This is my second attempt at a blog, the first one dieing years ago due to disinterest and terrible spelling. The time seems ripe to try again though, so for my first post I'm going to cover what the entirety of the last blog was about: My failed quest to get food poisoning.
It was a simple dream: eat some rancid meat, get horribly sick and be bed ridden for (hopefully) a week or two. I wasn't good enough at faking sick to pull it off for as long as I wanted, and even if I could that would still require waking up every morning to put on a show. I just wanted some sleep, so a real disease seemed like my best bet. In retrospect, I think this might have been silly logic. Oh well.
My first attempts were small. Leave some fruit on the shelf for a week, eat. Leave a little bit of meatloaf sitting around in a beam of sunshine, consume. It wasn't that hard to eat either, all it took was ripping the stuff into swallowable chunks and immediately washing it down with coke. I don't think I had to actually taste anything I ate during this entire endeavor.
I moved on to raw meat pretty quickly when old food failed to do anything, although raw pork chops and chicken proved to be just as useless as rotting fruit. I was a little mad about that, spending a night butchering a frozen chicken with a hacksaw and shoving the resulting bits in my mouth wasn't very fun, and so far there had been absolutely no payoff.
Thinking that maybe my stomach acid was somehow destroying all the disease I was eating, I set out to grow mold in lemon juice. It took a few months, but eventually I had a cup completely covered in powdery gray fuzz. Eating this did nothing. The next day I checked the cup and discovered that the fuzz had been attached to some giant, amoeba-like thing. Eating it didn't do anything either, I was still perfectly fine.
Finally, out of desperation, I ate the most disgusting thing I could find. I had a pet turtle at the time, and it had recently lain an egg. A bit of the shell had cracked, letting it's innards mix with the layer of turtle shit and goldfish remains at the bottom of the tank. I ate the egg, happy that I'd finally get some time to sleep in.
The next day, I had diarrhea.
I just wasn't willing to eat disgusting shit anymore without any payout. There were months of effort put into this, more then I usually waste on anything, and it was almost entirely pointless in the end.
I might have gotten a tapeworm out of the whole experience, which thrived for about a year before starving to death, but that is a story for another day.