WTF in a bowl

OMG Okay, so I won't try 'authentic Indian cuisine' again. And, no, not Native American 'Indian;' but back of a f*cking camel in hot ass India, Indian, red-dot on the forehead, towel turban wearing smelly horny men, Indian. (Don't go on Ryze if you're a woman and you don't want men Indian men to call you a Goddess. I mean, I KNOW that I am, but they don't need to tell a married woman that.)

On Friday, the family decided to see ICE AGE 2 (Diego RULZ!! Here kitty kitty... I even have a stuffie of him now!) As we were already 'out,' DH decided to 'try something new' and 'broaden our culinary horizons.' Out of town. A highway drive away from home. NOT a good idea for anyone who has suffered IBS symptoms. New food and highway travel are a recipe for disaster.

A new restaurant opened in nearby Swampland, MI. (about a 20 to 30 min drive from home) I'm not one to stray far outside my norm when it comes to eating; not if I want the food to stay where I put it, anyway. It's all about GASTRONOMIC DISTRESS, also known as gastroinestinal pyrotechnics, to put things mildly.

The door opens, and we are met with high pitched pig-squealing bitches belly dancing on a TV screen mounted in the corner. Wonderful start. Thank gawd they have pretty clothes. I'd kill for a figure suitable to wear one of those outfits. Anway, nothing on the menu looked appetizing. Ironically, I have a talented tongue... a real proclivity for pronounciation (what did you think I was gonna say?? gutterminded people... LOL) And even though I could produce a fair imitation of their dialect, my guts couldn't process their damned food.

The pashawar naan was great, a flat bread with fruits and nuts baked in, but that's where the goodness stopped. The entrees were f*cking scary. Well, the rice wasn't, but DAMN the steaming sh*t in those bowls... Ew! I ordered some kind of lamb something... Put it this way, it smelled like an unwashed arab man's armpits and look like it had been forced through one of his orafices. WTF? Chunks of lamb, stewed, aldulterated in some tomatoe something pasty sh*t, with chunks of tomatoe, onion and green peppers. And, that's just what I could identify!

I masitcated as much as I could, which wasn't much at all. My guts kind of clamped, and began to gnarl as I sat. I tried a suck of mango shake. I hate mango. But I was desparate to wash that crap out of my mouth. By the time we left, I felt like I was going to explode, one way or another.

We flew through a Dollar Store to get some Immodium. I grabbed the wrong damn box!! I thought for sure I was going to DIE. I think at one point I wanted to. It was at then that I made my mind work. "Mind over matter," they say. I am very strong minded; some might say that I am damn stubborn... (shuttup, those of you who do) So, I decided to force that misery away. I'm okay... I'm tougher than this... I'm okay.

It worked.

And I learned something. More than never to eat that sh*t again. If I can control those gut wrenching IBS syptoms, I can do anything I put my mind to.

Anything.