A few years ago, I found myself vomiting profusely for reasons unknown but likely related to a child picking up random stuff on the ground and then sticking her fingers in my mouth. It was the kind of endless anguish that left me atoning and bargaining. As I clutched the toilet bowl, heaving, I even tried positive psychology, which shows you how desperate I was.
I realized that while this was bad, it could be worse. Yes, I could be projectile vomiting while being simultaneously fucked in the ass by Ron Jeremy. I don’t know why my mind wandered there, but I actually felt better for a second. Word to the wise: it can *always* be worse.
Then a few months later, I ran across an excerpt from Ron Jeremy’s autobiography. Remind me to save up for the whole enchilada some day, it seems like a thing.
I read in horror, mouth slack, as he spun a yarn about shooting a scene on a boat with a lead actress so seasick that she was leaning over the rail vomiting.
Even Ron found this off-putting, but the show must go on: “If you’ve never had the chance to fuck a woman while she’s vomiting over the side of a ship, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Dreams really do come true. People are professionals. There you have it.
This vomit/fuck scenario became my personal yardstick (har har) for abject terribility. Is it a Ron Jeremy moment? We hope we never find out, but life typically imitates art. Especially today. Once you’ve looked over that rail, where do you go next? Well, according to Ron, back to shore to recover and fake some orgasm reaction shots. I’m still weighing my options.