#393: A LITTLE BIT EVIL, A LITTLE BIT HORMONAL OVERDRIVEI am still feeling evil and can't be arsed to fiddle with creating a flowing narrative, so I am going to make another list, and you are going to have to like it or lump it.I ate an entire box of Kr@ft dinner tonight. It is a revolting thing to do, and I don't recommend it. If you love yourself, throw it out and eat an apple, or anything at all that does not contain orange plastic dust.A jewellery store advertising on television tonight referred to its diamond experts as "diamondtologists". That's horrible. Making that be a word is a terrible abuse of the language I love, but Google tells me "diamondtologist" is already entrenched.I took this picture a couple of months ago (click on it to see a larger version). Oh, for the days when I wore no coat!Read about how Saviabella and I are becoming regular victims of crazy male drivers with rage issues.I am so not feeling like I give a good goddam about Christmas this year. Christmas costs money, and most of mine goes to hefty student loan payments. Also, I don't like events that require a certain disposition; warm-and-fuzzy is a feeling that is not summoned up by the dead of winter, the stress of shopping, balancing gatherings between two families, and travelling on icey highways (I have a strong fear of highway travel). If I didn't feel so much pressure to perform like a sweet Christmas kitten rather than my usual snapping turtle self, I would probably like the whole season a lot more.The Fiery One and I are going to be in Costa Rica over the holidays, so thankfully, we get to avoid the whole scene. Or most of it. We are making a trip up to Cosmopolis this coming weekend to avoid having to put up family here, so this trip is more like a tourniquet on the flow of the usual annual holiday freakshow that is my side of the family. As luck would have it, moving the family gathering to my parents' place means that I will have access to the sweet relief of my father's good whiskey.The Fiery One is now officially on holidays, which means that he gets to stay home with Freakus, the-cat-formerly-known-as-Oskar. That cat is a nutbar of the highest order. Lookatme lookatme lookatme he yowls and whines as he rips and snorts around the house like a fart of fire. LookatwhatIlearnedhowtodo he chirps just before he launches himself through the air, claws grasping for your arms and shoulders, because if you can't hold him right this second, he will find a way to attach himself. Yesterday, when I stayed home from work, he took great joy in sitting on the back of the sofa and pulling on my hair with his teeth while he bapped the back of my head with his free paw. It makes me wonder how long the Fiery One's holidays will actually last under that kind of duress.One of my co-workers laughed at me when I used the word "duress" in conversation. Apparently, I use words that nobody else in my office does, and they think I talk funny.The world is showing no signs of flagging in its efforts to impress upon me that humanity sucks the big one.I will grow sweeter again once this Christmas shite is over with, we start drugging the cat, drivers with road rage are made to wear shock collars, thieves are always caught and duly pummelled, employment's duty is to allow us to live out our dreams, and someone puts some homemade orange/cranberry popsicles in my freezer. (I figured that while I was making a grocery list of pipe dreams, I might throw in some tasty freezer pops).Oh, yes, and in case you were wondering, this bout of PMS I am currently weathering is raging to beat the band.
Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;
Sappho's restriction was only the sky;
Ninon was ever the chatter of France;
But oh, what a good girl am I!
- "Words of Comfort to Be Scratched on a Mirror" by Dorothy ParkerThe Portable Dorothy Parker is a good book, believe you me.