Burdensome Broccoli or The New Wingman?

Tonight started out good..a few of us went to Kate the Great's bachelorette party and ate dinner,played games, had girl talk, etc. For some reason, I was obsessed with the broccoli. I literallly could not get enough of it, and single handedly consumed the entire broccoli section of the veggie platter. I was even thinking how proud my trainer would be that I was eating large quantities of vegetables. Fast Forward to about 2 hours later...my sweet little Lorvis was depressed and so I suggested we go people watch at Habits (FYI--the cheesiest, most hilarious (pathetic) club in SLC) as we were driving there I started to get a little sick to my stomach...and kept getting this wicked broccoli after taste. Fast Forward again to the dance floor. At one point while we are dancing, Lowder makes a face and says "OH MY GOSH SOMEONE STINKS" I laughed because I wouldn't put it past the classy crowd there. Not too long after that, she notices it again. I am starting to realize, my indegestion/broccoli burps are the horrific smell Lowder is smelling. So I made a mental note to keep it in. After we stopped dancing for awhile, we decided to relax against a wall and people watch. Pretty soon, Rico Suave himself saunters up with his big collar shirt unbuttoned down to his belly button with his Magnum PI chest hair hanging out all over the place and tries to make friendly conversation with me. Apparently I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever seen at the club and he just had to come say hi. So I try to be friendly to him though I am far from interested and in the meantime, there is a war going on inside my stomach and I'm starting to sweat and not in the cutesy perspiration glow way...more like the I just ran a marathon and need a good shower kind of dripping sweat. Mr. Suave is trying his hardest to get my phone number, I'm trying my hardest to get away from him so I don't accidentally burp in his face and then it happened, he turned away to chat with his friend and I took the opportunity to quickly burp and relieve some of that building pressure...just as Mr. Suave turns back to talk to me. I am pretty sure that wiff of stale broccoli hit him in the face like a ton of bricks as made evident by the nauseated look on his face. He then turned to say goodnight and I was spared of him asking for my number. Broccoli proved to be a better wingman than my two friends. Gosh, I'm sick...