Yeah yeah, I really need to post more than just videos every now and then, but there are some things that just need sharing. And as soon as my bank account recovers from paying last month’s mobile bill, I’m snagging that track off Amazon and making it my new obsession.

I love The Guild. Love.

Anyway, news… news. Eh. School is coming up next week (gasp, oh noes). Later this week, I have “pre-employment testing” to go to, for whatever that means. I don’t even rate an interview. I just get tested. THE REAL WORLD IS JUST LIKE COLLEGE LOL. Oh, and I love a guy who hits you with flowers, chocolates and love notes, all on separate occasions, but well within a week’s time. Ok, so the chocolates were M&M’s, but I LIKE THEM OKAY. THEY WERE YUMMY. And also a surprise, so I count them! Officially. Hehe.

Want to hear a joke? Ok. Radiohead, [Your Favourite Hippie Stoner Band Here], and Faust walk into a bar…

PUNCHLINE: These Are My Twisted Words  (Advance / Leak / 2009)

Well. If this is really genuine, at least Phil still knows how to play drums.

H’okay, so. It seems that ever since I started taking Ortho-Cyclen, my moods had greatly improved during the three weeks of pillnommin’. More high-spirited than usual, skipping around all tra-la-la like, and everything was good. Better than usual. But then on the off week, I would always take a total nose-dive and be highly irritable, crying, screaming, depressed and all sorts of nasty things. I didn’t notice how serious it was, or that it even was cyclical, until Kev moved in and I started paying more attention to my behaviour. After our most recent blow-up event, I realized that it happens every single time. Not PMS or PMDD, because it doesn’t “fade shortly before your period”, but started as soon as my progesterone dropped low enough to start insulting my uterus’ interior decorator.

I decided that I’d try a little experiment this month, and just not go off the pill at all. And so far, it seems to be working. Not being a totally raging hormonal bitch, AND helping to save our environment by not littering landfills with feminine hygiene products? Pretty sweet. Getting cancer because I of taking birth control nonstop? Yeah, well, who needed a uterus anyway? To the garbage heap with that worthless POS!

Now, it makes me wonder. I reckon this little experiment is suggestive that I will be a wonderful, happy, bubbly Miss Optimistic sort of person should I ever find myself in a knocked-up state. The post-partum depression is going to fucking kill me, though. So no screaming hellspawn until I can afford a full-time, live-in nanny for the first two or three months. I hope she cooks and cleans. I’d like that.