(no subject)
Swollen throat is scraped raw by my galliant efforts to actually eat today. Even had a little hunger, to give me an excuse. Now it hurts to eat frozen yogurt, even. I am a creature of gluttony! I can't take this not-eating thing much longer! Arrrrgh!
I know I'm supposed to be pushing fluids, too, but I'm tired of peeing. That's most of the reason I get dehydrated easily: I have no fondness for peeing. I rather like peeing only twice a day, thrice if I'm hiking. (I suspect it would be more when hiking, except my body thirstily absorbs 'most every drop I give it, and I think I have a large bladder.)
Sick of sick. I did manage a walk-around-the-block near sunset, but I'm aching to go out and do stuff.
You know, like burn some bridges or something.
I'm sure he didn't mean to imply that I'm a robot/fundie, or that he can never fully respect me. I have a full metaphorical explanation for everything! Silly little misinterprative, Drama Queen me.
Dammit, Unca, where's the small-children pen? Did we run out, again? I'm in the mood for some messy decapitation, and their screams are so deliciously uninhibited! Do I hafta go yell at your picture to get an answer? Hunh?
Oh, right. Can't yell. Can't talk.
Unplug the phone, methinks, and try this "reading" thing again. I'm fully absorbed in Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride, about a Dark Trickster and Self-Reinventor who makes me look like Snow White by comparison. I clap her on the back for her misdeeds so far, but I'd never rip the hearts out of all the men in one friend-circle. Well, I'd like to think that I could, but the truth is I'm not all that interested in most of my friends or their various SO's/sweeties/lovers/whatever.
I know I'm supposed to be pushing fluids, too, but I'm tired of peeing. That's most of the reason I get dehydrated easily: I have no fondness for peeing. I rather like peeing only twice a day, thrice if I'm hiking. (I suspect it would be more when hiking, except my body thirstily absorbs 'most every drop I give it, and I think I have a large bladder.)
Sick of sick. I did manage a walk-around-the-block near sunset, but I'm aching to go out and do stuff.
You know, like burn some bridges or something.
I'm sure he didn't mean to imply that I'm a robot/fundie, or that he can never fully respect me. I have a full metaphorical explanation for everything! Silly little misinterprative, Drama Queen me.
Dammit, Unca, where's the small-children pen? Did we run out, again? I'm in the mood for some messy decapitation, and their screams are so deliciously uninhibited! Do I hafta go yell at your picture to get an answer? Hunh?
Oh, right. Can't yell. Can't talk.
Unplug the phone, methinks, and try this "reading" thing again. I'm fully absorbed in Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride, about a Dark Trickster and Self-Reinventor who makes me look like Snow White by comparison. I clap her on the back for her misdeeds so far, but I'd never rip the hearts out of all the men in one friend-circle. Well, I'd like to think that I could, but the truth is I'm not all that interested in most of my friends or their various SO's/sweeties/lovers/whatever.