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my mom gets sick from oysters.
my favorite story about her getting sick was when she was vacationing in france with my dad. they had an expensive meal at a fancy restaraunt with seafood and wine (and probably snails because it was france, and the french sometimes eat weird things, like mayonnaise with fries). after their meal, they went to the louvre and wandered through centuries and centuries of glorious, glorious art. somewhere between the mona lisa and the picasso, my mom started to get that salty taste in her mouth that one gets right before the peristaltic muscles go into an uncontrollable spastic panic. looking around in a sweaty, gurgling frenzy, she tried to find a bathroom, but the only thing she could see were hallways and hallways of priceless art. without a toilet, bucket or pillbox hat available, she hid behind one of the statues and ejected her meal. little colored bits of carrot, oysters and maybe even mayonnaise spilled into that little tiny corner of the louvre.
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words (c) filmfatale industries
2000
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