My most recent Twitter status: The voices are hollering at me for eating an entire 5 oz of Twizzlers. Must stab Twizzler in ear to shut them up.

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My facebook status reads “This being sick thing? It’s starting to suck ass. All week? Seriously? Fuck you, sick.”

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Taylor slept until one then took a nap from four until five. I’m envious. I want sleep, crazy, whenever I want it sleep, damn it.

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So I’m on my lunch break, sitting outside on my balcony with the laptoppy, a steaming mug of french vanilla java, homemade chocolate chip cookies, a smoke (yes, I started again. shame. fuck off) and the urge to sigh a big, huge sigh of relief. You would think that working from home would be easy.

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So I was cruising around FetLife, looking for something to inspire a rant or some deep thought or…  whatever.  Cuz, yanno, life in the Taylor y puss casa has been damned quiet and normal and uneventful for a damned long time.  (For those who may not know, puss = me.  Taylor calls me puss)  And

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I’ve discovered that not getting enough sleep, getting interrupted sleep or even thinking I’m not going to get enough sleep is enough to turn me into a demon. I lash out while I’m sleeping at any touch, the slightest elbow jab, a pillow stuffed over on my side of the bed that doesn’t belong there,

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Normally, I’m one of those girls who really likes her marks and bruises.  Welts and scabs and rainbows of purple, red, green and yellow – and the constant pressing and picking at those marks – make me feel happy.  They remind me of whatever activity caused them and the lingering pain keeps me slightly aroused.

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  So y’all know I’m a housemouse, right?   Being a housemouse, I have no real set bed time or wake up time.  I get up every morning to wake up the Teen but he’s way old enough to shower on his own and get off to school without me having to stay awake —

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I’ve talked a gazillion times about expectations.  I have.  I know I have. I also know that to let myself have a bunch of expectations about something pretty much sets me up to be disappointed. But I think I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not the expectations themselves… It’s unspoken, uncommunicated expectations.  Those types

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So I straightened and vacuumed the living room, wiped down the kitchen, got most of the laundry started… Taylor is at the garage working on the bike… I’m bored. There are a ton of things I could do but I just don’t feel like it. I hate days like this. I woke up before I wanted

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I have no idea what happened to me today.  I had such a good day yesterday and today I woke up a wreck. Crying. I’ve cried over corned beef and cabbage, safewords, Taylor’s goatee… It’s nuts. I think it might be a hormonal thing.  I’m sort of spotting (not that most of you care) and, since

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It’s odd. Taylor and I are together almost 24/7 in the winter.  Work is dependant upon the weather and, while the hours are long and hard when there is work, there’s not a whole lot of work. So not only are we in each other’s laps day in and day out but we’re usually even

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So this dying of death cold/flu/coughing/fever thing that’s taken over my house?  It really sucks.  Taylor is so sick he’s, basically, slept for three days straight.  He’s up a few hours in the middle of the night/early morning and that’s about it.  He’s literally sleeping 20 hours a day. I’m not feeling so great myself

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This morning found me screaming, screeching, whining and crying at Taylor about how tired I am of nobody giving a shit about me. I sounded like a teenage drama queen. I don’t know if it’s cuz I’m sick and have been varying degrees of sick for two weeks and have been taking care of a

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So I quit smoking.  It’ll be two weeks on Sunday.  And I promptly got sick. I have this wicked, horrible head cold going on.  I”m sicker than I’ve been in a long, long time.  Miserable. My nose is red and swollen and painful.  My throat hurts.  My sinuses are plugged and running at the same

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Not sure what the hell happened but I just spent the past two days with a major case of hives. They started Friday night on my back.  By Saturday morning my poor butt was covered in them. I spent nearly all day Saturday and Sunday in bed, dosed up on Benadryl.  They spread to my

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Yesterday, Taylor and I were watching tv and – out of the blue – he tells me he wants some ice cream.  In February.  We didn’t have any – because it’s February in Wisconsin – and neither of us were willing to go to the store at that time of night so I told him

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A half gallon bowl of candy on my desk. Five bags of pretzels. A truckload of gum. Can you guess what I’m doing? Add me on Twitter to know for sure. :P   ps. I hate everyone.

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So. You know that fantasy so many of us have about being beaten (or spanked), fucked and walked away from like it was nothing more than a coffee break?  Like we’re just a pocket pussy, a toy to get him off and when he’s done we may as well not exist?  Or something of that

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So I was sitting here, all curled up with some coffee and a book, when it hit me.  I’d just posted on Twitter about being old, boring and comfy.  And I am.  Perhaps too much so. I don’t have any anxiety or spirit or even much anger these days.  I’m just settled and contented and

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Ever notice that when you tell someone something they don’t want to hear they automatically assume you’re being defensive or mean, that you’re upset or trying to be condescending? I don’t get it. Though I wonder if I react that way, too. I don’t think so.  I like to think that if someone is just

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My thyroid is whacked. Sure, we already knew that.  But after almost four months of taking the levothyroxin my numbers still suck. My T3 and T4 (for those who know what this stuff means) are pretty much okay.  But my TSH is 14.8 (the "normal" being considered below 5 for most labs, the "optimal" being

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Meh.  Winter aggravates me sometimes. It’s been freezing, awful cold around here the past week or so.  I’m talking frigid.  Fifteen below with thirty five below windchills some nights. Which means we’re all sort of stuck in the house and bored out of our skulls.  It means the kid is around constantly and sex is

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The thyroid med got upped and I’m already starting to feel a bit more energetic so that’s a good thing.   The abnormal cells aren’t cancer but need to be watched so I’m in for 6 month paps for the next couple years.   The lump is going to be rechecked in six months for

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…some more.  Blah.  So I saw the general surgeon about the lump.  She says…  it’s a lump in the fatty tissue.  No idea what it is.  It just barely shows up on the CT scan and it hasn’t grown since I first noticed it like a year ago so she wants to either see me

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