(no subject)
Dear fucking mother of God in a god damn mother fucking chicken basket on a buggering pogostick, I hate my God damned motherfucking cocksucking bastard of a uterus.
That is all.
No wait, it isn't.
I hate feeling like I've blown up like Veruca Salt (yes, I know I got the name wrong. LEAVE IT.) Oh Christ, I just typed the word "salt" and I can feel myself retaining more water just from that. My fingers are turning into little Vienna sausages, my face feels like the Exxon Valdez took a crap on it, and my nipples are measuring the barometric pressure changes from passing thunderstorms in various frequencies of OWIE OW OUCH OW!
I hate feeling like my hair hasn't been washed in the past year when I just washed it eight hours ago. I hate getting zits that want to invade my face, colonize it and convert it to worshipping their great zit-god Pustule. I hate feeling so bloated that I have a gut equivalent to twenty weeks of pregnancy. I hate my bra feeling like I've developed Elephantitis of the breast--the left one, specifically. The right seems to be quite happy and placid the way it is, except when it decides that there's OMG A WEATHER SYSTEM WITH a 900 millibar relative pressure right overhead. (Obviously, my nipple needs to be recalibrated. Sadly, my body, including the boobs, is out of warranty.)
I hate eating every single damned thing in the house. I hate eating salt and vinegar potato chips topped with Ghirardelli semi-sweet baking chips and green olives. I hate eating blocks of uncooked ramen noodles with the pseudo-chicken sodium powder like a lik-a-stik. I hate sucking the salt off of peanuts and spitting them out.
I hate feeling like I'm either going to burst into tears or start screaming incoherently at the next person I encounter. I hate people looking at me in fear. I hate knowing their fear is justifed. Even the cats look nervous.
So, to sum up, I fucking hate my God damned uterus. I want to get the damn thing ripped out so I can take it to a taxidermist, get it stuffed, and mount it next to the front door so I can punch the shit out of it every morning before I leave for work.
And NOW that is all.
That is all.
No wait, it isn't.
I hate feeling like I've blown up like Veruca Salt (yes, I know I got the name wrong. LEAVE IT.) Oh Christ, I just typed the word "salt" and I can feel myself retaining more water just from that. My fingers are turning into little Vienna sausages, my face feels like the Exxon Valdez took a crap on it, and my nipples are measuring the barometric pressure changes from passing thunderstorms in various frequencies of OWIE OW OUCH OW!
I hate feeling like my hair hasn't been washed in the past year when I just washed it eight hours ago. I hate getting zits that want to invade my face, colonize it and convert it to worshipping their great zit-god Pustule. I hate feeling so bloated that I have a gut equivalent to twenty weeks of pregnancy. I hate my bra feeling like I've developed Elephantitis of the breast--the left one, specifically. The right seems to be quite happy and placid the way it is, except when it decides that there's OMG A WEATHER SYSTEM WITH a 900 millibar relative pressure right overhead. (Obviously, my nipple needs to be recalibrated. Sadly, my body, including the boobs, is out of warranty.)
I hate eating every single damned thing in the house. I hate eating salt and vinegar potato chips topped with Ghirardelli semi-sweet baking chips and green olives. I hate eating blocks of uncooked ramen noodles with the pseudo-chicken sodium powder like a lik-a-stik. I hate sucking the salt off of peanuts and spitting them out.
I hate feeling like I'm either going to burst into tears or start screaming incoherently at the next person I encounter. I hate people looking at me in fear. I hate knowing their fear is justifed. Even the cats look nervous.
So, to sum up, I fucking hate my God damned uterus. I want to get the damn thing ripped out so I can take it to a taxidermist, get it stuffed, and mount it next to the front door so I can punch the shit out of it every morning before I leave for work.
And NOW that is all.