This Would Never Have Happened in Ohio

Filed under living in new york sucks so hard, my uber-confrontational personality, no i really do love ohio

So I have food poisoning, right? Which is sort of a joy right now, because while I was home in Ohio this past weekend, I tried on my bridesmaid’s dress for my best friend, Tracey’s wedding in March, and it turns out that I’m about five inches of torso away from getting the thing zipped. (She found THE dress discontinued and on sale and thought she could guess my size but no doubt bought it too small in an attempt to not offend me.) So I vomited about eighteen times yesterday at work and stayed home today, which is sort of great because I managed to lose four pounds in 24 hours thanks to not being able to keep even water down but sort of sucks because the meal I was vomiting up was grilled chicken and steamed vegetables instead of something I felt guilty about and wanted to purge, like pecan pie and maple ice cream.

At 3:30 this afternoon, I finally got to a place where I thought I could successfully stand up, and the pepperoni and pepperjack cheese in Kamran’s refrigerator didn’t sound so delicious, so I walked down the street to his Gristedes to buy some Jell-o and soup. I had been in front of the Campbell’s for maybe ten minutes, trying to find something, anything, without starch and sugar and tomatoes, when this stylish Nordic guy on a mobile phone dropped his box of pasta while walking in front of me. I excused the fact that he hadn’t excused himself before blocking my view of the soup and said, “I got it,” though bending over in my state of sickliness seemed like the worst idea possible. The guy kept chatting in his foreign tongue as I placed the box on top of his other items, and then he simply walked away.

While he was well within earshot, I said in my most monotone voice, “No problem. Glad I could help. Say no more.” The woman beside me shot me the dirtiest look and obviously scolded me in some language I didn’t recognize, so I turned, puked the last of the contents of my stomach all over her droll little fur hat, and went home to enjoy my Jell-o.

THIS is New York. Assholes.


  1. Sonya says:

    I think you are my hero… but just a little :)

  2. caropal says:

    Please tell me this actually happened. Because, if it did, I’m pretty sure that my mind would EXPLODE with happiness, and it would take a DAMN LOT to bump you from my Most Favoritist lit.

  3. spaghedeity says:

    It’s so strange that I posted an entry about food just after you. Or perhaps not so strange, because I only ever write about food and purging, anyway.

    Here’s to hoping you stay sick until March, right?

  4. Clarke says:

    I’m was very worried you weren’t going to vomit on anyone, but am very pleased you did. Sorry I’ve been a slacker on commenting. You’re way ahead of me.

  5. Tracey says:

    When are you going to stop blaming this dress-mess on me? Someone I know told me exactly which one to get.

    I mean, uh, sorry you’re sick! Love you!

  6. Kelly says:

    Katie Ett is my hero, for she does things like puke on fussy little ladies.

    There is nothing small about your life.

  7. Kim says:

    1.) Gristedes, pfft. D’Agostino’s is the only way to go. Well, I mean, unless you venture up and east enough to shop exclusively at The Vinegar Factory.

    2.) Amazing, Katie. I am so pleased by this story. It better be true.

    • There’s a Gristedes two blocks away, an Amish Market six blocks away, and a D’Ag alllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way down the street. And I’m not willing to exert energy for my low-carb ice cream.


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  2. Unapologetically Mundane » The Week of Tracey’s Wedding Minus the Wedding Itself