It seems like the proverbial, universal funk has taken over the planet lately. Is there another damned retrograde going on? It's workin' my tits if it is and it needs to get its ass spinning back the right way before I climb up onto the roof of this crack hotel and start flingin' dingleberries at all the junkies and hookers.
I don't know what pterodactyl has crawled up my twat lately, but I am just not havin' it. "It" being ANYTHING. At. All. I have 117 and half blogs bumbling about in my head but don't feel like writing any of them. The one on Christmas day alone is a doozy. I read all of y'all's posts, but haven't the gumption to comment (sorry). I barely want to cook - much less eat. I don't want to talk to anyone. Have had my web messenger hooey thing set to invisible and I just sit there snarling at it as people come and go - hoping to hell they don't decide to message me even though they can't see me. T.V. annoys me (not that that's a big stretch). Hell breathing lately annoys me - mine or that of anyone else. I am one funky, cranky bitch.