they say the gays are cultured and refined

Fair Warning: If you are eating, have a weak constitution, or are nursing small children, do not read the following Ramblings submission.

As I am sure I have said before, it takes a lot to really embarrass me. It doesn’t take much (if anything) to make me feel self-conscious or not-good-enough, but it does take a fairly special happening to make me want to turn away in shame or crawl into a dark hole until everyone else has gone far, far away. Most of the time, I don’t really care what people think. However, if the thing that they might possibly think is, ‘Oh, dear God! He is the most disgusting thing I have seen in forever!” then that is a different story altogether.
I have been sick for about a couple months. I get a cold and it lasts for a few weeks, then I think I am ok. Sure enough, a bit later, here comes another cold with a different assortment of symptoms. My principal assures me this is just run of the mill for a first year teacher. I would think since I have been counseling/teaching kids for the past eight years I would be able to bypass that particular gift of joy from the children. Apparently not. This latest blissful infestation has been a ton of coughing, occasional chills, exhaustion, an appetite that is never satiated (I have never experienced anything like this hunger before—really helping ‘my-so-called-diet’), and lots and lots and lots and lots of snot. So much snot that it not only requires me to blow my nose in a near constant fashion, but also is relentlessly draining down my throat. As my stomach prefers cheeseburgers, tortillas, and cookie dough to snot, I am often on the verge of throwing up. This is especially true in the mornings. I am constantly gagging and nearly tossing my cookies—thus far I have just been regurgitating 80’s neon yellow and green slime, complete with chunky egg yolkish lumps (told ya not to read this). With all the nausea, you would think it was morning sickness. Luckily, I am on The Pill, so there shouldn’t be a problem. If there is, someone’s gonna receive a nasty letter.
All of this said to let you understand my state of existence as of late.
Well, this morning, as per normal, I drop Chad off at his work in Downtown Denver at one of the high-rise law firm building. After he gets out, I stop in a crosswalk at the stoplight before I can turn and head back to the highway to go to school. While at this mentioned red light, one more glorificus wave of slimy nausea rolls over me. I crack open my door, make a loud plethora of cacophonous old man sounds and retch as I force the pulsing goo from my belly, through my throat, out my door, and onto the street. Relieved that I can once again breathe and that I have, for the time being managed to not officially throw up (one of my top least favorite pastimes) I glance up as I return my door to its shut and rightful position. During this task, I take in two women (maybe lawyers, I don’t know) in business suits, less than two feet in front of me, walking to my door. In revulsion, they split. One going in front of the car, the other going behind. There were many others around, however, they thankful blurred in my vision, so my acknowledged humiliation was limited. I quickly made my turn and squelched the instinct to look in the rearview mirror.