mynewplace

I am so fucking bored.  And so fucking sick of feeling this way.  Fucking sick of my house, fucking sick of my job, fucking sick of my hurting foot and the sharp pains in my ankle and driving Brent's car which means driving back and forth too much and sick of having car trouble even though it's only been a few days.  Run on sentence, anyone?  Thank you. 

My mind is random and do you know why? Well I'll tell you why.  Because I'm fucking OVULATING.  Yes, people.  The damned eggs have found their way past the Essure thingys and are spreading their special brand of joy throughout my life.  I know that it can take up to 12 weeks for the Essure to completely take effect, but talk about pissed.  I don't WANT to ovulate. That makes me want to have a baby, and I don't want to want that.  See how fucked up my brain is?  

I have two new-to-me Coach purses, a new pair of shoes I can't wear, and a new sweater for Scarlett.  I am through with ebay I think, although I have two more items that will be shipped once I pay for them.  I am going to take pictures of the bag Leigh wants to sell and post it on ebay for her, along with some other things when she sends me the pictures.  Notice I didn't say IF she sends me the pictures, because I know she will.  

Okay, I'm too worried about getting caught blogging. So I've gotta go.  

D'ya ever feel like you're waiting for something?  I do.  Almost every month I get this feeling during PMS that I'm waiting for my life to start.  Here's how it feels.  Say to yourself "Just a few more months, and then..."  You feel that anticipation that starts to swell?  That's the beginning of it, but it's exacerbated because I have no ENDING to that sentence.  I've been waiting for this "whatever" for years upon years.  

Along that same vein, I had this thought a couple days ago:  "How much longer am I going to have to buy these damned groceries?"  The frustration was overwhelming, it almost had me in tears.  Now I look back and of course have to say "What the fuck?" Because groceries? Um. Hello? All your life??   Damn. 

But it's like that. Almost EVERY SINGLE FUCKING MONTH.   Waiting for some unidentifiable something that has been "on it's way" since I was, I dunno, maybe 12? Or 17?  Try and imagine the level of frustration that's built up inside me.  Go ahead.  Try. 

Nope.  Try harder. 

Oh forget it.  I'm waiting for my "ship" to come in, at a port that's been paved over for 15 years. 

Be your own damn valentine.

So, I'm doing taxes, and I'm doing laundry, then I disappear from the face of the earth. I mean, Leigh heard from me a bit, but as far as you all know, boom - I'm gone. heh

I'm going to try and have a really good week with Scarlett. We're off to a good start, no screaming on either of our parts, no temper, and that's the way it works most weeks of the month. So I have no reason to think this won't be a good week.

I'm going to try and pick up my prescriptions, and I hope I have a little left to pay a bill after. But I bet I won't. That's okay, I'll live, with or without cable.

My back is hurting in my kidney area, which likely means PMS is picking up speed, and I'll be on the downhill run this week. Bet it interferes with my weekend. I'd like to watch the Superbowl with Brent, but I don't know where he's gonna watch, and the timing of the game conflicts heavily with the schedule I follow on Sunday evenings, picking up Scarlett and taking her home to prepare for school the next day. Chances are good that I won't be watching football. Such is life.

Brent nudged me hard last night. You see, he has certain skills that are legendary, and not only within his own mind. But I don't mention them much here, or to anyone that I know, and that's mostly because I'm a jealous possessive harridan. It's MINE Itellyou! MINE! Well, he's been bragging on me to his friends, and he needs me to return the favor. Granted, if I ever MET any of his friends, my face would likely burst into flames because as all of you know, I am a filthy dirty girl.

F.I.L.T.H.Y.

I might not be kinky, but I'm dirty enough for two. So he said last night that he wanted me to write what had just transpired between us, and "tell them how fantastic I am. Tell Them. And then I want to read it, because the way you write, I know it'll make me hard." So I did. I wrote it all down, and I posted it over in bbw_literotica. I'm going to post it here, too, later tonight, because there's some preliminary information I want to include here on my journal. I'll probably lock it, since I don't know who reads this journal any more. And I think I'm going to put it in an email over at my photo group, too - those guys have an insatiable sexual curiosity.

And that's all the news that's fit to print right now, folks. I'm so tired.