2004-07-06..4:47 p.m.

Inside my sinuses is giant balloon filled with slow crawling slugs, oozing gently through my nasal cavity, and multiplying, such is the pressure inside my freckled nose. My eyes are being licked by the tongues of a thousand kittens. Tiny weaver women hunch and huddle together spinning great cotton swaths of tapestry that are gradually stopping up my ears. An army of subatomic creepers are entwining their pollen-filled polyps around my throat and are building an attack upon my aching breast.

Comparatively, I�m feeling pretty snazzy. I FINALLY got hit up by my period on Saturday (six weeks to the day since my official re-entry into the girls� club) after a whole ten days of spine-crumbling cramps, inexplicable onslaughts of medusa glares, gripping nausea and a cavernous void in my stomach. Ten days of my personality swish split between a mouseketeer and Cruella DeFrankenstein. I didn�t know if I was heading for a clam bake or a kitten run. Most distressing regardless.

I�m not sure if it�s just me, or all girls (most girls that I know seem to agree)(four out of five Girls Known By Me agree), but I get, erm, *aroused* with the most INSANE EASE when I�m PMSing. It�s a little embarrassing. Mostly because the turnover rate between dominating SuperVixen and gagging for it Submissive is entirely out of my control. Perhaps because of this *things* (that�s right *THINGS*) happened over the weekend that I�ve yet to decide my feelings towards. They are mostly good. They involve someone unexpected. They will not be discussed in this forum until such times as I reckon I have a better understanding on them than I do now. But bear in mind. Good things seem to be a rolling.

Has anybody else heard about this? Without wanting to sound too smug about the place of my birth, only in Canada would a murderous rampage be quelled the love of a good dog . Mind you, people who own this wouldn�t really be prone to such things.

I�m spending Saturday with R, which should be interesting if I indeed go to plan and say anything about our eventful weekend, and MORE INTERESTING STILL if he somehow manages NOT to double book himself (popular boy that he is), lets ME double book. Because then HE can get all cross-eyed with self-indignant fury and settle disgruntledly into coming down to the Betsey to watch me smile beatifically at the inane comments, visual groping, and side-sweeping ignorance of people I (on occasion) have to deal with while taking their money at the door (I have a degree people! I�m about to start me second! I�m working door because I�d rather not prostitute myself in order to make a couple of quid on the side! Well done to me, I say! Prostitution would indeed be easier!*) AND he�d be able to meet the MC too. O baby, how�s that for incentive..

*ignore me. It�s the inability to talk without sounding like I�ve got Daffy Duck stuck up my nose.

Until then at least I�ve the Tractenburg Family Slideshow Players to look forward to! Hey, if you�re free they�re playing Thursday July 8 down at the Water Rats, if you happen to be passing you should come on in. It will be a fab fucking night and I�ll have stopped playing Menstral McGorey and will be somewhat pleasant to talk to.

I�m too linky today. Tomorrow I�ll be back to mirth and high-ended giggles. Promise.

****meep