Halloweeniebutts

Not too many kids tonight, what with the friggin hurricane that just rolled through the other day, but the good, courteous ones? They were nerds and superheroes and witches. *sniff* So sweet.

They got extra candy.

Happy Halloween & Brightest Samhain blessings on you, whether you're tricky or a treat.

Cosi Cosa

Instead of the hub getting a boatload of OT by staying at work through the storm, they closed the place down for a day or so which means he's stuck with me tomorrow during the hurricanasaurus...and he won't even get paid for it. Part of me (okay, most of me) is glad he won't be a highway away for three days and nights. I'm not gonna lie to you, Marge, I was plain scared to be here alone. Yes, I know the cats will be here too, but they have no thumbs. That Man is away til' tomorrow morning, so he says, but if this storm becomes truly huge I'll bet he won't be home either.
Which would leave me alone with thumbless howling fuzzbutts and no transportation should the need arise.

So yes, I am a bit happier knowing ill not be gimping around with potentially no power.

Now if I could just go the fuck to sleep!

Head to Toe

Don't you hate those mornings wherein you awake feeling certain that a fleet of monster fucking trucks not only drove over you, but drove through you?

Me too.

But today is costume-making day for my dear friend, and if there's anything to distract me from this ridiculous pain, it's making gory costumes. Also cats.

Descriptive

My brain is full of words and images and concepts, but mostly words. I read the dictionary for fun, scrabble is my favourite board game, books are my closest & oldest friends. The hardest part of each move for me was always my books, since there are hundreds of them. I returned a love letter once with red pen corrections (to be fair, he'd misspelled "the".) (yes, really). Now that you've a better understanding of my verbivore habits, can you tell me why I've been thus far unable to accurately describe the pain I am in each fucking day? 'Cause I sure as shit can't. Have some words:

Aching
Dull
Shooty
Twitchy
Bruised
Broken
Heavy
Sore
Stabby
Fiery
Pointless.

If these were shorter-than-average miners names, we'd all be fuckled.

Time to put food in me and then add the pills and then go back to my comfortable & warm prisony bed.

(Yo stabby, c'mon over and get the pity-bus outta here, now)

Sometimes I Wonder

Why did I grow up to be disabled?

Why did men take advantage of me at every age?

How can I make everything better?

What is the point of living like this?

Aah, but then I remember the answer to the last one: the point is to live. To join my breath to the world, to brighten days and shoulder some of the heavy burdens. To make people laugh.

I can not make everything better for everyone, but I can make them better for me. That doesn't solve my problem, but it's a nice sentence...

Bah. I'm trying to be positive. Helpful. Supportive. But all I am is tired, sore, frustrated and nervous.

'S Too Long, Lemme Sum Up:

I've been busy:

• had the plague, kicked it (the plague/flu, not any buckets)
• made sets of earrings & necklaces for myself & the other 5 bridesmaids in our dear friends' wedding
• painted some pumpkins for above
• helped with the shower and bachelorette party
• had a few arguments with That Man
• got mah hairs and mah makeups did for the wedding*
• cleaned up piss
• pissed myself once, hooray hooray
• listened to beautiful music
• twitched a lot
• took a bit of the ol' xanny for major friggin' anxiety far more often than I'd prefer
• um
• probably slept a bit here and there, maybe ate food
• as a result, accidentally lost 10+ lbs
• Ana says that is good, but Common Fucking Sense says mangia, bitch

I've read books, wrote bits, sung more, learned more about myself and stood up for my family with more strength. I've missed friends and family of all categories, cried 'til my eyelids won't work, been scared, been strong, been me. 

Now, I'm going to relax. Because I can and my body demands it. But I will not feel guilty for it. I earned a fuckin' rest, yo! 

*I am still the mismatched, baggy-hoodie wearing child who grew up more comfortable in her older brother's hand-me-downs than anything anyone bought specifically for me. Shit, I still wear some of his old clothes, heh. So makeup & hair styling? More foreign to me than a man waking up suddenly vaginaed. But I felt confident and elegant, and THAT was even more strange. I liked it. Here's proof:

Cold Comfort

There is a flu rooting around in me, so I'm watching movies. A lot of them. Well, maybe that's not entirely accurate; I'm watching Cold Comfort Farm on repeat. It is impeccably cheering and I giggle throughout each time.
Ugh. Blowing my nose is not fun.
Time to take nyquillish goo & watch something...maybe Gosford Park. Must be the accents, I never could resist 'em.

What the What

How in all the gods' names did I end up related to a man who thinks women's fashion nowadays are inviting sexual attacks.

I'd have ended that with the proper punctuation, but I sincerely do not want to know.

Expletive Deleted

I'm out of cusses, at least as far as the VA is concerned. They certainly stunned me today with the callous, rude, insulting way I was lied to by an exceptionally inept asshole.

Seriously, folks; if you've got a loved one or even a liked one under the care of the veterans association, get the the fuck away as fast as possible. They're overworked, understaffed and completely lacking in common human decency.

Buncha dicks is what they are, dammit.

Maybe I'll explain tomorrow, maybe you'll see it in the news...who knows.