Why Hast Mario Batali Forsaken Me?

Last night, I had dinner with a friend at Otto, Mario Batali's casual dining (read: cheaper than his others) establishment. It was quite tasty. There was bread, and prosciutto, and olives, and cauliflower, and lentils, and an anchovy pizza, because I love anchovies. I left stuffed and happy.

Now, I can't for sure blame this on Mario Batali, but about an hour ago I became suddenly, violently ill. I will say that I had the same nachos for lunch that I've had the past two days, and that's all I've had since shoving all of that wonderful Italian food in my mouth. But it could have been anything, I suppose. Bacteria in my coffee maker, for instance. Or a flu. If it was Red Beard's fault, the anchovies are the culprit, because my friend and I shared everything else and he's fine. All I know for sure is that I just spent a good 15 minutes dry heaving, and it would appear that the contents of my stomach are itching to come out one way or another.

Tonight's the Bolt bash, which makes my illness bad for two reasons:

1) I really want to go, and it's one long-ass subway ride to get there.

2) I haven't seen my ex-coworkers in years, and if I do make it, I really don't want people to be all, "Have you seen Jess? She looks like crap!" It's bad enough they'll probably be all, "Wow, Jess gained a lot of weight."

Oh well. Time for more tea, saltines and Pepto. Wish me luck.