My nose is all stuffy.
My eyes are all puffy.
The snot, it is seeping.
The eyes, they are weeping.
The nose is a blowin'
This bitch is a woe'in,
Dammit, where've all my tissues been goin'?
Oh yeah, in addition, I think my issues are showin'!
Fuck. Poetry is FAR too confining for the mood I'm in right now. I'm PISSED. And I have a cold. I am one pissy, snotty, weepy, cold-havin' mother fucker. And also, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself on top of that. Great combo, eh? Anyway...
In a futile attempt to make myself giggle, I'd like to share some photos with you.
I call this one Six Cats Shitting on a Couch...
It's sort of the beginning of a series. Or, would two photos be a series? Maybe a sery? Heh. Whatever. I'm not really sure what to call the subsequent photo, but I'm leaning towards Don't Believe Me? Check the Shit Out!
Okay, it made ME giggle, and that's what's important here, right?
Hey! Wanna buy a duck?
Does it quack?
Of course it quacks! It's a fucking duck!
Hee. Life always feels a little more liveable when you can quote a drinking game. My luck, though, that'll be a game that was only ever played in my dorm room, so none of you will have any idea what I'm talking about.
Ginamonster sent me a little gift the other day from her online shop and now I kind of want to hump her leg. Allow me to introduce you to the newest Soap Stars here at General Mental Ward...
I'm looking for NAMES! I'm all about naming things, and rubber duckies are no exception. So, offer up some names if you're so inclined. The only one I've come up with so far is 'Hell in a Handbasket' for, well, obvious reasons. But, 'Hell in a Handbasket' is far too long a name, AND the basket (c/o Bonanza's Christmas gifty soap, by the way) is actually more of a FINGERbasket than a HANDbasket.
There'll be a soap opera happenin' here soon with the duckies. It will involve a honeymoon rafting cruise and an affair of some sort; I haven't quite meshed out the details. But I'm working on it.
One more thing before I go. Did you know that if you have a cold, and you happen to know and be around pregnant people, you should stay away from them? I know this. Actually, common courtesy compels me to keep my distance from EVERYONE when I have a cold. But, I've been reminded a few times to stay away from this or that pregnant lady because it's EXPECIALLY important, what with the little babies in their bellies and all.
I'd appreciate the advice if I maybe had a hobby of licking people on the mouth and spewing snot on their faces unless otherwise advised. But REALLY? The warning is unnecessary because I'm WELL FUCKING AWARE that me and my germs need to stick to ourselves. Oddly enough, the pregnant people aren't reminding me of this. Other people are. And I KNOW they mean well and I should take it as such but, HELLO! I know! I didn't just crawl out of hole yesterday, okay? Thanks.
Anyway, all of the talk about pregnant ladies and about how I should stay away from them got me thinking that I could've been 8 or 5 months pregnant today...But, uh, I'm not. As if that weren't bad enough, now I'm like a fucking leper who has to stay away from the blessedly pregnant people. It kind of sucks, you guys.
Miss I's kiddo is due by C-section on Friday, and I'm SO scared that my cold will prevent me from going. That little girl is going to be practically my niece. And I might not even be able to visit her.
The asshole in my brain is saying, "NANA-NANA-BOO-BOO! Not even can you NOT have your own babies, but the dieties will see to it that you can't even be around other people's!" HAHA!
Gah DAMMIT! I'm crying again.
So. Not. In. A. Good. Place.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
My nose is all stuffy.