(no subject)
menstrual_cups is full of unfunny troll posts today. I find I mind the unfunny more than the trollage by some way. Boo.
I am waking up at stupid times currently, as in the sort of time that would work in the REAL WORLD. It was a bit my fault last night, admittedly, as I went to bed at eight despite the snooker which was anyway becoming irksome because Ronnie's fans are very bad at shutting the fuck up. I did fear for the girl in the "RONNIE IS MY GOD" T-shirt, though, as I cannot really think of a more terrifying theology. There'd be floods every other bloody month, for a start, and horrible earthquakes when he decided to snap continents for a laugh. Not to mention the times when we'd be unable to sleep because of a big voice in the sky yelling at us to stop worshipping him because he's RUBBISH AT BEING GOD. (I am glad he is a bit of a wanker because that way I feel much less bad about sniggering at his mental health chaos. Yes, I am evil.)
Today I have plans. Small plans that might be viable. Move the buttons on my new top so it does not have stupidly short straps. Start transcribing that Wollstonecraft Place guidebook I wrote into nice little image files to make a virtual book. Do laundry. Photograph knitting. And that is it, because it is both a short list which is not that intimidating, and a lot more stuff than I would otherwise do.
Yesterday I made a mental list of my Body Image Issues, and put them in some sort of vague order. It made me feel better about it in an odd way because it looked so normal, like a list of the sort of things that far too many women's brains are trained to think rather than a sign that I am a mutant and/or insane. Under-eye shadows/bags are at number one I think, although Fur is a close second. What maddeningly ridiculous things to care about.
Must watch Demons. It is far too much joyous fail to miss.
I am waking up at stupid times currently, as in the sort of time that would work in the REAL WORLD. It was a bit my fault last night, admittedly, as I went to bed at eight despite the snooker which was anyway becoming irksome because Ronnie's fans are very bad at shutting the fuck up. I did fear for the girl in the "RONNIE IS MY GOD" T-shirt, though, as I cannot really think of a more terrifying theology. There'd be floods every other bloody month, for a start, and horrible earthquakes when he decided to snap continents for a laugh. Not to mention the times when we'd be unable to sleep because of a big voice in the sky yelling at us to stop worshipping him because he's RUBBISH AT BEING GOD. (I am glad he is a bit of a wanker because that way I feel much less bad about sniggering at his mental health chaos. Yes, I am evil.)
Today I have plans. Small plans that might be viable. Move the buttons on my new top so it does not have stupidly short straps. Start transcribing that Wollstonecraft Place guidebook I wrote into nice little image files to make a virtual book. Do laundry. Photograph knitting. And that is it, because it is both a short list which is not that intimidating, and a lot more stuff than I would otherwise do.
Yesterday I made a mental list of my Body Image Issues, and put them in some sort of vague order. It made me feel better about it in an odd way because it looked so normal, like a list of the sort of things that far too many women's brains are trained to think rather than a sign that I am a mutant and/or insane. Under-eye shadows/bags are at number one I think, although Fur is a close second. What maddeningly ridiculous things to care about.
Must watch Demons. It is far too much joyous fail to miss.