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Makes Sense...

Issue Date: Thursday, Apr. 03, 2003

I am highly sensitive today and have been for the past few days. Not in an emotional way, I just feel like my senses are being bombarded by different stimuli.

This is the most invasive sense for me. I have a very acute sense of smell and can usually separate aromas/odors out. Yesterday afternoon was hell on my nose. I was driving home from work and the day was beautiful. Warm, windy, sparse clouds in the sky and I drove with my windows down to enjoy the day. My hair is long and I was beaten about the head and shoulders by the curly mess until I could restrain it with furry love-cuffs and a ball gag. It resisted slightly then bowed to my wishes reverently whispering, “As you wish, Mistress”. Whoops, ok, I’ll try to stay on the same subject. As I pulled up to a red light just east of the sprawling countryside I drive through, I was assaulted by this… Odor. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good. It smelled like an unbalanced mix between Six Flags (over Texas) in 102-degree heat. You know… afro-sheen, doobage, hot asphalt, gas fumes, funnel cake and that cloyingly sick/sweet smell of melting Orange Push Ups (Scroll down). Go ahead, try and conjure that one up. Blech. I drove 2 miles and got caught by a train passing. This vantage point allowed me to be in the direct wafting of air from Clements Nut Company, a nut company that roasts yummy smelling things all day. Funny enough, the nut roasting smells more like chicken nuggets.

Would someone PLEASE tell me what the deal is with that hydrocephalic Calvin sticker peeing on everything!? I mean really. Has our society really become that abrasive as to proudly display on the back windows of our automobiles a picture of a smart-ass six-year-old peeing on everything from Darwin to any and every make of truck? That little creepy cartoon kid needs a spanking and to be shown where the bathroom is. Searching for that link I ran across a diary of some redneck touting the prowess of his jeep in the category of Mudding. He said that he had one of those stickers with the subject being pee’d on was Chevy. He got stuck. Wouldn’t you know it? The only person to come along and offer help was a person driving a, yep, a Chevy. Of course the Chevy owner offered to help him if he removed the sticker. Such small justice. I just don’t understand the nature of these people. Do they think it is humorous? Or is it just a silent and soggy statement against whatever riles their angst?

I listen to several radio stations on the way to and from work each day, I have over an hour to listen, each way. My choice ranges from alternative music to a country station. Over the past few weeks this 3 man band called The Fags has been playing on the alternative station. They have visited the station and have had their egos stroked by the afternoon drive-time disc jockey. I don’t get it. They have this song that they are selling as a hit. The song is called “Ms. Take”. Ha ha ha, your witty use of the English language humors me. *eyeroll* Good Lord. Have you guys heard this song? I swear, it sounds like a high school garage band with blown amps. The lead singer must have been a cat giving birth to a watermelon in another life. Not to rain on their parade, but Shit! Let it go! You guys suck! Coasting on your name's shock value is all you will ever do. Ya’ll watch these guys will be all over the radio, nation wide in like 3 months. Then I will have to deafen myself with sharpened pencils.

For the past few days I have been a raging bag (mmm sexy) of hormones. [Bless Mister’s heart.] My insides feel overly hot and achy which makes my outsides feel clammy and uncomfortable. I can’t sleep very well (no doubt with dreams like these), my fingertips feel rough, my cuticles are dry, my eyes feel gritty and clothing overloads my sense of touch. I found something sticky on my desk and the texture made me cringe. I can’t stand the “soft grip” part of my favorite pen and have removed the ink from the barrel so I don’t have to touch it. All in all my fingerprints feel huge and I don’t like stuff touching me (other than Mister of course).

Why is it that when your senses are on overload, nothing tastes good? I would figure that it would just be the opposite. Senses overload, everything tastes good! No such luck. Bummer. I just went to the donut shop around the corner and got some donut holes. Normally there is nothing I love more than deep fried, sugarcoated carbs. But today, ick. They tasted like sawdust. Last night, Mister and I had some yummy rare roast beast (beef) sandwiches. Normally I love roast beast. Last night, it was dry and rubbery. I haven’t even enjoyed my morning commute smoke. I smoked it out of habit this morning, but I was just annoyed by the tongue tingle and the flurries (little ashes) that got on my sleeve.

Diagnosis: I need a few mental health days.

Wonderful News!
One of my bestest girlfriends in the world (Stacey the Possum Slayer!) called me this morning at 8:15. She had taken a pregnancy test and had 2 lines; one of them was a fainter color. She was squealing and hyper and happy, but didn’t want to bank on it until she got the test done professionally. She just called me from the doctor… Screaming! She’s Pregnant! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Due date of December 11th. I can’t think of two nicer people to bring a child into the world. I called Mister, he was very happy for the Slayer of Possums and her Nutria! Killing hubby. He also said something that made everything right with the world. Senses overload or not. He said, “I can’t wait until it’s our turn to be pregnant.”

*sigh of happiness*

Oh yeah…

What Star Wars character was really a pirate?
AAAAAAAAAARrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-2 D2.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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