I paid the piper today when I forced something that looked strangely like a solid block of choc ice cream from my fiery bowels. I'm popping some Donnatal next time, cos the Imodium I took didn't quite do it for me.
Lousy mysterious alcho-shots, glass of wine and seared mahi tuna yesterday... I like to play pretend that I'm a powerful executive having a lavish, devil-may-care alcholunch when I'm in an interview suit, surrounded by the Big City and various other over-educated barflies with straight teeth moaning about Nietzsche. Had a nice high off of the interview and decided to celebrate/play pretend/do some damage at the same time.   
Ah, blending with the common man. I can do it for, well, brief bursts, but today the day after, WOOF. I paid and paid and paid.
But I have to say, it's nice to pretend I'm not an IBS freak of nature every once and again while in nice public society, where my actual life would make everyone's collective heads whirl around and burst into flames.
I am considering installing a permanent epidural anesthesia line through my spinal cord. Urge to push? Sorry, don't know what that is...Please pass the margarhita mix...?
~nelly~
(P.S. No call from the job yet. I talked to my references, who are on high alert in case they get, well, referenced. )
THANKS to all who were thinking of me.  Body parts, all around. Basement prices guaranteed. -N.
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It went really well!
