I Should Be Working Or Sleeping....

....But I'm not. I'm writing.

First of all, my leg hurts. I'm so fucking tired of it. My leg hurts, I've got calcium deposits popping up all over my damn face and spider veins all over my legs (yes, this is all relevant to this shit), and I may or may not have a fucking patch of it on my face. :(

I remember when I was 6 or 7 years old, when my parents were hauling me back and forth to Birmingham to specialists, the doctor said, "She's lucky she doesn't have it on her face. That's where a lot of people have it."

Ok, 1.) I didn't exactly feel lucky, 2.) That's kind of a shitty thing to say to someone, and 3.) What if the shit IS on my fucking face now? :(

Also, one of the big reasons I hate Birmingham? Being told at a very young age in that shithole of a town that I'd be deformed for the rest of my life, and, oh, sorry, we can't help you. Best of luck to you.

Sorry, I'm bitter today. I'm just tired of it hurting so much. It hasn't always. :(


Ok, changing to other news now. Chronic, incurable, untreatable disease talk is too depressing.


I've been cooking, making desserts, and (sort of) cleaning while ChaosKitty's been here. It's really satisfying, knowing that I'm making someone happy with even my limited cooking repertoire and completely random system of dessert-making. Yes, I love when people tell me how awesome I am and show their appreciation. Sorry, I love having my ego stroked.

But, at its core, it's more than just that. I love to do things for people that make them happy.

But I'm not submissive. *Eyeroll*

I'm not even going there today. I don't think I have it in me.


I had a lot of ideas of shit to write about, but I can't remember any of them now. But I guess it really doesn't matter. I write this for me, and it's not like anybody but ChaosKitty and Fangbunny read it, anyway, and then only occasionally.

Bed now.