My Throat Will Be Next


I just recovered from my last bout of sickness less than a month ago, and now my nose feels like a separate entity, like a mucus alien that has attached itself to my face, but not yet to my nervous system. The space between my eyes is like a black hole, drawing said eyes ever inward in an agony of throbbing pain. I must keep my mouth open constantly to breathe, making me a now chronic mouth-breather, as they are called in the medicinal field. I had to buy Blistex today, since the regular Chap crap doesn't really cut it. Let me let you in on a trade secret: Blistex feels great on raw and chapped nostrils. When, you know, you can take a second from blowing your nose. And if you're able to reapply it every few seconds.

At least I have The Office to keep me company. I'm totally shipping Jim and Pam, and I can't wait for Roy to get the axe. I totally know he does, eventually. Really.


To Be Alive, One Must Have A Life

People can be pretty disappointing in real life. Like, maybe you listen to this local band, and they're totally awesome, but you meet the people in real life and realize they're just a bunch of stuck up fucking hipsters.

Or that wonderful guy you met in that chat room who totally understands you and who turns out to be about twenty years older, morbidly obese, and married. And a total fuckwad idiot.

Or your friends on Myspace who (all 928) all look so cool and sexy in their photos but who are really a bunch of trashy whorish cunts who don't know what to do with their lives.

Oh. OH, and how about that "missed connection" on craigslist? I don't even want to think about that one. At least on a dating site you get some stats to check out before you talk to someone, rather than just "hey i saw u, ur pretty hott, send me an email with pics so i know its u."

In other news, I read a fucking lot.


I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself

For the last week I've been chewed at and gnawed on by an unknown quantity of fleas. Not so many that I've been able to spot them, but not so few that a day and night hasn't gone by when I haven't scratched deperately at fresh welts.

Last time I had a flea, I found it within a few hours after it had bitten me about five or six times. This time, however, the fleas have held out. They've held fast through showers, changes of clothes, and shampoo. They've even managed to evade the comb I use whenever I shower. Last night I thought I had them. I nabbed one on my face, but I dropped it before I could get a good look (I knew by the feel, though). The second one I discovered on the bed where I'd been lying. It had wings which made me dubious until I gave it cause to jump. I tried to tear it apart with my nail, but it got away, and the cat's been scratching enough to make me suspicious.

I truly thought I might actually be free, after being plagued for a week.


Tonight at work I felt the familiar aching itch begging to be scratched on my leg. A fresh bite! It was agonizing. I despair of being freed from this menace, at least until I wash with Dawn dish soap, which I am told is a good remedy. At least for dogs.


Little House On The Big Prairie

I took this shirt that was cute up top but waaaay too tight 'round my stomach, cut off the top, and sewed it (by machine) to a long length of soft fine jersey of a deep shade of blue. Now it's a very comfortable little dress, in keeping with the current styles.

Honestly though, I was more interested in making something comfortable. All these cute little babydoll tops always make my chest and shoulders look nice, but then they're tight the rest of the way down and it makes me self-conscious. Plus they're so tight all around, and made of such material, that my skin can't really breathe. Thus, the solution: take the part you like and add on to it, thereby making your own clothing, just like a prairie family.

If I made enough, maybe I could sell them online. Like on etsy.com, or something.