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It was 2am and the last few hours had been lost in the cold, tacky and cheerless safety of the porcelain god. Food poisoning, truly an experience in misery, where choices in self-medication are limited to That Which May Be Found Within Bolting Distance. And I knew that somewhere in the house was a container of pepto-type medication. Desperate, after several hours of throwing up and sitting down, I combed the cabinets. The heavens opened and I was bathed in golden rays of hope when I wrapped my shivering fingers around the bottle.

What I didn't realize was how old it was. Or rather, I didn't, until after I'd quaffed dose 1 of 2.

Even in my weakened state I was still forced to pause and give thought to this. After all the expiration date on the back said "2000".

What the hell. I decided to down the second dose and take my chances, after all any worse off than I currently was would probably equate to immediate intervention or unconsciousness. Both of which could be dramatic improvements over the current state of misery.

Needless, I survived, none the worse for wear, at least as far as I can tell. Nonetheless I did go out and buy a new bottle. After all there was a 33% chance I'd get worse as opposed to a 66% that I'd get better or at least stay the same. Certainly doesn't hurt, at least not as badly as I did...