Living Out Loud...

...can wind my balls.†

Blogging is much harder when you have a hundred cool things to blog and you can't blog them because Christmas is coming and that person for whom you're knitting the cashmere vibrator cosy% reads or may read your blog so you can't blow^ the whole thing by showing your goodies^ right on the Innernets.

[SUMMARY: Victim of the fish bowl.]

Blogging is also much harder when you want to vent, to bitch, to snark and snipe and you know people who read the blog will take it badly.‡

I knew this day would come.

I just erased two hours' worth of writing$ because I can't adequately explain my feelings without the very probable possibility of pissing someone off I don't actually want to piss off.

[SUMMARY: Victim of... well, still a victim of the fish bowl.]

I can't tell you how badly I don't want to go to Thanksgiving with my extended family.

Tani, eBeth, Brother... this has NOTHING to do with any of you.

I tried my best to be in Houston for Thanksgiving.§

That isn't going to happen.

I also didn't get laid last night,¶ so I'm feeling a little grumpy.#

And sleepy.

And stuffy.

And fat.

And spotty.

And hungry.

And meh.

[SUMMARY: Dwarves. All seven of 'em.]

And maybe not fit for human consumption.

[SUMMARY: Stating the obvious.]

I bet tomorrow will be better.

Not to go all Pollyanna†† on you, but there may be pictures of yarn and we all know that makes everything better.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Note the clever juxtaposition of knitting terminology with dirty thinking.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I am *so* twelve.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): This is purely hypothetical. The actual vibrator cosy is merino/silk. *rimshot* I'm twelve and I think I'm funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And by "you," I mean "me."

$FOOTNOTE (moneyed): You're welcome. Seriously. You have enough to think about in your own world without hearing my view on pies and competitive cell phoning.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which may give you some gauge on how desperate I am for an excuse. No, thank you for asking, but I don't believe I can back out of family Thanksgiving without a damned good excuse.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Anticipation, thou art a bitch.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And there's ample reason NOT to be grumpy, since Soldier Boy did call to tell me he brought me a present. You may not want to speculate too wildly on what a present from Iraq might look like. Then again, it's you... go ahead and speculate. Knock yourself out.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Not the cool east/west needles-of-doom type, either. The delusionally peppy and optimistic Hayley Mills movie type.