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Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Curses…foiled again…

I may be slightly feral at the moment - you know, in that I'll-rip-your-face-off-and-then-burst-into-tears-if-you-piss-me-off-kind-of-way. Lordy, it's exhausting and I feel after a zillion years of dealing with this pms and period crap, it should and must finish now. No, really, it should. Whom do I see about that? Who is the cosmic prick who decided women should deal with this pukeable thing every month for god knows how many damn years? Find him. Bring him to me. I want to speak to him - and it can only be a ‘him’ because no woman, no matter how catty, would inflict this on another woman. It would be wrong. Women have more sense therefore it was a male cosmic being. No, no point arguing with me at the moment as you would lose and I would probably do a victory dance and maybe do one of those throaty war cries. No, I don’t have to be rational. I don’t want to be…so there.

What would I say to the miserable cosmic bastard in charge of making women cursed every month? A lot and it wouldn’t be pleasant but I feel enough is enough. Yes, yes, I know biologically why it happens but I feel when you reach say 24 and if you don’t have a maternal bone in your body then a magic spell should be cast over you and all this suffering ends. See how infinitely logical that is? That will be my first command when I rule the world.

I want menopause. No really, I do. Yes, I realize it's a different degree of crapaciousness but I’m ready for the change. I want the change. I DEMAND THE CHANGE. Bring it on.

Did I mention I’m somewhat ratty at the moment? Did I also mention I can repeat myself as many times as I like due to said rattiness…evil hiss…smell of sulphur…narrowing of eyes…where’s my goddamn Mars bar? So, to make myself feel better and to help the world economy, I bought a pair of shoes. Doc Marten's in fact. I love Docs and bugger it, I deserved them…okay maybe not, but shut up. Besides it was those or more chocolate and I feel I was being very good as shoes you can put on and remove but chocolate sits on you hips and arse forever - and thank you very much to the cosmic, frigging – no doubt again male - being who made chocolate fattening. No really, what a swell guy you are….eye roll…sneer…poking my tongue out at you. Anyway I bought the shoes in the picture. They're called Diva shoes. They're perfect. They’re the sort of shoes Minnie Mouse would wear when she’s pms’ing…what is it with her and Mickey? What a little, high pitched twit he is. You think she would have worked out by now he is never going to marry her. I find him very suspect and that voice of his would just wear on my nerves. Minnie could do so much better than him. Do you think she stays with him from habit or is she at least using him for his money? And why does he always wear his pants right up under his armpits?

Anyway…maybe I digress…with these Docs I will be taller - and everyone knows when you’re taller you look thinner hence less reason to diet. Miracle shoes. Hallelujah and pass the chocolate cake.

www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book

2 comments:

Ashley Ladd said...

At the moment I would need mile high shoes to look thin. Who would want to marry a mouse anyway?

Glad to hear you're feeling so good.

Sandra Cox said...

Well that pretty much sums it up.
Great shoes by the way.

Funny, Ash.