Windi, it IS hard. I know. And people can be so vicious to themselves; I have 20 years of journals filled with BID self-loathing and the most hateful language toward myself, nothing I EVER would have tolerated coming out of someone else's mouth at me.

It didn't take overnight to conquer, either, and it still raises its ugly head, but I've managed to Cee-Lo it most of the time; yanno, "So fuck you, and, uh, fuck her too!" to the world and those thoughts.

I would love to go back to school and pick up some History and non-potential-career stuff. Just indulge in learning.

Connie, I just discovered iTunes U. How did I not know about this before? Tons of free stuff to learn.

Windi, it IS hard. I know. And people can be so vicious to themselves

Hey, yeah. I am laughing gleefully at the thought of telling the BIDs to go fuck themselves.

Also, how hard is it to replace a bathroom sink faucet?

Don't know about shower curtains, omnis, but my sister replaced three bathroom sink faucets (hers and mine) by herself and said it was easy. You just have to make sure the new faucets will fit the holes in the sink (which are supposed to be industry-standard, but I'd measure anyway).

Today I am battling my BID demons by wearing a sleeveless shirt. Letting my arms hang out. Fuck you, BIDs.

BIDs suck. I like Strix's answer to them. I'm sure we can come up with an appropriate filk to Cee-Lo. Not me, though! I'm no good at that stuff at all.

{{Karl}} Good to see you, dude. I'm happy to hold virtual hands with you, any time.

Today I am battling my BID demons by wearing a sleeveless shirt. Letting my arms hang out. Fuck you, BIDs.

It was amazingly liberating last year when I decided that tank tops were a valid part of my summer wardrobe. This year I'm only wearing sleeves at work--but it's generally a sleeved shirt open over a tank top of a contrasting color. As soon as I hit the out of doors after work, that top shirt comes off. Depending on the bra, I'd be tempted to take the tank top off as well, but certain skin would not be happy exposed to the sun.

So, if I were to have some leftover stuff from my accident, let's say it rhymes with schmexeril, and I were to want to mail that somewhere, oh, for example, New Orleans, what would be the best way to do that?

Well, I've got some for now. sj might be in greater need. But if she doesn't want them, I will gladly accept your tin of Altoids/stuffed animal/random tea.

We're kind of rained out for the day - the weather might be letting up, but it turns out that R made an appt for the kittens this afternoon but can't take them, so that works out.

I hear 'em telling me that I just can't wear that
So I'm like, "Fuck you."
These demons talking in my ear, saying I'm too fat
And I'm like "Fuck you."

They say "If you were thinner, you'd be a winner!"
Well, ain't that some shit. (Ain't that some shit)
These demons won't go away, but I won't let them hold sway
So I'm like, "FUCK YOU."

I could go on. And might.

Smonster, if that is your song, yeah you should make it a whole song. (Not that it could not as it stands, but if you think you come up with more verses great. Then get someone to write music and perform it.)

Well, I've got some for now. sj might be in greater need. But if she doesn't want them, I will gladly accept your tin of Altoids/stuffed animal/random tea.

No thanks. I don't take them, and I am lucky enough to have excellent prescription coverage (thanks to the Clinton administration deciding that agent orange was responsible for spina bifida and that the American government should do something about that) if I decide to go that way. Last night was just a bad night and I was whiny.

Smonster, if that is your song, yeah you should make it a whole song.

It's me filking "Fuck You." Doesn't scan perfectly, but hey.

Okay, cool, sj.

Speaking of pain, I need to go do that excruciating stretch Steph linked before. Who can I punch in the face for this whole hormonal "loose joints, tight muscles" thing? God? Darwin? Rick Scott (just cuz)?

his whole hormonal "loose joints, tight muscles" thing?

Oh, god, when it feels like someone is taking the Jaws of Life to my hipbones . . .