3 TMI Post

1. While grabbing then shaking my thigh-fat during a fight with my parents tonight (we're a passionate breed, us) my dad gives me this shocked look and goes, "You have a tattoo?!" when he was the very first person I told/showed when I got the dumb thing.
2. Friday or Saturday I was in a verbal argument that resulted in not leaving the bathroom until about five pm last night, not even to call work, because apparently being well enough to call in means being well enough to go.
3. Did you know that after olfactory and maxillary surgery, vomiting usually ends with a downright apocalyptic sneeze that, more often than not, will make the author bang the back of her head against the faucet? -especially if she is forced to utilize every basin in the entire house, including the tub and one misplaced flower pot?

I'm not an entirely happy camper right now, in other words.

I love Missouri. I love Illinois with all my heart, and despite living next to a railyard and stockyard, still have a soft spot for Kansas. But I hate the Midwest.

This one is a relatively new discovery, maybe only a few minutes old, but I've come to realise that a lot of my hassles and griefs are coming from the location, the people, and the circumstances.

Also. Due to unforeseen emotional blackmail, plans with Brandon have been canceled or at least postponed and if he reads this before he gets off work/I call him, feel free to grant me with the Biggest Douche Bag in the Universe Award.

One more gripe, then I'll get back to digging around through spider nests: Why post an ad for an apartment when your building has absolutely no openings, or even temporary vacancy?

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My prescription for the day? Close blinds, curl up in bed with Mudhoney blaring, enjoy a good book in my own home.

The activities for the day? Painting and packing then unpacking.

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Ah. To end this on a good note: Someone I've been writing with for about a year informed me last night that we have about 400 pages down. That made me slap-happy.