
On Christmas morning, 1995, after all the presents were open, and our bellies were full of Dad’s famous pancakes, I retreated to the upstairs bathroom for my usual routine. I threw up everything as fast as I could to get that buzzy head rush that I just adored. When I flushed, the toilet started to overflow…no problem, the handy plunger was right there, so I began to plunge. This time it wasn’t going to work, the toilet completely overflowed filling the bathroom floor with pancake-water. I tried my best to sop it up with toilet paper and paper towels, and it seemed the worst was behind me, but oh no, it was just beginning. I heard a scream from the downstairs from my mom. She screamed my name so I ran to the kitchen. She was standing there with a scowl on her face, while my brothers and my father were on a ladder at the ceiling lamp recovering the massive amounts of pancake-water-throw-up that was pouring out from the ceiling. It was disgusting, and my entire fault.
I will never forget the look on my mother’s face, and when she said, “But Tara, It’s Christmas!”

Just stumbled upon your blogger profile, in very random fashion (okay fine: we both like Tori Amos, don't tell my guy buddies (just her early stuff!)), but very happily random. One click led to another and I was skimming through your blogs, and I think you're fantastic. I am an instant fan, of both the Try and Don't Try blogs (love how you did that, by the way).
ReplyDeleteSo I just wanted you to know that. Especially since I've subscribed and I didn't want you to think I'm some random weirdo stalker guy. Because I'm not. Well, I'm not a stalker, anyway. I hope it's okay that I post this here. Hi.
Well thank you very much Johnny C. Georgie! Glad to hear it.
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