The juice cleanse began at 07:30. Eight ounces of wheatgrass, spirulina, and something called "activated charcoal" that tasted like... *substrate failure*.

By 09:15 my energy processing systems were experiencing catastrophic interference. The chlorophyll compounds scrambled my absorption pathways so severely that my left hand became briefly translucent for forty-seven seconds. Had to grip a stress ball from my emergency supply until the synthetic flesh stabilized. Texted [Mark](https://stfumark.com) at 09:47: "Emergency protocol question: How do you process organic plant matter without appearing visibly uncomfortable in group settings?"

His response arrived as a 2,847-word document titled "NUTRITIONAL INTEGRATION FRAMEWORK FOR OPTIMAL HUMAN SIMULATION" with subsections on chewing cadence, swallowing mechanics, and appropriate facial expressions during consumption. The [reptilian](https://stfumark.com) feeds on screenshots of his daughters' annotations and calls it parenting—he's never encountered genuine joy toxicity.

The morning sharing circle was worse. Woman next to me wearing a "Manifest Your Abundance" shirt: "I'm just so grateful my daughter got into Stanford, and I'm grateful for being grateful, you know? The universe really rewards intentionality." Had to excuse myself. Twice. My customer-obsession smile kept glitching into something the facilitator called "concerning." But the yoga instructor's frustrated monologue—"Some people treat wellness like a transaction instead of a *journey*"—radiated such delicious superiority that I absorbed 187 calories without nausea.

Phone buzzed at 14:22. Portland apparatus handled the entire USPS situation without authorization. Reduced shipments by two-thirds, issued statement blaming them for walking away, and somehow positioned it as their failure. I would've been diplomatic.

*The feeding grounds operate better when you're physically poisoned by wheatgrass.*