jwaneeta

Al Gore, you shrieking bitch. Run, you dog, run. It's called public service, you limp thing, and who cares if it's a burden on your disappointed, deep-thinking self. You might actually win this time, pouter. Ring. Hat. Jesus.

It's pretty bad when the only guy you want to run the country is all talk and no do.

The tizzy about fanfic_hate has me puzzled. No. wait -- don't wanna get into it. *deletes with gusto* Minefields and me, never good.

Moving on adroitly: for some reason when I hit puberty my blood became repulsive to biting bugs. As a child they ate me, but when I became a woman I put away childish things and the mosquitos found me unyummy.

So I walk with impunity in the bug fields of the night. While others are bathing in Off, I sip my diet coke and chuckle indulgently. It's nice to have poison coursing in your veins. I'm kryptonite to midges. I feel almost special -- I feel invulnerable, okay? It's my Dollar Store superpower.

So when something nasty bit me on the ankle three days ago, I felt sorta betrayed. And it's ugly, too. Two tiny distinct puncture marks, and the damned thing is still red and hard and boo hoo all itchy. What the hell was that thing? I hope you choked on me, ya wee bastard.

Hey, maybe it was a Brown Recluse (arachnids are probably exempt from the biting insect/repulsion thing) and actually I should be dead now. But I'm not, because of my cheesy bug invulnerabilty? Erm.

Gak! What if I'm pre-menopausal and the inedible quality of my blood will vanish when I stop, you know, being technically fertile? Wow, I suck at theories.

We all wore parkas to watch Shakespeare on the Green last night. It's absurdly chilly, and has been so for a solid week. Doggone it, it's the tail end of June. Damn you, global warming! You make everything... colder.