I know what you’re wondering. You’re wondering, “Hey, Tom, how did you spend the eve of your 34th birthday?” Well, I’ll tell you! I spent it spraying congealed vomit off of our sidewalk! It wasn’t my vomit, nor Alissa’s, nor Amanda’s, and I don’t think it was anyone’s that we knew, but I wasn’t about to go out of my way to find out whose it was because, as I’m sure some of you know, “you can’t really dust for vomit.”
As disgusting as it was – and it was spectacularly disgusting in both sight and smell – the spewer got an impressive spread. The initial impact site was a good two-foot area in diameter, but there were significant splatter effects for at least 6 feet all around. Stuck as I was staring at the mess, I was able to determine that the upchucking consisted of french fries, some sort of meat product (likely hamburger,) and a vanilla shake, the latter of which seemed to have helped it adhere to the concrete with an admirable amount of persistence. Eventually the mass broke up, little blobs decorating the street, but not without leaving an apparently indelible stain on the concrete to remind me of this wonderful afternoon spent celebrating the last hours of my 33rd year around the sun – and also why we will never, ever buy a house on the corner of a busy street again.
(It’s also a reminder of how I have indeed gotten older – just a couple of years ago, I surely would have gotten a before and after shot of the mass-ejection. I’m a little disappointed now, I have to admit.)
Known Johnson 
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