It appears, though I was convinced for a spell I would succumb to some dark death, that the honey sesame chicken assassins from Panda Express have failed in their attempt to remove me from this plane of existence.  

What I once considered a delectable treat, the aforementioned honey sesame chicken, now holds a top spot on my list of consumables that have betrayed me, right beneath, or perhaps even above peach schnapps.

The last few days have been a blur of painful stomach violations induced by some insidious poison I am certain was meant to cripple me to the point of lifelessness. It has been four days since the unwarranted attempt on my life, I’ve come through the worst of it and am now certain I will make a full recovery. Then again, I was celebrating my victory at this time yesterday when the pain resurfaced and I readied myself to bid a fond farewell to this cruel world.

But I am strong. I’ll not be felled by the contents of a styrofoam box of fast food Chinese(ish) take out.

I’ve never been the target of assassination by food before. I always thought there would be more purging of all things ingested, but my case has consisted of mostly pain. Excruciating, labor-like, and unrelenting pain. The worst of the pain has subsided for the most part now though, leaving me feeling a little more than slightly weakened and afraid to consume anything but liquids . . . damn you Panda Express.