My Tummy Hates Me

Reading through MissV's recent entries, i can feel her pain, i can tell you that fer shure. Except that mine isn't due to dairy-- it's *everything*. Everything makes my tummy hurt. Today i went the entire day without eating because i wasn't hungry. No, scratch that. I was sort of hungry, but i was afraid to put anything in my stomach for fear that it would create a thermonuclear reaction in my gut. I had a great hypochondriac moment this afternoon where i was convinced i had an ulcer and the stomach acid was going to escape and melt everything it touches. And while i'm being a hypochondriac, why has my right hip been hurting for the past two weeks? Who's been sucking out my bone marrow while i wasn't looking? I'm too young for the warranty to expire.

But i'm much better now, because i Got Stuff Done.

Thrill to the Excitement as Mary successfully orders supplies for The Unstable One! Cling to the edge of your seat as Mary plunks down yet another chunk of change into her car! (the third time in two months-- is my car having attention issues?) Tremble in Terror as Mary pays bills and puts mixtapes in the mail!

Yeah, it was a pretty good day. And i picked up a copy of "American Gods" because i couldn't resist. I just wish i had the attention span to sit down and read it right now. all i can seem to do is read short excerpts from "Angry Women in Rock" (which left me with a burning desire to find music by Tribe 8) and "Mike Nelson's Movie Megacheese".

Reading Megacheese, i'm reminded of why i find all the longwinded rants that come to the stunning conclusion that yes, badfic *is* bad (wow, *that's* insightful), are so tiresome:

1. if you're going to eviscerate, go after the big guns who get paid millions to write crap, not the ones who don't get paid one red cent

2. if you're going to be scathing in public and name names, return the courtesy and sign your bile spewage with your own name or a recognizable alias. otherwise wash the yellow streak off your back and run along back to your parent's basement. (this is not a cut against any of you out there who have lived in basements at one time or another. i feel your pain, believe me.)

and last but definitely not least:

3. if you're going to ignore 1 and 2, do me a favor and be funny, for god's *sake*. that thing about how we are funniest when we are poking at what we love is absolutely true. Which doesn't explain my MST of that Sentinel episode *at all*, so just nevermind.

Anyway, enough of that. i'm boring myself with all this metafan talk.

Weird, just a couple of months ago i putting away a book a week, even in the midst of class and ESOL nuttiness. I'll get back into the swing of things eventually, i'm sure, it's just a bit disconcerting to realize how much the last few months have taken it out of me. I don't seem to have the energy to do much of anything but stare at the ceiling. I understand people go through peaks and troughs-- it's not just normal, it's necessary-- but it's still frustrating sometimes to be forced to slow down. Doing LJ entries is one of my few connections to writing, which helps. It's not particularly creative or inventive or reaching, but it keeps me in practice. One of these days when i get enough brainpower i'll tackle slightly bigger stuff.

i did decide that if i did get hungry enough and that my stomach could take the beating i was going to stuff myself with Chinese buffet. and that i did-- oh my, it was an ode to Gluttony. When i go to buffets, i make them count.

The first plate and nummy wonton soup went down lickety-split and went up and reloaded. Is there a name for the embarrassment you get when you go back to the buffet more times than is good for you? There has to be a sniglet for it somewhere.
Not that the embarrassment stopped me, i'm just curious.

It felt great to take as much time as you want just pigging out by yourself and reading. i remember the time tGN and our friends would go out for breakfast and we'd just hang out for ages.

Once we took a friend of a friend, a hypertensive New Yorker who was the proverbial fish out of water, and he went nuts. He couldn't understand why us Southerners would just *sit around* and *enjoy yourselves* as our tummies settled. He finally lost it and exclaimed "THIS is why you guys lost the damn war!"

Hey, whatever it took for us to lose. It cracked us up big time, which wasn't the effect he was going for. Me, i'd be happy as a clam if all restaurants came equipped with big wraparound porches where you could lay in big swings with big fluffy pillows and sip ice tea with mint leaves out of bendy straws while you recovered.

While eating this hideous amount of food and reading fun stuff, the piped in music kept distracting me. I have no attention span, but the running commentary i kept in my head entertained me for a while.

My favorite, and i'm sure you guys have heard this one. You can't escape it. it's the one with the lyrics that go "I'm everything i am because you love me".

Whoa. So basically she doesn't exist without this person's love? This guy was there from the beginning of time, building her and creating her, she just didn't know it yet? I'm sorry, but the only people responsible for *my* existence are my mom, my dad, and the milkman. ba-dum-bum.

Why must every love song be so codependent? I love Vali very much, and life is definitely much better with her in my world. But why can't there be lyrics that say "you know, i had most of my personal shit together before i met you, so it's wonderful to be able to concentrate on loving you instead of having to leapfrog over age-old baggage and fucked up notions of 'true love'"?

I think i just answered my own question. Bernie Taupin, help!

So far, so good, my stomach isn't rebelling as much as it was this morning, and considering how much torture i put it through i guess i'll be ok.