The 'S' Word

Dear Grub,

We have never met, you and I, but in some ways, I feel like I know you intimately. Sometime between 11pm and 1am last Saturday, you threw up in my bicycle basket parked just outside the Lass O’Gowrie Hotel in Newcastle. This one small action taught me so much about you. I know, for example, you had pasta with what appears to be bits of chicken for dinner that night. You don’t chew your food very well. You drank a little bit too much, and, you are a dick head.

In some ways, my little Vom-a-Tron, you and I are similar. I too, know what it is like to drink so much I vomit. I too have vomited in inappropriate places. My parents carpet, the nature strip outside of a multi-million dollar house in Tamarama, my handbag whilst on a train and memorably, in the middle of the…

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