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.

…and I jizzed in my pants.

Needless to say, I cannot wait til March.

…this year, I am quitting smoking. I think. Last time I quit was right after I got back home from my trip to St Pete in February. I can’t begin to say why I quit that time… whatever inspired me to do it, but it sort of worked for a few months until I realized that buying cigarettes at your friendly corner convenience store was a somewhat easier (and a lot more legal) than buying Xanax at your friendly corner convenience store. So now that I only have one month left before class starts (read: one month left before I’m covered by University Health Services and can legally obtain said Xanax), I figured it’s a good time to try again.
Actually, I’m only doing it because Kev said he was going to try. But he seems determined to be self-defeating, which is going to make it all the more hard on me. Because yes, this is all about me and I’m the centre of the universe here.

Anyway. I’ve had since April to officially apply to the College of Social Work at UK, and I finally did my entrance essay just this morning… less than a week before I have to have it turned in. Luckily I can deliver it by hand, so I know it’ll hit their desk(s) before the first.

Finally, it takes a special kind of girl to fuck up Tuna Helper. And I am a very special sort of lady. What should’ve been cheesy noodles with tuna has been transformed into yellow mushslop with tuna flakes and burnt bits. I am not happy about this. But at least the salad part of dinner was okay. It’s just impossible to jack up lettuce.

Speaks for itself, I do say.

Nothing to report today, I’m afraid.  Just some cleaning here and there… sat and watched some Buffy for a while.  Still need to do this thing with laundry, what where you hang it up or at least put it away in some form or fashion after cleaning it, but I’ve been nursing a sore shoulder since Monday morning.  Is this a good excuse for not doing what I should?  Well, I’ve seemed to let it make sense in my mind.

Keep in mind, things in my mind rarely make sense to anyone else.  But that’s ok.

And they all lived… happily ever after? Kudos to this photographer for ruining everything we cherished about a childhood with Disney. Goodness knows that’s one of my favourite pastime activites, anyway. More images @ JPGmag.com

The story goes like this: I have a website called glostix.  Kev likes the name.  He jokes about getting his own website with a similar sounding name, so we can be a matched pair.  I say, well hey, why bother with that when you could just be part of glostix too?  And he’s like, oh hey, ok! So I set glostix up to be a joint-blog, with a shiny new layout, rearranging all of the pages (permanently jacking up orders and numbers of said pages), and WHAM!  We has a blog.  Except… nothing.  Nudge after careful nudge, prods, prompts, strong hints and suggestions, nothing.  Which has brought me to this day, when I just sort of gave up.

So now everything is back the way it was.  Leading horses to water, etc.

In other news, I still can’t find a job.  I’ve thrown out countless applications and resumes, gotten callbacks, interviewed, did my thang for nothing.  I’m starting to worry less and less about it, though.  Even though it pisses me off that everyone is looking for “experience” but no one is willing to give a girl a chance to GET experience, it’s not worth stressing myself over.  I wish I figured that out before I started smoking again, because now I have to quit all over again, which is surely going to make my “don’t stress it” attitude hard to stick with. Still, not stressing the lack of work.  If we can survive til the start of next semester, we’ll be just fine.