Spewfest: Jamaican-tour-bus-style

There are few things more embarrassing than a public spewfest, but really now, a public spewfest is never really a good thing. That is, unless you can write about your spewfest on a blog.

Spewfests and me have always had a tight-knit bond. We skip along hand in hand with one another. We braid one another's hair. We can even act cheesy together like a Mentos commercial. The simple truth is that spewfests and I have experienced sooo much together. We have shared our experiences with the likes of strangers whom we know are only putting on disgusted faces as to not give us a big head. We know that people are jealous when we hang out together because they know we're going to have a good story at the end of it all.

Before telling my first of many stories about spewfest, I must state that NO, I do not freakin' binge and purge. Yucky. However, aren't ALL spewfests binging and purging? You have to eat or drink something in order for it to come up. I love eating and drinking. The thing is that I have had lifelong motion sickness, obviously only occurring when in motion. In fact, the reason why I decided to write about this today is because I was typing away at my new job (the reason why my posts have been sparse as of late), and as I was rocking away in my desk chair, I began to feel a bit queasy. Yeah. How's that for dorky? As long as I don't need a helmut like Natalie Portman in Garden State, I figure I'm good to go.

Several years ago, several friends and I decided to vacation in Jamaica for a few days. The resort and beach were beautiful, but obviously very manufactured. We wanted to get out and see what the real Jamaica was about. And I'm not talking about pot-smoking, man. I'm talking about getting on a tour bus and driving by 10' x 10' shacks where people live. I'm talking about watching peeps walk around with 50 lb pots on their heads with no hands. I'm talking about dodging on-coming traffic on windy single-laned dirt roads. It was all so cool, but oops... I forgot to take my Dramamine.

Being the superficial chick I am, I HAD to sit in the back of the tour bus where all the cool people sit. And then, bumpity-bump-bump, bumpity-bump, look at spewfest GO! Actually, I started making my way to the front of the bus, falling into people's laps because our driver was a freak of nature. When I tried to point my fingers to my mouth and my stomach, the people in the front of the bus all got scared. Before I knew it, the whole bus was begging the driver to pull over. The driver finally pulled over and spewfest and I once again reunited on the side of the dirt road.

DIDN'T YOU KNOW? Spewfests are freakin' embarrassing, particularly if you have to make a Jamaican tour bus pull over for you.

This is the word of The Superficial Plaza Chick