Boulevard exit, I tried to find a side street where I could get out and change. I managed to get away from most of the busy stores and people and hopped out to throw up some more in front of someone's house. If they'd opened their door and looked out I would have been mortified. As it was I was completely embarrassed. Poor Beau. He just hid under his blanket and I had to change out of my clothes on the sidewalk there. Big naked barfy woman, lovely, gimme some more of that please.

I thought about abandoning my gross clothes but then I thought that would be so mean to whoever had to find them and throw them away so I opted for the Golden Rule form and brought them home. Blech.

Anyway today I'm finally hungry. I don't know what's going on with me. I'm just grateful that when I'm sick I lose weight and I have to lose weight before this surgery, tick tock.


I'm excited about the nominations. I don't know why really because as much as I love the Oscars in my own slavishly devoted way, I also think they are supremely political and unfair. I mean there are so many deserving performances and films that don't get nods simply because they weren't released at the right time or weren't marketed heavily. But I still adore them and, like many people, have spent my life dreaming that one day...

I'm happy that Chicago is a success. Glad that it's getting attention. But best picture? Oh well, I can go on and on because this is my favorite subject and my body is screaming for soybeans so I need to go. I'll catch up with you later and hopefully upload some pictures of the beach and the little rock squirrels that we played with.

Love you,
Wacqui

PS: Oh yeay it's another Obsourne's, Tuesday.
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