Frailty, thy name is woman, but surely you can forage for a Mint Club?

Holy shit my chi is all wrong this week and there’s heehaw I seem to be able to do about it. Bloody hormones flippetyflopping about all over the bloody place. I know my attitude’s all wrong and I should be “choosing a positive attitude” or some such shite but I’ve a face like a slapped arse and nothing – not even the hypothetical promise of a lifetime supply of deep fried things (if such a wonderful gift were ever to be forthcoming) – could turn my frown upside down. There’s no reason for it so I’ll just have to suck it up until it passes, which it undoubtedly will, and we can all be thankful for that, can we not?

You know your day is going to be irksome when you’ve had your knickers off before 9am and not in a good way. It’s really all downhill from there, innit? You’re left with nowhere to go except Crapmoodville via Shittown. 

To add insult to early morning bare arsed injury (figuratively speaking – that’s not why my knickers were off early doors – I didn’t sustain an injury by sitting on a cold dyke or similar) (I’m aware I’m making no sense. Feel free to stop reading) I’m caught in a hellish loop of jerky buffery adverts on Sky Go trying to watch episode 3 of Game of Thrones, having missed How Scotland Works on BBC2 due to dicking around like a damn fool. This is exactly what my personal hell would be like. Jerky buffery adverts on a loop when you just want to watch some soft porn (Thrones; not How Scotland Works, heaven forfend). I’ve given up. I’m considering a Mint Club which is lurking seductively in the fridge but I’ve no energy to get from here to there. Maybe I’m sickening for something if I can’t even forage for a Mint Club. 

I did make a grown up tea tonight so that’s an achievement compared to last night’s smorgasbord of Heinz Tomato Soup and a couple of cold sausages eaten standing up. 

Right. I’m boring MYSELF rigid writing this so I can’t even start to imagine your rigidity at having to read this tripe. 

Oh I’m all about the self-loathing tonight. 

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