I don't want sympathy, I just want to call people wankers and take valium in the bath and eat crisps
This is going under a cut because it is a grumpy inarticulate mess primarily derived from being too fucking hot all day at work and forgetting to take decongestants.
1. It's inadvisible and churlish to say this kind of thing when a) I have people on my friendslist who have fibromyalgia and CFS and hypermobility and other horrible painful things that never go away and b) I am out, if not particularly proud*, as a screamin' masochist, but GODDAMNIT, BODY, ENOUGH PAIN. In addition to the traditional "I don't want to live please put morphine in bits of me" areas that are my spine (broken) and knees (don't bend in the right direction: like to lock either extended or folded but dislike moving between the two: absolutely happy to move sideways when I am not expecting it with a cracking noise and a bold of disgusting pain) my sinuses have, for the last god knows how many months, been a nonstop carnival of headache and misery. Unlike the other two I can't just pretend it isn't happening or that I am in a war zone and will be shot if I stop walking, because the stupid painful shit is happening inside my face and makes it impossible to concentrate on anything besides being in pain and therefore very, very angry. Ditto my ear, although that is now settling for arbitrary bouts of pain at weird intervals rather than continual agony. Also gaining 20dB and losing it, on and off, in that ear. No, that's fine, I'd already worked out that my career plan was shot to fuck by the total inability to socialise, you didn't have to make me go deaf as well.
2. I am not eating enough. Hahahahah the fat girl thinks she's starving ahahahaah. But I'm not. Part of the reason I'm not eating enough solid food is because I've decided that cider is better for me than sandwiches GO EMPTY CALORIES GO and part of the reason is my magical new idea of "stopping eating when I feel full" rather than "eating until I physically can't any more" which is supposed to be part of my "stop being as insane as you have been for most of your life" campaign. The problem with this otherwise laudable project is that it turns out I get full REALLY QUICKLY (I suppose because of all the FAT IN THE WAY, right, guys? Right?) and then don't eat enough and then wake up furiously hungry but can only manage half a sandwich and then am hungry again by 10am and what I'm trying to say is I DISLIKE BEING A PRIMATE.
3. Ran out of work today. This was a pain primarily because Jess had to go to bed at some point and I couldn't just keep innundating her with grotesque vomitings from my Id, and then I had to go on the internet to amuse myself because the print in my book is too small for me to read when my FACE IS EXPLODING FROM MY SINUSES and then it turned out that everyone on the entire internet is still a) a twat, b) wrong about everything and c) stupid. My opinions are in no small way supported and indeed formed by the weather continuing to be bizarre and my office continuing to not have air conditioning of any kind or a fan on my desk or a lax enough dress code to allow me to go in naked and carrying a block of ice.
4. Someone on Tumblr attempted to correct me on my decision to tell them to shove their stupid ideas up their cunt, and may possibly have received further invective as a result. I'd apologise, but I'm not sorry, it's still too hot, my face hurts, and you're an annoying dick. I don't understand the need for people to slather their personal blogs in massive banners about how they've achieved a basic standard of personhood, expressed in vomitworthy colours and the sentiment "this blog is intersex positive", as if every other blog on tumblr which doesn't bother to expect pats on the fucking back for being PROGRESSIVE (or "behaving like a member of the human race instead of a snivelling turdplate") is automatically fundamentally opposed to intersex folks;asexuality;the forty other things faceache was keen that everyone know he supported. Maybe I should just get a massive "IDGAF ABOUT ANYTHING YOU IDENTIFY AS PROVIDING YOU AREN'T A MORON AND DON'T EXPECT ME TO LISTEN TO YOU WHEN MY FACE IS EXPLODING" banner. Or a t-shirt reading "I'm not a rapist and I don't fiddle kids" and wait for the accolades to roll in.
5. Pleasant things from today: Jess, in general. Discovering that I'd accidentally written 4,000 words of total self-indulgence. Listening to old ISIHAC and trying very hard not to scream with laughter, especially when it turned out that one of the entrants to the Drunkard's Ball back in about 1979 was "Duncan Disorderly", ie. my erstwhile boyfriend's skate name. Reading about and understanding more of Mill's neuro notes, even if the likelihood of me retaining any of the information is quite small. The continued deliciousness of Bulmers No. 17. Taking my fucking bra off. Kassie and Lucy discussing how to translate "Quintus is being bummed by a five-headed dragon" in relation to Kassie potentionally teaching me Latin. The fact that my dinner has just arrived.
6. It is occasionally gratifying to discover that other people have similar ideas of submission and dominance to you, unlike the forty million BDSM bloggers; it is less gratifying when those other people are Chris Corner. And no one but Bitchy Jones, who stopped blogging some time ago, will say "dude it's cool to have fantasies that would end in hospitalisation, arrest, or public censure in the real world" instead of wanking on forever and ever about what it all means and the importance of SSC. Fuck SSC. I'm perfectly well aware of the paradox: things I want will only ever come from the kind of person who shouldn't be allowed near anyone ever, and the kind of person who can be trusted to do hitty sex won't do the things I want. QED. Also I'm fat and ugly and have hairy nipples and my voice is really grating and I'm shit at sex etc.
7. Why did we let the idiots have perfectly good words? Now they've got all spoiled by people.
1. It's inadvisible and churlish to say this kind of thing when a) I have people on my friendslist who have fibromyalgia and CFS and hypermobility and other horrible painful things that never go away and b) I am out, if not particularly proud*, as a screamin' masochist, but GODDAMNIT, BODY, ENOUGH PAIN. In addition to the traditional "I don't want to live please put morphine in bits of me" areas that are my spine (broken) and knees (don't bend in the right direction: like to lock either extended or folded but dislike moving between the two: absolutely happy to move sideways when I am not expecting it with a cracking noise and a bold of disgusting pain) my sinuses have, for the last god knows how many months, been a nonstop carnival of headache and misery. Unlike the other two I can't just pretend it isn't happening or that I am in a war zone and will be shot if I stop walking, because the stupid painful shit is happening inside my face and makes it impossible to concentrate on anything besides being in pain and therefore very, very angry. Ditto my ear, although that is now settling for arbitrary bouts of pain at weird intervals rather than continual agony. Also gaining 20dB and losing it, on and off, in that ear. No, that's fine, I'd already worked out that my career plan was shot to fuck by the total inability to socialise, you didn't have to make me go deaf as well.
2. I am not eating enough. Hahahahah the fat girl thinks she's starving ahahahaah. But I'm not. Part of the reason I'm not eating enough solid food is because I've decided that cider is better for me than sandwiches GO EMPTY CALORIES GO and part of the reason is my magical new idea of "stopping eating when I feel full" rather than "eating until I physically can't any more" which is supposed to be part of my "stop being as insane as you have been for most of your life" campaign. The problem with this otherwise laudable project is that it turns out I get full REALLY QUICKLY (I suppose because of all the FAT IN THE WAY, right, guys? Right?) and then don't eat enough and then wake up furiously hungry but can only manage half a sandwich and then am hungry again by 10am and what I'm trying to say is I DISLIKE BEING A PRIMATE.
3. Ran out of work today. This was a pain primarily because Jess had to go to bed at some point and I couldn't just keep innundating her with grotesque vomitings from my Id, and then I had to go on the internet to amuse myself because the print in my book is too small for me to read when my FACE IS EXPLODING FROM MY SINUSES and then it turned out that everyone on the entire internet is still a) a twat, b) wrong about everything and c) stupid. My opinions are in no small way supported and indeed formed by the weather continuing to be bizarre and my office continuing to not have air conditioning of any kind or a fan on my desk or a lax enough dress code to allow me to go in naked and carrying a block of ice.
4. Someone on Tumblr attempted to correct me on my decision to tell them to shove their stupid ideas up their cunt, and may possibly have received further invective as a result. I'd apologise, but I'm not sorry, it's still too hot, my face hurts, and you're an annoying dick. I don't understand the need for people to slather their personal blogs in massive banners about how they've achieved a basic standard of personhood, expressed in vomitworthy colours and the sentiment "this blog is intersex positive", as if every other blog on tumblr which doesn't bother to expect pats on the fucking back for being PROGRESSIVE (or "behaving like a member of the human race instead of a snivelling turdplate") is automatically fundamentally opposed to intersex folks;asexuality;the forty other things faceache was keen that everyone know he supported. Maybe I should just get a massive "IDGAF ABOUT ANYTHING YOU IDENTIFY AS PROVIDING YOU AREN'T A MORON AND DON'T EXPECT ME TO LISTEN TO YOU WHEN MY FACE IS EXPLODING" banner. Or a t-shirt reading "I'm not a rapist and I don't fiddle kids" and wait for the accolades to roll in.
5. Pleasant things from today: Jess, in general. Discovering that I'd accidentally written 4,000 words of total self-indulgence. Listening to old ISIHAC and trying very hard not to scream with laughter, especially when it turned out that one of the entrants to the Drunkard's Ball back in about 1979 was "Duncan Disorderly", ie. my erstwhile boyfriend's skate name. Reading about and understanding more of Mill's neuro notes, even if the likelihood of me retaining any of the information is quite small. The continued deliciousness of Bulmers No. 17. Taking my fucking bra off. Kassie and Lucy discussing how to translate "Quintus is being bummed by a five-headed dragon" in relation to Kassie potentionally teaching me Latin. The fact that my dinner has just arrived.
6. It is occasionally gratifying to discover that other people have similar ideas of submission and dominance to you, unlike the forty million BDSM bloggers; it is less gratifying when those other people are Chris Corner. And no one but Bitchy Jones, who stopped blogging some time ago, will say "dude it's cool to have fantasies that would end in hospitalisation, arrest, or public censure in the real world" instead of wanking on forever and ever about what it all means and the importance of SSC. Fuck SSC. I'm perfectly well aware of the paradox: things I want will only ever come from the kind of person who shouldn't be allowed near anyone ever, and the kind of person who can be trusted to do hitty sex won't do the things I want. QED. Also I'm fat and ugly and have hairy nipples and my voice is really grating and I'm shit at sex etc.
7. Why did we let the idiots have perfectly good words? Now they've got all spoiled by people.