Warning: If you have a queasy stomach when you read the word "puke", don't read this.
So yesterday my stomach hurt REAAAAAAALLLY bad, and I tweeted that it felt like an Alien was trying to eat its way out of my stomach. I went to G's that evening, because he had ginger ale and comfy sweats and I had neither of those things. He was being so sweet and trying to take care of me.
G: So what do you want me to make you for dinner?
Me: If I eat anything, I will puke but thanks for the offer.
G: No you need to eat something. How about soup?
Me: I will seriously puke no matter what I eat, even soup.
G: Here's some chicken soup. I'll make it for you.
Me: I will puke if I eat chicken soup or anything else.
G: But I love you, and love means no puke.
A little while later:
G: Seriously though, what are we going to have for dinner?
Me: I'm having nothing and you can have whatever you want.
G: WE can have chicken soup for dinner.
Me: I will still puke if I eat anything.
G: We can puke together then.
Me: Um, that's sweet I guess, but I'll pass.
So then I went to bed a little while after that without eating anything and woke this morning and my tummy is mostly all better.