You know, it serves me right. Just over a week after I wrote about enjoying sexist lyrics, I get my tolerance tested with a Bloodhound Gang song with the following chorus:

"You & me, baby, ain't nothing but mammals
So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel"

Set to a Pet Shop Boys beat and just filthy enough to be an AC/DC song, it maxes out my cheese tolerance. But damn, is it ever catchy.

Kind of buggy right now. This afternoon I felt a tad too lethargic and disaffected to hit the books...so instead I ate ice cream, read scifi & cleaned up the Greek Drama pages that have been lurking around since I started this diary. This is, of course, because I've decided to take Q up on his kind offer of hosting (well, first he offered, then he started setting it up. What can you do in the face of such service?) This is the first time I'll be switching locations and not trying to shake some pesky reader off my tail (i.e. Mom, Ophelia, Alexi...). That means that it'll be the first time I can set up a redirect page. It also means that I feel okay about acknowledging my former journal identity. I can hardly stop squirming with the excitement of it all.

Well. Not really.

But I am looking forward to the move. If nothing else, it gave me an excuse to clean, tweak & consolidate the archives that were constructed in my less-enlightened design days. I get awfully embarrassed sometimes...and even more when I realize that I'm not really that good now. I'm just better than I used to be.

The last couple of days have been somewhat hellish. I knew that I was...well, let's say due for a biological episode when I departed for the city on Tuesday (no, I'm not talking about sex). I thought I had everything under control, even though my supplies were somewhat skimpy. But of course, my body only exists to taunt me. As soon as I stepped away from my comfortably-equipped home, the problems began. When I thought I had it under control...well, let's just say that my body tapped into it's demonic resources and overwhelmed the sanitary defense mechanisms. In the middle of the night, when I could not obtain fresh supplies.

And of course, as soon as I came home, ready now to join the battle in earnest, offensive acts by the enemy dwindled to near zero.

See...

...the problem with menstruating is this: when the tampon fails, you have blood all over your clothes. Not only that, but the blood issues from the main area of elimination...therefore emotionally, it's also a lot like having shit all over your clothes. And the two associations, taken together over a protracted period of time, are almost more than I can bear.

Totally flaked out on my classes this week. I was 20 minutes late for Tuesday's lecture, as my mom & I were having too much fun scoping bridesmaid dresses in Fairweather to pay attention to the time. (It's kind of funny to miss part of Gender Studies class to look at bridesmaid dresses, though). I'm proud to report that I didn't say anything filthy this week. The potty-mouth rehabilitation is proceeding.

Yesterday I spent the entire afternoon on campus, ostensibly doing research. Unfortunately, as soon as 5 o'clock tutorial rolled around, I began to feel nauseous. Not dramatically, but persistently - to the point where I just picked up & went to the Final Bachelor Pad to lie down. I feel so guilty about missing the lectures, too. My record with this class is significantly better than almost every other university course in my life...but I still feel bad about missing "Marxism / Reactions to the Industrial Revolution." Hopefully I'll be able to fake it on the exam.

"The worker becomes alienated...from his...uh...fuck, I'll just do the one on the Thirty Years War."

Something weird is going on with my temp agency. My cruddy 9-hours a week assignment is not continuing...those 3 hours were my only shift. Not like I'm going to clamor for a reinstatement; Christ, what a fucking hole. But when I called to confirm, my agent asked how everything was going. "With what?" I replied, honestly surprised. "You know, with CT." (my last full time assignment) "Uh, I haven't been there for a week and a half." "Oh. Well, no one told me."

Which is very strange indeed, as I told her to her face last Friday. That afternoon she also said that she hadn't heard about the end of the CT assignment, something I attributed to miscommunication within the office. Now I'm starting to wonder.

But at least I know that it's not my incompetence that's kept me from working lately.

Tonight I visited Morgan (just as if I was independent & loose in the City!) There's something immensely comforting in talking about dresses and the wedding for hours. It's also immensely gratifying to feel her approval of every decision we've made so far, from Spike on the bagpipes to the church location. And it's especially nice to communicate excitement and anticipation with nothing more that a few bridal magazines and a couple casual comments. Yea, me.

      I wrote a letter to the world about cleaning house. Blech.