I’m sick.
I think Esteban tried to poison me.
Ok, that doesn’t explain why he had this same thing yesterday. Maybe he was putting the poison in my Carnation Instant Breakfast drink and accidentally licked his fingers. Maybe it was somewhat delicious poison?
Apparently, it’s the “Don’t go far from a bathroom” poison.
I went to work for four hours. Someone hurled in the hallway. Mo came and told me about it and made me laugh because after she passed the chunder, she had to go into the bathroom and gag for a bit. Then she came and told me about it. That’s the kind of relationship we have. So then I told her about my flutter tummy and how I’ve been awake since 3:30 this morning and how you know it’s really bad when you feel the water hit your ass. And then I made her fall down on the floor of my cubicle, drooling. Which made me laugh.
Puke, poop, and drool are very funny, you see.
So I was thinking about writing this weird entry, but I chatted with Eloi when I came home for a bit, and told him what I was thinking about writing, and all he said was “oh my”. And that scared me a little. So I didn’t. Because it was questionable. And I didn’t want people to point at today’s entry and say “January 4… that’s the day that Weetabix jumped the shark.” So I just wasn’t going to update. But Eloi thought that maybe people would think I’m dead.
No. Just feel like that.
Diaryland is a cruel mistress sometimes.
Anyway, I just installed this cool guestmap thingy. Because the message boards were such a hit. Chauffi and I have fabulous conversations upon it.
But right now, I’m avoiding the whole thing. Maybe I’ll write the questionable “oh my” entry tomorrow. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll be dead by then, Esteban on to find his next chubby round sex goddess.
Maybe he’ll use the guestmap? You never know.
Oh, yeah, that reminds me of another thing I talked to Eloi about (gee, this is like the All Eloi All The Time entry):
Honestly, these awards cheese me off a bit. There’s an admitted prejudice against Diaryland, I guess. Weird. I don’t put much stock into them, actually. In the words of a very excellent convo I had through email with another diarist, “who’s to say that my diary or your diary is better than some kid who hasn’t figured out a way to get read yet.” Which is completely true. Some of the best writing out there does not have a huge following (yet).
Anyway, if you have a favorite entry or diarist (on Diaryland or elsewhere) who you think should be nominated… go nominate them. Oh, but there’s a catch. You must be a diarist or blogger yourself. It’s sort of like the Academy Awards or something. Only without Billy Crystal and repeated camera pans to catch the reaction of Jack Nicholson, who just looks like a dirty old man who may break Lara Flynn Boyle one of these days. Just snap her little dandelion head off one of these days.
Now that I’d watch. Because you know Jack would pop those eyebrows and just sort of look bemused and maybe say something inane like “Now how did THAT happen?” and everyone would laugh hysterically, because, you know, he’s Jack Fricking Nicholson, and he might axe through your bathroom door one night.
Anyway, check out the guestmap thingy.
It will be cool. Way better than the message board. Honest. Really.
And I’ll just lay here and shiver, ok?
