My tummy hurts today.
I was awakened by a 3:45am craving for a PB&J; luckily I have a jar of Grape goober sitting in my cupboard, but alas no bread! I was so inclined, in my zombie like state, to utilize the hamburger buns I had set atop the fridge after making my faux buffalo chicken sandwich the evening pervious. Was this a good idea? Was any of it? The PB&J, the Fake bird? Why of course it wasn’t a good idea, says my inside gastro mind. It was a stupid stupid fucking idea. The Coca-Cola? The canned peaches? I woke up with instead of my regular happy digestive weasels, angry weasels tied into knots, screaming bloody fucking hell, asking for mercy and death. Poor weasels…. I thought perhaps after a short while they would shut up, but now here I am at work at the beck and call of these ferocious internal beasties. If I ever I believed there was no god, it would be now, in this time of great digestive trauma.

In other thoughts, apparently I am not human anymore as my friend (?) and co-worker, constantly treats me like shit. Talks down to me, asks me not to talk, says rude things to me in meetings, and I will not get into how I feel about things on any personal level. For that is long and drawn out and depressing, and I wish not to bother you all with such nonsense. What can I say however for old friends becoming new again? I feel blessed (by who or what I do not know) for reconnecting with Becky (Rebecca) as I have missed her witty banter and youthful optimism. Now I must go and continue the drudgery that is my day-to-day life. Call if you want this weekend looks to be uneventful, but full of Love.