Monday, October 26, 2009


The remaining 6 days of my trip were spent in varying degrees of pain due to Montezuma and his poisoned waters.

Here's two words when put together, make you frown inside:
Mexican Buffet (in Mexico)

I view American buffet's standards as sketchy. Keeping internal foods at 140 degrees farenheit to prevent bacteria from forming is hard.
I know, I worked at Subway.
(Side note: I wrote "Sandwich Artist" under title for my resume coming out of college. Meant to be tongue in cheek, multiple people at my first job somehow took it seriously and referred to me as "The Artiste" behind my back)

In both buffets' defense, my wife did not get sick.

In fact, I think I know why I got sick.
I'm a mouth breather.
Not all the time, just in the shower. Can't help it.
Every morning I'd be spitting water droplets from my slack-jawed front-hole.
Those little droplets housed an army of diarreah.

We went on a few tours, saw a ton of sites, and got fleeced by the locals for all they could beg/borrow/steal. Rather than fumble through explanations, I'll just link to My Flickr Stream for Oaxaca.
Cheers, all.

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