My Rotten Entrails

My intestinal tract and I do not get along. Recently, I had those woes. In fact, I have had woes since 30 smacked me in the tummy and announced, "I now pronounce thy metabolism transformed!" Now I don't eat spicy food (often) and I never drink booze. If I do, the results are too ghastly to describe except for friends who actually pretend to be concerned over such things.

But I can state for a fact that my current wretchedness has little to do with age and more to do with marauding gangs of amoebas and microbes picked up, I suspect, from a batch of delicious shrimp I had for supper yesterday. Damn those microscopic barbarian mini-hordes!

This is why I'm supposed to keep kosher? I gleefully order pizza with both meat and dairy on it. I slyly sneak bacon off the plates of Christian friends whilst brunching with them when I think no one is looking. And I'm brought down by the rotten innards of a mound of stripy, over-sized, aquatic termites? A shrimpy dietary law most Jews don't even pay attention to (although the bacon one is still pretty strong)? I protest!

On the upside, my boss steadfastly refused when I asked him to e-mail me a few files so I could work at home. It seems that an advantage of working for an HIV/AIDS organisation is that they take health concerns very seriously, even when you’re HIV-. It makes up for the lousy pay. Plus, now I look good without having to work on Monday. Unfortunately, I'll have to make it up in overtime ... I don't feel very well ...