Thank Goddess for Gatorade and Snooki Levine

It came through after a tumultuous week of food poisoining from this Soho Mexican restaurant where Haifa-born waiters serve tacos to pay for their Baruch College undergraduate degrees. I didn't anticipate that upon inhaling my salad, in an aesthetically pleasing dining space, with genuinely divine conversation with Freunde, that my stomach and the ingredients being consumed, would choose to have a nuclear war. Or perhaps the ingredients, like North Korea, began the war. And then me, poor Ellie Mae, entered Methodist Hospital ER, where this unkind doctor said I could only spend a few hours in her hospital hotel. I like hospitals, particularly when I'm not well. They put me on IV, gave me anti-nausea meds, and a few days later, I'm returning to a semi-conscious state. I am sad cause I wanted to dress up as Snooki Levine for Halloween--bought the wig, makeup, nail polish--everything to be this big-breasted Jersey icon. But alas, my canine, Virginia Woolf, did the deed. She looked divine. Many friends think I mistreat the canine by making her wear a Snooki wig, but alas, she is Snooki Levine.