The love of my life.

Luna.

She's currently sleeping on my foot.

She just peeked open one eyelid, streched out her paw, and tangled her claws into my sock.

I'm not allowed to go anywhere.

Who would argue with that?

Want.

One Eyed Octopus on Wheels by PearsonMaron

Friendly Narwhal Laptop Decal by beepart

Chicken Meat Chart Pillow by GoBuggyGo

Cute-thulhu by Jellibat

Octopus Sterling Silver Oxidized Necklace by Irisjewelrydesign

So... who wants to bank roll me?

Nerves.

Two years ago when I had surgery, I wasn't nervous.
I wasn't afraid.
I wasn't even bothered by it really.
I mean, I hate those stupid open-backed hospital gowns that really only serve to titillate any pervy members of the hospital staff that happen to be wandering around when you're trying to find a bathroom and I was a bit angry about having to wear one, but, other than that, I was the epitome of cool when they put me under. Even the anaesthesiologist seemed a bit thrown by the fact that I was so cavalier about the whole thing. He kept giving my Father the "Your daughter is either crazy-brave or on drugs" look in between sticking a needle in my hand. Go figure.

I'm nervous now though.
I'm nervous about the stupid test I have to have later today.
I'm nervous about the results.
I'm nervous that, because I happen to be benched right now when it comes to sex, that I'm suddenly going to be way less appealing.*
I'm nervous that this isn't going to be a quick fix.
I'm nervous as hell and, frankly, I wish I could have just played hookie with Kate all day instead of having to face real life.

Tonight is going to suck and tomorrow is going to be really interesting.








*As a side note on this point, because I know I'm going to get guff for it, I realize that any guy who only wants to have sex with me isn't worth my time anyway. I realize that. I will punch anyone who decides to go all Femi-nazi on me because they think I'm niave and/or dillusional. Girl power is great and all, but honestly all it really serves to do most of the time is cover up our larger insecurities about the way men view us so cool it with that shit for a second, okay? Here's the thing - at this current juncture, I don't think I'm ready for the revelation that a guy I might want only wants me for sex. I don't think I have the capacity to be let down by that right now, and this entire "Hey you can't have sex because your uterus is on strike" thing is sort of pushing that issue to the forefront and forcing me to deal with it. I'm cranky about it and, obviously, nervous. If you still feel the need to lecture me, you've been warned, and I have a mean right hook.

A random string of thoughts and cuteness.

Okay. How cute are these shoes?I just bought these today from TOMS shoes - you know, that awesome organization that makes adorable hipster shoes and, when you purchase a pair, they send a pair to a child in need (hopefully a pair with glitter) which makes you feel super about your life and the fact that you don't do anything else to give back to the less fortunate because you're too busy with Mason Gross to remember that other people even exist?
I may have gone off topic there....
Anyway! You should all go buy a pair of TOMS shoes because they're fabulous and it's all for a good cause.

Also, and this is totally unrelated, why are all the awesomely creepily cute illustrations that I may possibly want to use as inspiration for a future monster crochet project from Japanese books that are impossible to get a hold of?! I was browsing through the blog Pink Tentacle (which is awesome, by the way) and these fantastic illustrations kept popping up like this one of a japanese sea monster (Yeah, that's a sea monster. I know, it's adorable. And googlie-eyed. Try not to giggle.)

Or this one of the anatomy of a "Black hair cutter" a beastie that supposedly sneaks up on women in dark alleys and cuts off their hair. (Seriously. That's their monster. Seriously.)I was looking to purchase the books that these pictures came from only to find that I can only buy them in Japanese.... and only if I use yen. It made me want to punch babies. For now, I'm just going to have to use what I have and deal with it. God, that is so not like me.

Speaking of dealing with what I have... Well, I'm simply not going to do that with my (purely hypothetical) desserts. What I have sucks. SUCKS. I've decided I hate pie. Even more so now that I'm just generally pissed off about life and the fact that my body is defective. Also, I'm starting to hate cake too. The whole "now that I'm sick, life seems too short, etc., etc..." line really is true. Life is too short for me to chase around or even care about some cake that doesn't seem to care about me.
I'm tired.
I'm in pain.
I'm going to bury myself in my yarn and just be done with it.
Done with desserts until what I want stops throwing it's frosting around to other patrons like it's going stale and what I don't want gets purchased by someone else.
It'll all sort itself out.
In the meantime, I have glittery shoes on the way.

Something happier.

And I'm not talking about me..


How is this not the coolest thing on Etsy right now?!imadeyouabeard has the cutest shop ever. I. want. everything.

It's inspired me to try to crochet those moustaches I've been meaning to attempt for some time now.
You know.. right after I start (and finish) my Halloween costume, finish my unicorn, finish the half-started embroidery pieces lying around my life, make a purple sequined cod piece (oh no, I'm not kidding), and do all the work I'm actually going to get graded on.

They better not have to cut anything out of me, because I simply don't have the time for it. So there.

Things I learned today.

1. My body is defective.
Like seriously defective. Apparently it now needs a tune-up every two years just so it can fucking function. My accupuncture appointment tonight turned into a roundtable discussion between myself, my accupuncturist, and my gynocologist about whether I was going to have to go under the knife again or if I just have a bad hormonal imbalance. Oh yes. It was super relaxing. Either way I have to go for another ultrasound (and not the fun kind from Juno), do another spit test, and go back for another appointment. Did I mention that they probably won't come to some kind of concensus for at least another two weeks and I'm going to be in pain that entire time? It's super great to be me right now.

2. I don't care about cake or pie.
I told myself I was never going to chase a (hypothetical) dessert around ever again... and I broke that promise. It was a mistake. Now I have real problems and I couldn't care less about a couple of pastries that just see me as a quick piece of ass. If you want me, really want me, delicious sweet lickable sugary confections, you know where to find me.

3. I have the most amazing friends on the planet.
People say that all the time, but for me, it's really true. I'm an asshole and I have someone to go out to lunch with every week who adores me, a friend who's willing to get up at like 6am to see me tomorrow, and a bunch of people I know I can count on for hugs and support...
And I know I'm going to need it. Especially now.

I know what my ideal outcome for this situation would be..
Picture it:
[WARNING! Uber-sentimental ramblings of a sick person to follow. Not for those with weak stomachs.]
My seemingly unattainable cake and I waltzing through the streets of New York City. Him, actually interested in more than just sleeping with me and me not doubled over in pain, feeling lightheaded or nauseous, or otherwise ill. He will want to hold my hand, I won't bite his head off when he tries. He'll realize I'm what he always needed and let me in and I won't run like a frightened school girl when he does. We'll have fun, more fun than I've ever had with a guy. I'll be myself, really myself, and he'll like it. And when it's all over, and he wakes up and realizes he's never going to find anyone better than me, he'll call. And he won't want to hang up.
[End of sentimental nonsense.]

But that's not going to happen.

The reality is I have feelings for a guy who is never going to want any of that, and I don't even have the capacity to care about that fact. All I can do is brave these tests and try to sleep at night with the thought of another surgery-recovery period looming just beyond the edges of my dreams.

It's time to put my big girl pants on again.
Damn.

Howl.

"Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers;
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters.
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.
If you could only see
The beast you've made of me
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free
The saints can't help me now
The ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground."

Perhaps this isn't the best day to be blogging with my head pounding and a drink in my hand, but, with that said, I have a confession to make.

I have a terrible habit of being able to figure out what I want very, very quickly. The amount of time it takes for me to be able to admit that "want" to myself varies, but I always know. Somewhere, in the back of my incredibly fucked up mind, I always know. And when this whole (hypothetical) cake vs. pie mess started, I knew what I wanted immediately.

And today, I finally admitted it to myself.

Now, the trick is to let it come to me.... and resist the urge to hunt it down.