Tuesday, November 29, 2011

DSC_2617 - The Eyebrow of Ennui (62/366)[Via QI] MEUPAREUNIA n. Sexual activity enjoyed by only one of the participants.

Is it right that I respond to that concept with "oh, I know that"? That and wondering if dedecoambula is actually a word.

One day my prince will come (except that's not really the... moving on).

Anyway, so the title of this post was going to be "goodbye cruel world".

Not in the offing oneself sense (and no, in answer to that seemingly much repeated question, I have not "actively attempted to kill [myself] or anyone else". I'm not sure how one passively does this), but instead perhaps, hopefully, turning off the cruel. Although really it's more rendering myself incapable of perceiving it. That and be able to produce breast milk (ooh, recorded side effects are fun).

So yes, someone has finally noticed that perhaps I'm not the jolliest fellow that ev' there was, and apparently they can do things about that now.

So in a plot twist as shocking and unsignposted as the gymnastics teacher with the alarm clock (well, from the author's perspective), I'm off to maraud the marvels of modern medicine. Except apparently it often causes side effects remarkably like the symptoms it's meant to treat. That and turns some people's brains off.

This could be fun (but I might not notice).


PS. 'Tis done. The packaging is annoying, because today is Tuesday but the end one is Monday. This is going to irritate me for at least a fortnight (when I can start a new strip and hold the spare Monday until the end). And about an hour after taking it something's kicked in suddenly. It just went. The light seems lighter but more diffuse and my body seems to have split into my oddly light shoulders and my warm, heavy, churning gut (the churning started about ten minutes after swallowing). The white balance of the screen keeps cycling too.

PPS. Oh, it feels like I'm a bit drunk; the world won't quite sit still and my limbs have gone all gangly (or ganglier). That and I keep getting fleeting, intense bursts of tastes and smells (chalky hospitals, dark nicotine). And I didn't notice I types 'limbs' with an n, whereas usually I'd feel there was something wrong without knowing what. I think I should probably just go to bed. Night, John-boy.

Oooh, baggage! Baggage is sexy. And don't even get me started on breast milk fetishists. No - really, don't.

Hope they have the desired effect. And if they don't, ditch 'em pronto.
Who are you calling baggage?

No breast milk yet, just sudden bouts of ravenousness.
Well if you're hungry, breast milk may come in handy, so fingers crossed!
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