So I will keep one blog post to chronicle this mess, rather that clutter the blog with hourly updates.
I took a vicodin, anticipating that (1) this is gonna be uncomfortable, and (2) I’m gonna be nauseous and probably not be able to keep anything down later, so I better get this in my system.
About to ingest the first 8 ounces of this rocket fuel. Then another 8 ounces every 20 minutes. Gah…awful sounding already.
I did something like this many years ago in college — 1.5 oz shots of beer every minute for 100 minutes. Followed up by shots of vodka for those left standing, with one shot per minute. It did not end well. At all. In fact 25 years later I still don’t like vodka. Gin, being the only thing I didn’t drink in college, is now the only thing I like. Well, that and scotch.
As much as I would like a robust discussion of fine spirits to serve as a diversion / procrastination tool, I cannot tarry any longer. Bottoms up, people. Fire torpedo one. 6:05PM.
Well, the good news is that stuff is pretty tasteless. Firing torpedo two now. 6:27PM.
6:51. Firing torpedo three. So far, only issue is mild headache from NOT HAVING EATEN IN 24 HOURS. How did Gandhi do this, I wonder? :)
7:05, about to fire torpedo four. Getting full. Of water. Starting to be reminded of those stories about how you can’t drink a gallon of milk, or a gallon of apple juice, or crush an egg in your hand…or something like that. In any case…glug glug glug. Here we go.
7:10. First rumblings. Need to pee like a racehorse. Eye on the prize here…only four more glasses to go and I have 15 minutes respite before I have to chug another one. I have a feeling the fun is about to start, though…
7:26. Torpedo five swallowed. Feeling a little queasy although I’m not sure if I’m waterlogged or if it’s the medicine or just the vicodin-on-an-empty-stomach. Two mammoth belches have emerged. It is time to venture into the bathroom. By the way…sure looks like a hell of a lot of water left in that big pitcher…
7:52. About to swallow torpedo six. Am going to conduct measuring experiment as I’m sure there’s gotta be more than 64 ounces between what I’ve swallowed and what is left. Stuff has started to work, I’ll leave it at that. Comment of my good friend Scott noted. Glad you’re out there, pal. Between this and the NFL draft I’m not sure what’s more thrilling to follow in real time… ;)
7:56. Experiment confirms mis-measurement and an extra 8 oz in the pitcher. While this might seem inconsequential, nausea is setting in and I could barely get down that last slug of water. I doubt I will be able to do the extra 8 oz.
8:12. About to fire down torpedo seven. Nausea is becoming an issue and there’s too much left. No way I’m ingesting more than the 64 oz…which is probably the breaking point even moreso than the amount of the colon-blow that’s dissolved in the water. However, if I only get about 85% of that crap in me (no pun intended) it may just have to do.
8:40. No way I’m finishing the rest of this stuff. There were about 10 cups, not 8, in the jug and I’m only drinking 7, so I will only have 70% of it in me…which means I’ll only have taken 10 days worth of laxative in two hours instead of 14. This will have to suffice. If I have another teaspoon I’m gonna throw up and that will do nobody any good whatsoever.
As for the impact of the digested agent…it has been almost non-existent to date. The waiting game is gonna be a blast, I’m sure.