#600: DOWN WITH WEEPING

Over the last five days, I have wept and cried and bemoaned. I have bawled and lamented. I have even peppered my whining and snivelling with some plaintive whimpering. I shot tears straight out of my eyes and onto the lenses of my glasses. I hid wads of snotty toilet paper under the bed.

In short, I really didn't hold up well under the weight of a nasty flu virus and premenstrual stress. Just about anything had me crying, whether good or bad, and the tears would spring up without warning. I was just about to enter my beloved Shoppers Drug Mart a few days ago, thinking that I was feeling fine, when I realized that my cheeks were frozen over with a glaze of salt water. I had been weeping unconsciously because I felt too fine to stay dry-eyed about it. Since then, I've been spending a lot of time at home.

Things That Made My Fluey And Premenstrual Self Cry Over The Last Five Days

  1. The finale of the first season of "Six Feet Under" made me well up, because everyone was left happy while fearing for the death of either a loved one or themselves. They were happy and sad. Deep.

  2. I thought about how I was going to die, or the Palinode was going to die, and then we wouldn't be together anymore, and why would the universe be set up to destroy every good thing like that?

  3. The wastefulness of toilet paper and our obvious disrespect for the planet and its forests was deeply saddening. Humanity's basic disconnect from the natural world felt devastating.

  4. This stupid kitten picture set me off, and then how pathetic that was set me off.

    emo kitten


  5. I was gripped with the sudden belief that every last thing I had ever created was pure and utter shit. My obvious lack of self-awareness sucked the light out of the room. Wa-ha-ha.

  6. My antiperspirant, which was the favourite kind I have ever owned, stopped being as effective as it once was, and the devastating reality of change crushed me.

  7. I ordered dry ribs in, which I lovingly doused in lemon juice and salt before finding that I was too ill to eat more than four of them.

  8. I watched the following 1980s television ad for Plumpers and barely made it to the end of the commercial before racing to the kitchen and throwing up what dry ribs I had been able to eat earlier. I cried because I had pork chunks stuck in my sinuses.

  9. Oscar, my black cat, was so worried about me after I threw up that he followed me to bed and kept checking to see that I was alright. This moved me deeply, and I took his behaviour as proof that life was, indeed, beautiful. Cue the tears.

I am happy to note, though, that the premenstrual loserdom has shuffled off to three weeks from today, and the flu, she is all gone. Poof. I hardly knew her. Now I can go back to callously putting sugar in the salt shakers at restaurants and kicking little kids and mocking people who happen to be both stupid and good-looking behind their backs. Maybe I'll try to make up for that whole weepy, open-hearted phase with some extra nastiness like starving my cats needlessly. Oh, wait. I'm already doing that as I write this. Shit.

Palinode, can you pick up some cat food after work? That would be sweet. Thanks.

Everyone else, if you vote for me right now, I promise to stop starving my cats. They will be ever so thankful.



Between now and December 15th (approximately), if you want to support this website and urge the voting public in my direction, feel free to post one of the following two kinds of links in your blog entries or sidebar, and then e-mail me to let me know of your awesomeness so that I can include your website in the Syndicate of Schmutzie Stalwarts list at the top of the page:
  • <*a href="http://2006.weblogawards.org/2006/12/best_canadian_blog.php">Vote for Schmutzie's <*i>Milkmoney Or Not, Here I Come<*/i> as the 2006 Weblog Awards Best Canadian Blog<*/a>

    The code above, minus the asterisks, will look like this:
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  • Post that link. It's the right thing to do.

    Elan Morgan8 Comments