Literally 60 seconds after I wrote the above post my lady leans off the couch and blows chunks all over the floor. Wtf?! And the last thing she ate was cookies n milk so it literally smells like a 130 pounds baby puked all over my living room.
The irony? She ate the last of something in the fridge I specifically asked her to save for me. I love her to death, but that'll teach her to eat ole iron guts leftovers.
