GERRRRRRD.

So last night I might have had an allergic reaction to Target, which I suppose is entirely possible, considering I go there a few times a week, and even though I love it, sometimes it's downright upsetting. Like when too many hostile people in the aisles act like they want you dead? Or when you spend over a hundred dollars and only walk out with 2 bags. And has anyone else ever experienced the Retail Upset-Stomach Phenomenon where you start shopping in a store--usually Barnes & Noble, for some reason--and all of a sudden you feel like you're going to die, maybe because of the stale, recycled air, or the flourescent lighting, or both? Target does that to me every now and then.

More likely, though, it is the hateful return of morning sickness, or acid reflux, or ulcers, or GERD. Whatever it is that makes me vomit. Sigh.

I just wanted to buy some eggs for these really, really tasty chocolate peanut butter cheesecake bars I was going to bake and bring in to the Thanksgiving Potluck today. And also, if I could get an anniversary present for my husband, that would be good. Nothing fancy, since we're a little low on cash these days, trying to save for the little one and all. First-year anniversary gifts are traditionally paper, so I thought I'd go with that. I won't say how, just in case he reads this, but I had a few ideas.

Almost immediately after picking up a basket at the front of the store, however, my stomach started burning. Maybe it was the stupid joke I told myself about choosing a basket instead of a cart, because isn't it bad to put all your eggs in one basket? Har har. Har. Blah. But my stomach hasn't really burned like this in a few months. And I haven't thrown up since I started taking the magical Little Purple Pill called Nexium. It's supposed to HEAL the damage, dammit. So why is it, all of a sudden, that my Evil Nemesis, Vomitousness, has returned?

I had to leave Target as quickly as possible. I just bought the eggs and busted out of there. Then I went home and threw up. Several miserable times. I went to bed instead of watching Lost. I never made my fabulous cheesecake bars. And since I had to bring something in today, I just took the only thing on the shelf that wasn't opened, which was a package of Winter Oreos, with the red middle. Sure, they're an old crowd favorite, and I'm sure they'll go, but still...how lame.

Maybe it was just one day. Maybe it was the fresh red and green peppers that were in the Godfather Salad for Salad Day. Maybe my baby has a full head of hair, which is supposed to cause heartburn, according to the Old Wives, or maybe the baby's just getting too big and pushing everything, including the acid that apparently never diminished after quitting Verizon Wireless, upward. I don't know. But I'm irritated, bitter, and pouty just thinking about it. Because it's Potluck Day, people! And we're going out to a really nice dinner on Sunday. And next week is Thanksgiving! And have I mentioned that I really, really like to eat. I mean, besides the whole sustenance thing, and the eating-for-two thing. I enjoy food to an absurd degree.

And I hate, I hate, I HATE vomiting. I know, who likes vomiting. (Besides Kim.) But I'd rather shove bamboo shoots under my toenails, or something else unimaginably horrid--like watch an America's Funniest Home Videos Marathon, if given the choice.

Wah. You should see how many desserts there are in the kitchen.