I can't keep deluding people reading my blog. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not original at all, but I'm pretty good at taking other people's innovative, awesome ideas and making a bastardized half-assed version of what they did. Basically, for those of you that have not seen Hyperbole and a Half, you should check it out. My blog is not the best blog, it is only a tribute to the best blog.
I think the reason I find Hyperbole and a Half to be the best blog I've ever read is because the writer takes already awesome childhood stories and illustrates them with awesome pictures. It's like reading a really sarcastic kid's book. I'm discovering that the best stories that ever get told always start out with "When I was a little kid, I did something stupid and the consequences were hilarious" or "When you were a little kid, you did something stupid and we both had to deal with the hilarious consequences." Mom, Dad, Kelly, and Max, thanks for dealing with the consequences of my 4-year-old birthday party.My sister and I have our birthdays 4 days apart. Growing up, my mom could only handle one party at a time, so Kelly and I would switch off every year, who got a party (YAY!), or who got a special dinner with the family (Boo...). I loved turning even ages because that meant I got a party and Kelly could suck it. For my 4th birthday, I wanted Mexican food and I wanted all my friends over. I loved tacos, refried beans and mexi fries (tater tots), and my mom was nice enough to feed all my friends my special meal.
Before dinner was served, we were all running around the house hyped up on the promise of cake and presents. My mom was cooking and doing pretty well keeping her cool despite the crashing and thumping coming from the next room. She was almost finished cooking, and I was getting hungry (I was and am always hungry). She was just pulling the mexi fries out of the oven to cool, and one feel on the floor. My dog Max was quick to get it.The mexi fry was extremely hot and dead set on ruining everything (as you can clearly see above). Poor Max burned her stomach on the evil, molten fry, and ended up getting sick in the dining room.Mom was trying to finish cooking and getting all the little kids ready for dinner, so she sent dad to clean up the vomit. While he was getting a rag and some cleaning spray, I wandered into the dining room, ready to sit down and eat. I found the pile of vomit, but had no idea what it was (I was not familiar with the dark brown color and lumpy texture of canine ralf).After that, I threw up. Everywhere. I remember my mom giving me a bucket and rubbing my back while my dad was on the phone with poison control (the one and only time they ever needed to call poison control). While my dad attempted to explain exactly HOW his daughter ended up eating dog vomit, my mom tried to get all the kids to the table and ignore the retching sound coming from the kitchen.
For some reason, I remember my parents laughing the whole time I was throwing up.
After that, I felt totally fine. Poison Control said I would be ok, and that dog vomit is non-toxic. When the mess was cleaned up, I sat down and ate my whole meal, including the refried beans (like I said, I'm always hungry) and, despite the attempts of the evil mexi fry, actually had a pretty good birthday.