June 26, 2002 | 11:07 PM

File this under top ten ugly moments in the life of Our Lady of Perpetual Trauma.

I got out of my second job around 9:15 tonight and was walking towards the T when all of a sudden I was overcome by a need for some kind of protein. The need overtook my body like the Nazis marching into Poland and I knew that if I didn�t chow on a cheeseburger or something else suitably greasy and meaty immediately, I would quite possibly faint.

As luck would have it there was a McDonald�s just up ahead and I ducked inside and lurched towards the counter. I could barely get the words out,

One greasy disgusting cheeseburger please.

My head was swimming. The parasitic mass of cells that is holding my uterus hostage right now screamed for its processed protein fix.

It was served up to me in no time flat.

I sat down at a booth and unwrapped the sucker greedily like a new toy at Christmas. I haven�t been to a McDonalds in a long time and tend to think of their �food� as being one rung up the gourmet ladder from Soviet gruel. But I anticipated joy and satiation from my $0.99 acquisition.

Boy, was I wrong.

Immediately after taking my first mouthful, I felt my face squinch up in disgust. I looked at the burger and inside it was red and oozing blood. It had barely been cooked.

My stomach churned. And before I could run to the bathroom, I began choking and gagging.

And ladies and gentlemen, right in the middle of the most ghetto fabulous McDonalds in the greater Boston area, I threw up.

The whole place came to a halt. Everyone stared.

So what did I do?

Well, what any sane person would do.

I threw the burger on the ground and I bolted outta there faster than Jackie Joyner Kersey on a kilo of coke. I sprinted to the Hynes Convention Center T stop like I was being followed by the secret police.

Can I say one more time how much this sucks?

Ok, I will.