First it's severe wrist pain and now agonizing stomache spasms, the kind that make you double over and believe in god or a lack there of depending on what you already believe. Ahhhh, christ, won't it stop? I have no idea what it could be from? salmon patties? horseradish cheddar? cookie dough ice cream? fox news? Whatever is inducing this misery will not be forgiven anytime soon. I'll drown my bastardly rebelious stomache under a diluge of wine tonight for its mutiny. That'll show it!

I was writing along at a good click this a.m. until my belly ache interuptus occured. Now, writer's block. More like a heaviily enforced military blockade with aircraft carriers and ostensible germ warfare being waged in my bowels. Mustard gas attacks aren't uncommon either. Be warned. There is a creativity embargo placed upon me. It was going well...the story started with a river side fight ending with the destruction of one life and one testicle. Not liking the living characters, I decided to continue with the dead one. I wasn't sure what he was going to do in the after life so I have him hanging out with the disembodied testicle as a ghost. That's as far as I got. Then the gaseous expansions began. I have shitten twice already. Trouble shooting step number one was of no use. I must finish this story by midnight. I want the weekend to work on bigger projects like Operation Monkey: episode 1, Planet of the Vampires. Arrgghhh, get this dog raping pocupine out of my belly!!!!

Unable to write, I took to downloading: flash player and shockwave. Why? Somehow I ended up amidst the internet dreck of marsattacks.com (not as bad as the long abandoned detritus known as spinaltap.com) and wanted to play the cow tipping game found there. That required the shockwave. But netscape wouldn't retrieve the plugin for me, no, I was slung a big farty GPF playing out its insidious fantasies in module unknown. Well, fuck it! I found the damn shockwave myself and downloaded it without the aid of netscape's built in idiot retrieval system. Download: successful. Then, windows froze. Performed a cold boot in the worst of ways, and decided not to play the cow tipping game and write this instead before the pain became too intense to type, sit, think, keep my eyes open, and beat my heart.
"Hey, what're you up to, man?"
"Nothing much. Just sitting around and beating my heart."
"Yeah, same here. Squeezing air in and out of my lungs too I guess but not much more."
"I know what you mean. You see Oprah today?"
If it weren't for automated body functions we'd all be too busy beating and breathing for any of the shit that plagues daily life like getting the hell out of bed or looking at the clock.

First day of work for the temp. agency this Monday. I'll be making $8.50/ hr. which is precisely $8.50 more per hour than I'm making now so I guess it's not too bad a deal for me. It'll be training for technical duties I already know how to perform. Before training is even over, I expect to get a call from earthLink. I'll quit the temp. job at that precise moment. I might even go into work just to quit in some really dramatic way. I thought about buying blood capsules, shoving 'em into my mouth, and just when they're teaching us how to properly verify customer information, I'll fall to the floor, holding my stomache shouting, "Frog anus q-tip cleansing! Try that for clearing the cache!! Aggghhhh!!!" And on 'aggghhhh' blood will flow from my mouth and I will stagger from the building most likely severing any future employment relations with Select Temp. Agency, Teletech, and AT&T. Not bad for one show. Hopefully it will be an act. At the rate I'm falling apart I can't be too sure or optimistic that it won't be.

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