ndc;lncwoqvknw vdjvnda'vkldnv lvns;cv na
Aug. 22nd, 2009 09:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amand_r1. Amand-r's current internal soundtrack
2. There's a Torchwood/Doctor Who porn battle going on at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cyus's this weekend. The themes for the month are historical sex, tight spaces, and real!sex (which I call fail!sex). :D Go forth and porntificate. At the least read the yummy offerings and comment!
3. I'll be cleaning my house for the next week. Feel free to email me pictures of how fucking spotless I think all of your places are. I just naturally assume that you are all better, cleaner, prettier and better educated people than I am. It makes me want to clean the bathroom sink. It's a thing. Later I might cook something. Probably not.
4. Not thirty seconds after I woke this morning, my feet started to itch, on the ankles and the tops. I scratched for a while and then thought better of it, because that's just going to skin my feet, so I sat on the edge of the bathtub and washed them with soap and cold water, and that poof thing. And it didn't help all that much, and when I looked at them: hives. Everywhere. So I dried them off and slathered when with a hydrocortisone that is completely inappropriate for this thing and the kidlet and I went downstairs for breakfast.
Within thirty seconds of sitting down I had an itch on the back of my thigh and I scratched it absently. Then more and more, and then I realised that both my legs itched insanely. I went back upstairs, stripped down and started washing with cold water and the poof. The backs of my thighs are now covered in hives where I guarantee they hadn't been thirty seconds before that first itch.
The only thing I can think is that it's stress, which is laughable because I am a stay-at-home mom with no financial troubles. So in an effort to de-stress, I'mma let some things go. Some of those are online things, and for that, people who are about to be pissed at me, I am sorry. But I just can't sit here weeping and ripping my skin off.
Oh my god. It's intense. Fuck. It better not hit my arms. MY SCALP TINGLES. Fuck. I wish I was exaggerating this. I cannot sit still.
2. There's a Torchwood/Doctor Who porn battle going on at
cyus's this weekend. The themes for the month are historical sex, tight spaces, and real!sex (which I call fail!sex). :D Go forth and porntificate. At the least read the yummy offerings and comment!3. I'll be cleaning my house for the next week. Feel free to email me pictures of how fucking spotless I think all of your places are. I just naturally assume that you are all better, cleaner, prettier and better educated people than I am. It makes me want to clean the bathroom sink. It's a thing. Later I might cook something. Probably not.
4. Not thirty seconds after I woke this morning, my feet started to itch, on the ankles and the tops. I scratched for a while and then thought better of it, because that's just going to skin my feet, so I sat on the edge of the bathtub and washed them with soap and cold water, and that poof thing. And it didn't help all that much, and when I looked at them: hives. Everywhere. So I dried them off and slathered when with a hydrocortisone that is completely inappropriate for this thing and the kidlet and I went downstairs for breakfast.
Within thirty seconds of sitting down I had an itch on the back of my thigh and I scratched it absently. Then more and more, and then I realised that both my legs itched insanely. I went back upstairs, stripped down and started washing with cold water and the poof. The backs of my thighs are now covered in hives where I guarantee they hadn't been thirty seconds before that first itch.
The only thing I can think is that it's stress, which is laughable because I am a stay-at-home mom with no financial troubles. So in an effort to de-stress, I'mma let some things go. Some of those are online things, and for that, people who are about to be pissed at me, I am sorry. But I just can't sit here weeping and ripping my skin off.
Oh my god. It's intense. Fuck. It better not hit my arms. MY SCALP TINGLES. Fuck. I wish I was exaggerating this. I cannot sit still.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 03:20 pm (UTC)Shot, like Tequila? Because I could get down with that.