Category Archives: Frustration

Stupid humans


You can’t change history, but you can learn from it. 

Why does it seem like we are moving backwards in time and are on the brink of repeating some of the worst chapters in history? 

God, the human race is its own worst enemy! 

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I can’t sleep


I want nothing more than to drift off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. That would be absolutely heaven! 

I can’t, though. My head is full of thoughts. Some quite troubling, others just buzzing. 

Oh, I just want peace! 


Scraped shin (with pic)


What’s summer without a scraped shin?

I’m ready to do drastic things to my leg now. It’s been throbbing and stinging relentlessly for the past four hours. I fell asleep, but an sms woke me up and I’m absolutely and utterly unable to sleep. Even with painkillers! 

How do I give my shin a hot saline bath without filling a tub (which I don’t have)?

I want to sleep! And grow my skin back quickly without stupid bacteria messing up the process. 

Oh, I think the painkillers are kicking in! 

Quite fresh and not hurt hinges nearly as much as today!


New level of stupidity


Usually, I’m baffled by other people’s stupidity. 

This time, it’s my own. 

I don’t fear many things in life, and not all the things I fear are worth being afraid of. However, I have an innate scepticism towards apiaceae in general and  water hemlock in particular.

The trouble is to tell the different species apart. The worst is that a mistake might kill you. I’m not a great philosopher, and I would prefer not to die by hemlock, thank you. 

Anyway, I have been trying to be a righ little nosey botanist these past few weeks. I’ve discovered quite a few plants in the overgrown parts of my garden, and on my way home from work. This lead me to wanting to tell those apiaceas apart. After all, it might come in handy. So on my way home from work, I picked at least five different specimens to look at when I came home. And I did. A bit with gloves, a bit without.

As I’ve mentioned, water hemlock is one of my greatest fears. The newspapers were full of warnings when I grew up, and I’ve been terrified of eating something I accidently thought was something edible, just to discover I was beyond help a couple of hours later. So I never ate plants I didn’t know (after mum made three-year-old me purge the laburnum I was happily gnawing on. )

And late last night I put my finger in my mouth and started to clean the nail with my teeth. It had an unusual taste, and I spat it out immediately. The next three hours I spent spitting and gurgling (not swallowing once, mind you), waking my brother to keep an eye on me in case I started to convulse  (poor fellow!) And in general work myself up to a mild panic. 

Of course nothing happened. I went through the samples once more, and I’m positive there was no water hemlock there. Or hemlock.

Being such a whimp, and a clumsy and careless one at that, I really should keep my hands off plants I don’t know. At least unless I wear gloves at all times while handling them. And I should keep my fingers out of my mouth. Gran always told me my hands should stay out of my face. Maybe she was right. Not because of pimples, but because maybe I can’t be trusted with my own health. 

Stupid Emu!


Fuck you!


Sometimes I just leer at the mirror and mumble *fuck you*
And the mirror hurls back “As if!”


I don’t want to


I really don’t. Sometimes it’s best to be alone. And it’s really crappy when you are not allowed to be alone. 


An open fan-rant – or something like that


Okay, I’ve said it before, but maybe not clearly enough;
I’m an #EvilRegal, and Regina is Queen!

Now, that’s out of the way.

For the first three seasons of Once Upon a Time, I didn’t snoop around tumblr, twitter and other sites where fans gather and adore their ships, bash their anti-whatevers and just hang around chatting. I was happily living in my bubble where Regina was the centre of attention, and all the action, the stories and, you know, everything, should be about her.

I was oblivious to the fact that anybody would find the Charmings and Emma even remotely interesting or worth casting a second glance at. I find them so utterly annoying and self-righteous that I want to roll my eyes and go away.

Why?  When I whined about my favourites being repeatedly beaten and ripped of happiness to my mother, she just patted me on the head (through the phone) and said, that’s life for those who root for Sylvester instead of Pip, or Wild E. Coyote instead of Roadrunner. I’m doomed.

I’ve tried to find redeeming qualities in Snow, Emma and Charming. I find a few. Most in Snow. And yet, they all annoy me to no end after a couple of episodes – or less.

However, I don’t really hate any of the characters. Not with an “I’m totally repulsed”-ire. I just can’t be bothered. That’s how I feel about ships I don’t board too. They might sail alongside mine, or sink behind, or fly up in the sky. That’s not my ship, and I’ll keep swabbing the decks on mine, minding my own business.

Maybe I’m just to lazy. At the moment my mind is too preoccupied with the heartbreak and total injustice of the way they treated Robin.

I’m going back to my fluffy fan-cave now.


Instant green


Recipe for green disaster:
* One green, new feather boa (cheap)
* One dancer, preferably wearing a white leotard under a black dress

Let the dancer warm up and work up an even layer of sweat. Put the boa around the neck of the dancer and repeat the routine over and over for 45 minutes. Be sure to use a dancer incapable of keeping hands away from sweaty forehead, nose, hair etc. Let said dancer take off the black dress with green hands, and laugh your head off as she is trying to keep the leotard white.

Result:
Green face, neck (front and back) green straps on leotard, green fingers, green inside of arms, and just for fun; green finger prints on boobs.

There you go. Green disaster!

(wonder if the leotard is as easy to clean as I am!?)


Still not happy


image

I don’t want to be cranky and snappy, but I am. Deal with it! At least my knee is photogenic.


*Grumble*


One of the perks of being a grown ass woman (such as myself), is that you can do whatever you want.

That is, until your mother comes along and disapproves.

I’m not happy!


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