� Raymond Carver, in "His Bathrobe Pockets Stuffed With Notes"

"Beefrond," however, is mine for sure. Because go do a Google search on that word and tell me what you come up with. The meme is me. Though strictly speaking I can only claim to be the Johnny Appleseed of "beefrond," because I swear I remember back in the day � gather �round, children � that Sassy magazine used to use this term. Though no one else I�ve ever consulted about that, several of whom are far better versed than I in the Sassy arcana, recalls this word or its companion, "gullfrond." How is it possible that these entertaining nonce words have faded almost without a trace? It seems tragic. So Edith is my pal and my sister in arms for bringing at least one of them back into the parlance, and if you like them I hope you will use them too. Speaking of Google, best searches of the last day or so are asexual loser by default and why is my doctor an uneducated asshole.

While I was not looking Word changed "arcana" to "arcane." Word can bite me.

Speaking of doctors who may or may not be uneducated assholes, I found out yesterday that Dr. Blahblah is in serious danger of losing his medical license in another state in which he sometimes practices, because he has not submitted documentation of enough Continuing Medical Education credits to the licensing board for the last four years. Do you know about CMEs? It is the doctor version of CLEs that lawyers have to take � the idea is that you have to keep your knowledge fresh, engage in collegial activity, expose yourself to new research, etc., at various events and conferences throughout the year, but it is possible to earn these credits in a wholeheartedly bogus manner, like taking a four-day ski vacation to Vail during breakfasts at which an infomercial for some new drug plays in the background and then at some point there�s a multiple-choice quiz on side effects. Or you can register for one of the many conferences that take place in the Caribbean and then just go snorkeling and not show up for any of the panels or presentations, since licensing boards count your registration form as proof of attendance. It is all tax deductible, of course. So you�d think that staying up to date with the CMEs would be a piece of delicious cake, but you�d be wrong, because Dr. Blahblah is so absent minded and oblivious � and this is in no way charming � that he doesn�t hold onto the registration forms about half the time he goes on one of these education junkets, and the sponsoring organizations often don�t keep records going back a few years, so it�s a mess. This licensing issue was one of the first things I had to deal with upon my installation here and I thought it was all resolved, I thought that the sponsor had found some kind of makeshift documentation and faxed it to the board, and in any case the frantic long-distance calls had ceased, but yesterday the licensing clerk phoned and said that she was "just cleaning off her desk" � note that the matter has been in limbo since November: wouldn�t it be grand to be a bureaucrat? � and realized that this particular house was still very much on fire. Argh. The sponsor will not call the licensing board. The licensing board will not call the sponsor. The person here at the hosp who manages all the doctors� CME records has only the same information that is in my files, and, additionally, the fact that he�s been in arrears for four years and she hasn�t raised an alarm suggests to me that she�s probably incompetent. Dr. Blahblah is unbelievably blah-blas� considering that his medical license may be at stake, and he will not call anyone, in November his attitude towards the situation was to tell me to fix it. Well, I don�t think I can fix it. I do not have and cannot obtain documentation, and that�s all there is to it. I�m going to make that round of calls again this afternoon, and if I get the same old can�t-help-you runaround, I am going to write a memo that contains bullet points and phone numbers and cc it to Dr. Blahblah, the Wife of Bath, and the CME wrangler, and I am going to say, Look, this is not my problem and I cannot solve it.

I�ll be honest, when I got that call yesterday afternoon I gave serious thought to letting the matter ride and the house burn down and the whole nine yards, to ignoring the problem of Dr. Blahblah�s medical licensure until the license went away, because � you heard it here first, now this is official too � I�m out of here in a few months so what do I care. It would be my gesture of appreciation for the many many things that Dr. Blahblah has done for me, something to remember me by. But no, I�m not naturally that vindictive so being that way takes work, and I�m not willing to commit to the program. I did feel a twinge of deep and righteous satisfaction this morning, though, when he stopped by my desk and mentioned a CME conference of his own that�s going forward six months or so down the line that he thinks I�m going to be organizing. He talked and I nodded and then he left. I did not take notes for the benefit of my eventual replacement � OK, maybe I�m vindictive enough for that. And yes after consulting with my circle of advisors, I�m definitely on for the plan I mentioned in my last entry where my absolute last day as the Gastro tyro will be just before I leave on vacation. Yesterday as if on cue the temp pimp called to offer her congratulations on my finally being on someone else�s clock, and I thanked her for her help and cannily told her If they ever bounce me out of here I�ll be calling you again. She laughed, because ho ho what could be more ridiculous than any employer wanting to bounce the all-time champ of the Wonderlic test, of course I will be here as long as I want, they love me and can�t believe their luck. Insert evil cackle right here, baby. Who I haven�t told about this yet is Steve, but that�s only because he�s been deep in the Matrix working on his last homework assignment and it�s not like I thought he�d be angry or anything or tell me I was making a mistake, I just didn�t want to hijack his focus � or be seen as attempting to do so � and put it on me instead. I�ll brief him tonight. I figure that the worst possible case scenario is that after such an announcement, especially as my future co-mortgagee he will feel enfranchised to ride herd on me on the Apply For This Job tip, and my feelings on that are (a) well, he *should* feel enfranchised and (b) actually I suspect some nagging would be good for me. So no worries. And in fact, the main reason I didn�t get around to writing an entry yesterday is that the application for the job Mrs. Roboto sent turned out to be a horrific beast, and after I ended up ordering a second pitcher with Vanessa on Monday night I wasn�t in much of a state to work on the thing so I had to do almost all of it on Tuesday morning, including tracking down a shadowy character of a reference I haven�t talked to ages. I came in Tuesday buzzing in on adrenaline and purpose and raw determination to get the thing off, but concentrating at that level so drained me that by early afternoon when my work was done, so was I. And let us say this: The job is applied for and the job is within my reach. If I were them I�d want me bad, at least for an interview, and if they don�t I won�t cry because just having realized how ideally suited I am for something that�s so much bigger and badder than Gastro is something in itself. Briefly note the skills and abilities that you feel make you a strong candidate for this job. And I sure as hell did.

And then after my application e-mail � with its seven attachments and sixteen pages to follow via fax � was finally on its way late yesterday afternoon, Mrs. R., who had been shepherding it and me, sent mail, and this is what it said:

I don't know if you've ever applied for a government job before and you probably know all this but it's always good to have a time frame so you don't freak out. As you already experienced - Step 1: many, many forms must be filled out. Step 2: - 1 to 2 weeks you get a postcard saying - "hey, we got your stuff" Step 3: 3 to 4 weeks you get a call for an interview Step 4: 5 to 6 weeks second interview. Step 5: 7- 8 weeks final decision is made and applicants are notified. So I know it's frustrating but hang in there and practice patience.

Last night I stayed home and made spanakopita and cleaned the kitchen and watched what had to be David Letterman�s unfunniest monologue ever, in which there was a joke about the Miss Universe pageant and how for the talent competition Miss Iraq looted a grocery store. I�m not going to say much about Joe�s birthday party except to report that many of my TankedStock.com cohort are now keeping tabs on who among them just spent how much on brand-new cars and upscale couples-resort vacations and whose houses have the most square footage, and isn�t that very nice for them. This morning I realized it was Wednesday, Number Two day, and I didn�t know whether I was supposed to be there or not, Number Two hadn�t even crossed my mind since last week when I had to call and cancel. She called back and said she�s expecting me next week, not this one. I might try to leave early so I can clean the kitchen and the living room for Book Club, pick up some booze ditto, and maybe even start the book. Oh, speaking of Todd, on Monday at Linda�s we had an Encounter. It was funny how it happened, Vanessa and I walked in and ordered at the bar and we were chatting and it occurred to me that Linda�s had become one of the focal points of my new social life and that I�d been moving through it unimpeded, and I said, liking the idea, You know, I think I may have gotten this place in the divorce. Vanessa looked around as if sizing up my demesne. "No you didn�t," she said. He was there for a while with who you think he was there with and then we didn�t notice him leave.

And, late-breaking news, my sister has come around on the Fuck Gastro plan. But now I must to get back to the colon business. Dear diary, thank you for your time.

(Later) Steve Wyche of the Wash Post: Parker�s poise will be key vs. Kidd." Hugo Lindgren of Slate: "The most important player in the NBA Finals. (It's not Kidd or Duncan.)" [It is my boyfriend Kenyon Martin.] Hu-go! Hu-go! Here is the sum total of what Slate tells us about Hugo, here's why he has the authority to write an article like this and the reason we should believe what he says in it: "Hugo Lindgren is a New York City sports fan." Ooh, next stop Crushville.