January 18, 2004 :: 12:06 a.m.
perhaps cat-headed obstinance would be more appropriate
Ukjsbfasidubgoqweubgeiubgoqweg.
That is how I feel right now. Like a big ugly mess. This whole being sick thing? Needs to find another body to use as a vacation resort. Because this is just entirely unpleasant. And apparently I have a new and as-yet undiscovered strain of the flu that is resistant to any and all medicine. I took Sudafed Cold & Cough. I took Robitussin Cough Gels. I've been sucking throat drops like icky candy. None of it has been the least bit effective. I have the Super Germ or something.
My mom suggested that I take some of the Honey Cough syrup that was in the bathroom cabinet, but seeing as how it expired in 2001 I thought it would be best to abstain. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps the key to defeating the Super Germ is downing an entire bottle of heavily-expired cough medicine. It could happen, I guess. However, I try to avoid taking liquid cough medicine whenever possible as that way lies vomiting. And then several rousing sessions of dry heaving after my stomach is completely emptied of natural acids and said offensive syrup.
Fucking hell. Rufus is getting on my last nerve tonight, man. The puffy little bastard needs to learn some things. Such as, my thighs are not his personal scratching posts. And the extremely over-loaded shelves under my desk are not places for him to sleep. And the bag of books waiting to be made into purses are not really cat toys in disguise. And, most importantly, we do not CHEW on the flowers that Adam brought me this afternoon.
Adam, being the sweet and wonderful boyfriend that he is, brought me a bouquet of really beautiful flowers this afternoon. So we put them in water and placed the vase on the windowsill that Rufus has adopted as his own, because that's the only spot in the room that gets any sun. Well, stupid bastard-face satan cat decides that the flowers smell just DELICIOUS, and so of course they must taste that way as well. Chomp chomp chew gnaw chew chomp lick. I have to keep moving them over onto the TV table whenever Rufus returns to his sill, which is like every 10 minutes. GAH! Impossible feline! We do not chew on flowers!
And then he comes over looking for some lovin' immediately afterward, the smug little bastard. He won't listen to a damn word I say. I've even tried physically removing him from the flowers, and occasionally giving him a light tap on his full and well-padded rump, but to no avail. It's like attempting to communicate with a brick wall using sign language. At least Buddy has the decency to feign a look of shame when he's caught doing something bad.
Le sigh. I'm sick. I can't stop coughing. My hair looks funny. The cat is eating my flowers. And I keep seeing pictures of these amazingly gorgeous women and wondering why I wasn't born looking like that. Seriously, who did I offend? Who's parked car did I hit in a past life? Because god-fucking-dammit, there's obviously such an excess of "pretty genes" that a whole lot of people got extra-super-sized helpings. And I mean, I'm not a leper or anything. I'm not hideous. But I'm certainly not beautiful, and isn't that what every woman wants to be? I don't even have that kind of potential buried anywhere. It's all just plain features and boring colors and thin hair and a tendency to gain weight around the stomach.
And don't even start in on me about how looks aren't everything, because I'm aware of that. I'm not a brain-washed high-schooler with a subscription to YM. I'm just saying... it would be nice to be beautiful. And all the talent or intelligence or depth in the world can't make up for the fact that I don't like what I see in the mirror.
Yeah, I know. Blah blah blah I suck. I'm so terribly predictable.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005