Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Monday, November 29, 2010

At Least I've Been Forgiven

Piddy is purring on the floor, nomming turkey & purring.

I am FUCKING exhausted & would rather be exhausted from fucking. 7k words managed for NaNoWriMo with 27 hours left. Yay, let's hear it for being totally manic!  And, after convos with 4 members of my cabal who all have told me that I have been EXCEEDINGLY manic over the past 6 months, I have to man up & go back to the doctor because either my thyroid is utterly fucked, or the removal of the bipolar diagnosis was premature.

*sigh* Merde.

Of course, it could be stress. And lack of sleep. And stress. And lack of sex.

Or i could actually be bipolar.

Waiter, this is NOT the life I ordered.

We will not discuss the parental sitch. Or that Potential Paramour has suddenly decided that we MUST meet. Amazing... I get bored, he gets interested. *slams head on the desk* Will someone explain this to me? Because it makes no sense.

I need a joint, a drink, a hot & hung babe with a perpetual erection, & a vacation.

In lieu of that, I am getting some shut eye.

G'night, Gracie.

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