Why do dogs get stuck with being called "sick"?

I am sick as a dog. Well, I was, earlier. Now I'm at home recuperating. People who know me know that I don't really get sick and they all hate me for it. Well I'm sorry, I just don't. My mom throws a fit every time I have the gall to declare that and will get very serious faced and say ok, now you must chant to Buddha because you should not be tempting the heavens to teach you a lesson in retribution for your arrogance, god forbid. Now chant! I used to be wary of saying that as well in my younger years, because who really wants a lesson about their arrogance from the heavens above? At this point though, at the ripe old age of 32 and a quarter, I figure I'm safe enough. I've lived roughly half my life, and so, if I start getting sick for the rest of my 30s, who cares? Your body falls apart on you when you hit 40 anyway, and everyone's sick in their 50s, and hell if you don't at least have a mild case of dyspeptia or some sort of hernia to complain about when you're in your 60s you're conversationally impotent. But I digress.

I am sick today because I had 3 too many Tokyotinis last night, and even a delicious bacon egg & cheese sandwich couldn't save me from turning today into one of the dingiest lowpoints in my life. First, I had to run to the bathroom at work to expunge the contents of my stomach. That was extremely pleasant. After 30 minutes of slouching at my desk and not at all feeling better, I decided f- it, I'm going home. We have email, phone, blackberries, citrix, and in the last 7 months, I have taken just 3 days off. I can afford to be sick and go home. I'll still declare that "I never call in sick!" because I'm telling everyone that I will be working from home. I'm cagey like that!

I can't stand the idea of having to wait for the trains and then the whole starting and stopping nonsense given that I almost threw up on the subway on my way in, so I flag down a cab and after giving my address I promptly semi-lie down. It was the longest cab ride ever. When we were a block away, I got up to get ready to pay but got hit with that immediate feeling of oh shit I am about to spew. I tried to hold it in, I really did. But hey it's springtime in NYC, and the maelstrom in my stomach wanted to bust out and party so bust out indeed it did. In my attempt to spare any kind of dignity there was left (none), and honor a taxi driver's simple, humble request (Please do not vomit in my cab), I covered my mouth as it was happening. This, of course, backfired. Vomitous Maelstrom was all HAHAHA you have underestimated my very force and I shall now teach you a lesson about your arrogance! and the yak went everywhere. On my coat, on my pants, and on my face, hair and all over the floor. The cabbie LOVED it. He gave me some paper towels, I gave him an extra twenty and we parted ways blowing kisses and promising to do this again "real soon!" I ran into my building warning Rich the Doorman to stay away from me, and then felt really bad for the two suckers I had to share the elevator with (one of whom was carrying lunch) all the way up to my apartment.

Folks, I gotta tell you. I am too old for this shit. And, it's disgusting. And I can't believe I want to publish this on the internet. The whole anonymous thing is irrelevant since the only person who reads this knows who I am. And is quite possibly the last friend I have left in this world. And that's before reading this. I guess I should go call that cabbie.