I think I hate something bad.
I don't know if it was a case of one snack or a multitude of snacks, but all of a sudden, I was hurling acid and pooping goo in the wee hours of March 7.
I was practically like Russell Westbrook in my quest to live life to the fullest.
Anyway, I still have warm hands - which means I am either dehydrated or touched an oven.