Today Is An Amphetamine For My Soul, Except For The Weird Belly Part

Yesterday was a bit of a downer, but today is more of an upper, an amphetamine for the soul if you will. Do you remember how I once applied for a new position in this large institution that I work for, and do you remember how the person who I was going to replace reversed her decision to leave, and then I had to stay in my old position, and I was all feeling let down and depressed about it? Yes? Well, I got over it, because that’s the way things are, I can’t change it, and maybe there is a good reason that things didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to. The Fiery One suggested that perhaps I would have found myself trapped underneath a photocopier that would have crushed my ribcage and left me helpless for hours, because I would be unable to cry out for help, and living on permanent disability wouldn’t seem so rosy if I couldn’t breath without an iron lung. (This entry is all about run-on sentences, so don’t forget to breathe in between phrases).

Yeah, so, as I was saying. I got over the disappointment and turned my eye once again to the job postings section of our website, and guess what? (This entry is also all about the questions. If this demands too much of you, deal with it). A one-year term position has opened up in the same department that temporarily hired me before. Despite what happened the last time they hired me, I applied for the position, because hell, if they hired me once, they would be assholes not to hire me again. (My spellchecker was sadly missing all my favourite expletives, and I think “assholes” was the last major one that needed to be added. Oh, the memories. sniff sniff). (And this entry is also all about the bracketed side-chatter. If you’re annoying and you know it, clap your hands… Clap! Clap!) I’m banking on the feeling that they’re not assholes.

Yesterday, a woman from human resources called me and asked me for an interview at 3:00 pm today, which I of course agreed to. When I arrived home from work in the evening, there was a message from earlier in the day from one of the head honchos over at the new department I’ve applied to that sort of went like this: “We were so disappointed we couldn’t keep you last time, and we’re so glad that you have applied for this position, even though it is only a year term, and the interview may not even be necessary, because you rock, and we really love you…” All hyperbole aside, it was awfully nice to be called personally and told that I was wanted for the position before the interview even took place. Due to what happened the last time, though, I am not going to get all glowy about having a new job until I am actually sitting at my new desk and casing the joint for available exits and their choice of coffee brand.

Today, I am wearing my job interview clothes and feeling really jumpy and wishing that the interview had come and gone so I could just go home already and eat macaroni and cheese with a liberal amount greek seasoning sprinkled on it and watch television. What the hell are we going to talk about in this interview? I was told that it could take an hour, which sounds preposterous to me, because I just had an hour-long interview with them less than a month ago. Maybe we can trade soup recipes and talk about leg hair removal.

I feel like a psychological spaz with all the nervous electricity coursing through my grey matter. I just had lunch, and spent half of it flitting around the staff lunch room moving my egg and potato (everything I ate for lunch today was boiled) from the counter to the table to the microwave to the table to the counter and back again and talking a mile a minute. If time doesn’t speed up and that interview doesn’t happen soon, I am going to… I don’t know… keep moving stuff back and forth like someone caught in a time loop.


I am starting to think that there is something seriously weird going on with my abdomen. I can’t quite figure out if it’s my intestines, my uterus, or what. I have this tickley kind of energy that feels like it fills my whole uterus, which in turn feels as though it is expanding like a balloon. I have been having problems with constipation where I won’t go for days and then have a day where almost nothing happens, but at least it’s something. I had a spell of four days during which my whole torso seemed to be filling up with gas, and I felt terribly uncomfortable and had to keep belching and farting to gain some relief from the horrible pressure. Then there has been the occasional heartburn, which is not a normal thing for me.

I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t think it’s possible. I can’t be pregnant. I just finished my period. I’m trying to remedy whatever it is that’s wrong with me by walking for forty-five minutes every day after work and drinking lots of water, which seems to have helped somewhat, but my belly still insists on sticking out in this somebody’s-mother kind of way. In fact, the waistband of my skirt is digging into me in a worrisome way. I am either literally full of shit, or I am having the Devil’s child. I’m kind of hoping that it’s the Devil’s child thing, because that probably has less of a chance of reoccurrence than the full of shit thing.


I just came across a great name: Abdalbast. I keep saying it in my head over and over again, making the a’s sound like “ah”. Hahlo, mah nahm ahs Ahbdahlbahst. Abdalbast, Abdalbast, Abdalbast. Try it. It feels good all over.


Kilowatt House has been restored. Does anyone want to buy me a present?

An erotic letter by author James Joyce to "his wild eyed whore" has sold for a record-breaking £240,800 at auction.

The International Court of Justice has ruled against Israel’s barrier in the West Bank.

The U.S. Senate has reported that the Iraq war is based on faulty intelligence.

The court has been asked to declare the common-law definition of marriage and the prescribed marriage formula as unconstitutional in the fight for gay marriage in South Africa.

2003 was the year that saw the greatest number of people contract HIV/AIDS since the epidemic began. 2003 also saw more people die of AIDS than any previous year.

I just don’t get the running of the bulls thing.

The U.S. Congress is moving ahead on proposals to ban same-sex marriage even though the leaders in both houses know they don’t have the votes to pass them.

Endangered brown pelicans have been mistaking asphalt for lakes with disastrous results. (Ha ha! I accidentally typed “resluts”. If a slut finds herself getting old, can she be reslutted? Is it a regular medical doctor that does that for you, or do you have to pay $10,000 for it in Mexico?)