I've got the bloat, the bitchies, the munchies, the crankies...
I'm consuming disgustingly vast quantities of popcorn, chocolate, potato chips and french onion dip (contrary to what you think, dip isn't always eaten alongside chips. It can be eaten straight out of the jar. With a spoon. Not that I know anything about that...)
Parts of my body are currently 5x their normal size. You know, my butt, my gut, my boobs, my ankles and my cheeks.
I have lost all sense of personal hygiene, meaning, I may or may not have stopped showering, brushing my teeth, brushing my hair, shaving, wearing deodorant**...
I may or may not be wearing these pants (click to enlarge)...
...holed up in my room and avoiding going out in public at all cost (hello! Did you see what I was wearing?)
If you don't know what any of this means, I can only assume that you are male. And not having sex on a regular basis. Meaning you must not have a woman in your life right now. Or else you would totally understand.
You're probably wondering what this all means to you, right? Well, not that much, but I thought I would mention it. I also thought I should mention that in a few days I will be venturing to my sisters house for a week. We have big plans. Mainly, the LOST series finale on Sunday (yeah, I'm driving 5-6 hours for a TV show. What of it?). There will also be tons of nephew bonding, a game night, and a party for a 3rd birthday.
Unfortunately, my sis does not have wireless internet, which means I can't use my laptop there and am limited to her desktop that lives in the upstairs hallway.
Which means, I can't promise much in the way of posts for a week beginning on Sunday. I'm trying my hardest to pre-write and schedule some posts, which is going well seeing as I have no intention of venturing out into the real world until the bloat is over (one of the
only bonuses to being unemployed).
Can someone
please remind me that I've got shit to do on Friday. You know, that whole
you're-a-smarty-pants award thing? Thanks.
For your entertainment, I present to you, my toe wound (you're going to be tempted to click on this image to enlarge it. For the love of god, don't do it! You've been warned.):
Incidentally, the toe is starting to smell a little. And it no longer looks like this as I took this pic on Monday. I'm
slightly concerned. Especially since the skin flap is starting the shrink away from the edges of the gaping wound, which, although you can't really tell from this pic, is quite deep. I'm thinking I might have to preform some surgery here in the near future. *sigh*
UPDATE: I just managed to drop a knife on my toe (yes, that toe) while making toast. I am, by far, the most consistent uncoordinated person EVER.
UPDATE ON THE UPDATE: And then I proceeded to trip across my bed (yes, across my bed. Don't ask) on my way to post this update and dragged my toe across the bed. That skin flap is so toast (haha).
So, in conclusion, my gut feels like Mount Saint Helens***, my toe smells like Limburger, and I'm on the verge of becoming a super-hairy, super-smelly, hermit/recluse. Or maybe something more like this:
And furthermore, what is up with the world being sans PMS-meds right now? Seriously, that shit should be handed out like candy to every woman anytime we walk into a drug store/grocery store/post office/coffee shop/liquor store...
* See here and here if you didn't catch the meaning of this post's title. ** If you're new to this blog, at this point you're probably imagining how seriously freakin' hot I am, right? And you would be right. I am smokin'!
*** This site says Mount Saint Helens is a volcano that "erupted in 1980 and wreaked havoc on the people once again." I was born in 1980. Coincidence? I think not.
I needed to tell you about this. Remember back when, when I told you about Out of Print? And remember how I told you about how great their customer service is? I mean, really, it is. And remember how I had ordered a shirt and was concerned about receiving it before I moved? Yeah, well Jeff was able to get it to me THE DAY BEFORE I moved. How awesome is that?
