chibirhm: (Barking up the wrong lesbian.)
(JULIA walks into kitchen rubbing stomach and pouting, brow furrowed.)
Dad: Hey kiddo, what's wrong?
Julia: My uterus hurts.
Dad: I'm sorry.
Julia: I just don't see the point. Why can't I just yank it out and agree to adopt children?
Dad: (Obviously thinking he's clever) Yes, but then what would you fill that hole with?
Julia: ...Candy.

Get on that, universe.

Ugh. Seriously, though, bad timing to get my period, universe, I have writing I need to do. Couldn't you have moved it up a week? All of last week my to-do list consisted of endless brainless tasks that could easily have been done while curled in the fetal position. I can't write about the shooting in Arizona or work on my short story (I thought up something that might actually be publishable, glory hallelujah holy crap!) or create a back-and-forth argument column with co-worker on why Kono is a total feminist and not just Obligatory Hot Girl Cop. (She says otherwise. Psh! Bitches, do not try to school me on feminism. I had Feminist Trading Cards when I was little. No joke! It was like a deck of cards my mom got me that was called "fearless historical females" or something that had a picture on one side and a mini-biography on the other. I just refer to them, however, as Feminist Trading Cards. Also, they would have been much more interesting if they had Mary Wollenscroft's batting average.)

Fun new discovery of the weekend, though - did you know if, instead of slathering your toast in butter, you spread about two spoonfuls of avocado on your toast, it tastes just as buttery and delicious? I thought it was only mildly better for you than butter, but when I asked my mom (who is so neurotic about health food you have no idea) she told me that was great because "it's the good kind of fat". I like that argument. I plan on using it the next time my mom is like "You're eating too many cookies!" Instead I will be like "But it's the good kind of fat, Mom!" and she'll be like "How do you know?" and I'll be like "Because it tastes delicious."

I love how this entry is full of so much irrefutable logic.
chibirhm: (This old heart is covered in glue.)
My First-World Reasons I am Miserable:

Uno! Impeding period. Always makes me super depressed/anxious. This month, I got to have an utterly unexplained panic attack over nothing on Sunday morning that lasted for three hours. That was three hours of uncontrollable shaking, crying, nausea, and mind-numbing terror for no reason. THREE. HOURS. Do you have any idea how INSANELY uncomfortable that is and how shaken that leaves you? IT FEELS TERRIBLE. It's like your soul vomiting. Only more painful.

Dos! EVERYONE, STOP DYING. I could emotionally handle the gay teen suicides (sort of). But I cannot handle them and then Tim Gunn making an It Gets Better video where he talks about how he tried to kill himself (TIM GUNN, MY HEART IS DELICATE AND FRAGILE AND YOU ARE MY FAVORITE), and then JGL's brother died, which I know shouldn't bother me but really, really does on two levels. The first being that whenever he'd make these tweets or tumblr posts about his brother it reminded me so strongly about how I feel about my older sister, and then my crazy over-empathy parts get involved and I start thinking about what would happen if one of my siblings died, and he was thirty-six and totally healthy! NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DIE AT THIRTY-SIX UNLESS THEY HAVE AN EXTREMELY GOOD REASON, LIKE BEING IN AN AVALANCHE, OKAY. THAT'S ONE OF MY RULES OF LIFE THAT KEEPS ME FROM TURNING INTO A PARANOID NEUROTIC MESS. (Also I feel really sad for JGL an his family and everyone, except I don't really know them or anything about the situation so it's kind of a secondary "oh, that's such a shame".)

Also, the couple whose cats I was going to watch while they went to Turkey cancelled their Turkey trip because it looks like his brother might bite it. Right before his daughter's wedding. And his brother is my parents' age. Seriously, everyone, less with the death! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS.

Tres! Second week in a row of gray and rain. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Quatro! I went to Target to try to replace my much beloved flats and they had these great shoes almost exactly like my old ones, but the 6.5s were too small and the 7s were too big. I've tried everywhere else - the local shoe store, DSW, Zappos... AND I HATE SHOPPING, YOU GUYS. I really, really fucking need new shoes. Why can't I just find new freaking shoes? And don't even get me started on my sneaker woes. All of my shoes are legit falling apart at the seams. Like that's not a turn of phrase, they are falling apart at the seams.

On top of no luck with shoes at Target, I also had no luck with finding bags (also falling apart), any clothes (red zone situation - all my clothing fits into one dark and one light wash easily, and the light wash isn't even full, and both of those are fifty percent pajamas), or the laundry detergent my mother asked me to pick up. Though I did manage to get myself eyeshadow because my old eyeshadow has been disintegrating everywhere. Woo...hoo. Clearly, a priority.

This trip to Target took up the part of the day where I was supposed to take the dog for a walk, too, and by time I got home I was overtired, cramping, cranky, freezing cold, and so instead I passed out on my couch for two hours. And then I felt guilty the rest of the night for going out when clearly I should have been staying home taking care of my baby. (For the record, I should not have, I just feel an irrational sense of guilt anyway, and I'm hormonal/Jewish, so it was semi-crippling. My dog forgave me within thirty seconds of scratching under her chin.)

Cinqo! This week's episode of Glee was so depressing I can't even talk about it without legit feeling queasy. Usually, Glee is my special happy fun time full of campy music and devoid of logic or emotion. Robin's boyfriend comes over, Ella's over, Robin's home, we all curl up on the couch and coo at Finn and Artie because they are too precious to exist and where were those boys in high school when we were there? It's good times. TONIGHT WAS NOT GOOD TIMES, GLEE. IT WAS TAKE MY TERRIFYING WORST FEARS ABOUT PARENTS DROPPING NEARLY-DEAD AND MANIPULATING MY EMOTIONS FOR AN HOUR. AN HOUR! EVEN FINN BEING ADORABLE ABOUT FINDING JESUS ON HIS GRILLED CHEESE DIDN'T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.

THAT MEANS I FELT PRETTY DAMN SHITTY ABOUT THE WHOLE THING, FYI.

Sies! Ever since my Fun Marathon of Terror, my stomach has been misbehaving terribly. The latest thing it has decided I cannot eat without insane nausea/indigestion? Apples. And sister and her boyfriend just went apple picking! My mother just made applesauce and apple tart! Apples are everywhere! It's fucking October in fucking New England! And I love apples!

Stomach, you and I are not on good terms right now.


YOUR JOB: Do not hug me! Do not pet my hair! Give me fun stuff! Happy stuff! Rec me fics of adorable boys in love! Youtube videos! Find adorable fuzzy things from CuteOverload backlogs! Write me comment fics!

Also if one or two of you could come over and do my laundry/the rest of my reading for class tomorrow/make it so I don't have to go to class tomorrow, I'd really like that.
chibirhm: (Somewhere beyond the sea.)


So, if any of you guys have been living under a hole, I'm leaving you for a week to go on vacation. Unacceptable, I know. I never go on vacation. This is my only vacation all year. It's almost blasphemous, for me to, like, have to pack to go somewhere. But I am leaving you for a week, and I have the numbers so I promise to call and phone post at least once. The monthly music round-up will be, of course, delayed a couple of days, but I will return bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to fulfill my lot in life as a musical bucaneer. Until then, behave yourselves, my children. I will read about your various sundry escapades when I return.


Edit: So I have made a very bad decision. I watched What Not to Wear: Baby on Board while on my period and extremely hormonal. And now, with every fiber in my being, I DESPERATELY want to be pregnant. Without having sex, because I'm so not ready for that. But those women looked so beautiful and their bellies were so pretty and they had the mommy glow. Sigh. I also made the mistake of telling this to my mom, who I freaked out completely with how insistant I was with my hormonalness. It's just, sometimes when I have my period I hold my belly at night and it feels lonely.

Tonight is probably one of those nights.

Edit 2: Okay, I know I'm supposed to be asleep, but this was just too amazing to not save for posterity. So I'm sitting downstairs settling down for bed (I like to sleep on the couch during the summer so I can stay up and not disturb people with my odd hours), and Evan comes down to get a Claratin. Now both he and my sister have pretty bad sniffly allergies to things and always have, and I've never been allergic to anything in my entire life. Anyways, Evan gives me a sort of odd look and goes "Did you take your Claritin?"

And I'm sitting here listening to Luther and I pause and look up at him and go "Um, why would I do that? I'm not allergic to anything." And he cocks his head to the side and goes "...really?"

I would like to remind you that this is Evan. Who I, you know, shared the womb with. Just to clear that one up.
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