You guys are so the best. Seriously. I've had four days off after slogging my guts out, and what does some fecker do? Fecking ruin it. But the Indy trailer on telly today and hubbie and you guys have done so much to cheer me up. Thank you thank you thank you.
"actwally some people like my theories on wimmin in olden days"
ME! I do I do! Teh wimmins did fings like teh mens in olden days! They had combs and their bones said stuff about how they lived and worked!
See. I knows all stuff cos of Sefi yeah!
They (a select few) think I should be in a mansion with servants and doing something more productive like being a kept woman who eats bon-bons and complains about the help.
They'll be sorry when you're Indiana Jones. Am formulating a story about a female adventurer who competes with a male adventurer. They see who can find the most buried important wimmins and the lost cities of Bubabongo and fings, while getting involved in mad Nazi plots. I'm even thinking of giving her a screaming lunkhead singer/dancer, who ends up following her on an adventure- like Kate Capshaw in Temple Of Doom!
And you can totally be her. Sefiana Jones And TEH Buried Wimmins!
Take that, silly Audi loving people!
I will get a stick and hit them in the face if you like?
Yes. Yes! Hit them! Maybe with an ancient artefact from the abandoned mole hill of Azabyan!
I friggin *adore* you. How could anyone *not*? They'd have to be stoopid or complete mentalists!
I adores you right back, sugar bean! And as for the mentalists that don't, like, I totally know! How could they not? Weirdoes. But oh, maybe they're not weirdoes and I am unbearable and evil and the arc of the covenant is going to melt me!
I didn't close my eyes, Indy! How can I when you're naked?
I'm just shitty about replying, especially in this thread. I like to vent my angst here and then walk away from it for a bit. Sort of like a stray dog taking a poo.
Please don't explain! I'm embarrassed enough as it is for being an idiot.
Dude, I am right there with you. Hey, maybe you and I are emotional/creative twin buddies at the moment!
I think it must be! Because Lord:
(Or at least partly rubbish. EVERYONE can't hate me! )
Have I ever told myself that seventeen thousand times this weekend.
I was talking with another "very busy person" friend, and my conclusion is that it was down to stress. You push yourself too hard, something's gotta give, and I think with me (and probably you) it comes out as emotional weirdness and paranoia.
I think you're right, bebe. Started a new job, still working hard and being treated like cr*p at old job, etc. Plus I now cry at the drop of a hat- am an emotional wreck. Two separate people said to me that they thought I was awesome for even coming into work with my ankle still gimpish, and I just blubbed like turning on a switch! Used to take me ages to work up to tears.
(Which, incidentally is NOT helping the bloke sitch. He loves me! He hates me! He wants my babymaker! He's taken out a contract on my life!)
I can't imagine how much tougher my petty little people don't like me stuff must be when applied to blokes. Stupid blokes and their taking contracts out on our lives!
Not that any bloke will do this to your sexy fabulous self, unless it's a contract on your sex life, committing you to a non stop shagathon with him.
Much. Kill them with your sexmo, VL!
Have a kip. If you can.
Yes yes I will kip. I will kip all over his face. And then we'll keep keep kipping all night long 'til the break of dawn. Etc.
Think of how much more awesomeness there would be in the world if we had the time we need and didn't have to haul our awesome arses into jobs every day.
Don't worry. Soon Sefiana Jones will find the lost Temple Of Wimmins, and once we've run away from giant boulders and forks that fly out of walls and jumped over the pit of snake-monkeys and closed our eyes to the immense sexmo of Indy in a loin cloth saying kali-mar shaki di day, we will find the lost combs of Wimminia, and sell them to Chinese business men who poison us-
Must stop obssessing about Indiana Jones.
What?! You feeling no better for that?!
I will if you pretend to be Indy while you're loving me!
Wait. That came out wrong.
I'm crumbling away into nothing.
*cements PNW back together again with the cement of the Ancient City of Sexmo okay now I have to stop*
Ugh, sounds exactly the way I feel. Only instead of doing stuff about it I sit around eating chocolate mousse and listening to Leonard Cohen.
If I'm thinking of the right person, Leonard Cohen is REALLY not going to help. Choco mousse will, tho. When rubbed all over Indiana Jones. See, you put the mousse on him to ward off the Ancient Evil of Choctasia-
Just have some hugs, instead.