1. Sunday, June 29, 2003

    being the holy day 

    today we’re going to outright steal something from someone else’s blog because it’s wonderful.

    Tuesday, June 17, 2003

    Not at all interesting:

    I know you all love my inane blather so much that you haven’t really missed the inclusion of photos in my posts, but I have decided to bring them back because, well, I like looking at celebrities of either gender in low-cut ensembles, so you are just going to have to deal with it.

    This weekend I wasn’t very productive. I basically just spent a lot of time sleeping fitfully because it’s so fucking hot on the third floor of my loft, but there is no other place for me to sleep so I just turn the fan to the highest setting, point it at myself and then grab onto something so I don’t get blown off the bed. I did go out and get my friend Karen some bourbon for her birthday present, because nothing says friendship like hard liquor. Her birthday party was funtimes and I got to reconnect with a couple of ladies that I think are pretty kickass, and since I’m now a freewheelin’ single gal, I’m glad I have some other freewheelin’ single gals to hang out with when we go out somewhere, because really, if you are a single gal and you go out by yourself you’re really not all that freewheelin’.

    Yesterday I took the day off work because I really needed a fucking day off already. Plus, I had an appointment for a physical, and sometimes physicals are kind of traumatic, so I wanted to have the rest of the day off in case I needed to recover from all the horrific poking and prodding. Fortunately there wasn’t much poking and there was very little prodding. I think my regular doctor saves all the prodding action for my gynecologist, which I will be sure to describe for you in detail after my next pap smear. Anyway, I got a clean bill of health except for my dirty bastard of a stomach, but I already knew that was fucked up so I wasn’t really surprised. My doctor thinks that all of my stomach problems are due to a sensitivity to wheat gluten, which permeates the very soul of our culture and is extremely hard to avoid, so she is sending me to a gastroenterologist to have my gutmeats examined. I think that all my stomach problems can probably be traced to my rampant alcoholism and tendency to internalize all of my stress to the point where I think my brainmeats might implode, but I’m no doctor, so I’ll go see the gut dude. In any case, as far as my doctor is concerned, I am totally and completely normal and healthy.

    She didn’t examine my other four personalities, though, so I guess there will always be some doubt as to my true overall health status.