07.Mar.2001
morose.
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HomeBest one step pregnancy test
I do these things to torture myself; it's as a punishment to spiritual disobedience. I am not able to have children due to suffering polycystic ovarian syndrome, and a brief history of ovarian cancer. These things excite me, however. It's the perverted satisfaction that comes with purchasing a pregnancy test.
At this moment, I am waiting for my bladder to fill.
The irony of life leaves me baffled, wondering why so many angsty young teenaged frills who don't want to conceive, do conceive, and also wondering why those who want to conceive can't conceive. I already worked out a deal with one of my friends, and also, a deal with God. God, get some mother juice pumping through the Fallopian tubes, and this sweet-tart will give up smoking.
Today was interesting to say the least.
It is 8:30 in the morning and I haven't yet gone to bed.
Last night's despondency reigned supreme, and I decided it be best to stay away from the diary's javascript 'done!' button.
I somehow managed to convince my brother to tread into the remains of our childhood home, and abscond with the American flag that was laid out over our Poppy's silver-grey coffin, then neatly folded into an obtuse triangle.
He will also be taking the triangular music box table from Fra fra france.
These are the only memories I wish to keep from a rather normal abnormal child-hood.
Joe and I also bickered, violently, over his frivolity in dealing with last year's taxes. He seems to shit off responsibility when I am around. I claimed it didn't impress me. I further reprimanded him from shrugging off his responsibilities. He, wounded, flicked me in the eye.
We have matured.
Having wrestled with the same old CSS/table scrips I slosh on every random website, I decided my web graphic existence was trivial.
Then I managed to awaken Joe at 4 in the morning to drive me to Superior, WI so I could smoke inside a restaurant while inhaling vast quantities of starch.
Our waiter was adorable and only had one arm. He ran to and fro to ease my Dr. Pepper cravings. I decided I wanted to take him home. He pleaded that we come back tomorrow morning, because I'm sure he sensed the cuteness pulsating from my inward girly cells.
Then we proceeded to Cub Foods at around 6, and I bought as many maternal dairy slash bakery products as possible.
It was then that I decided to purchase the generic home pregnancy test.
I do it for kicks.
I do it for madness.
At the check-out counter while I scribbled in the dollar amount in our checkbook, the cashier started up a passionate discussion over cookies, and our diabetic quandaries came spilling forth. We both confessed to being frequent sinners of the sugar academy.
She was a delightful thing at 7:30 in the morning. She made me crave a hug. It was very odd.
Upon returning home I locked myself in the bathroom to read up on Shar Pei puppies, while Rinoa Soybean whimpered at the door. I only look at the pictures. Soy is more of a wrinkled coffee bean, with floppy Lab ears and a fanciful Lab tail.
I am glad we decided to keep her after all.
My brother bought a book embosser that stamped: 'From Dave's Library' in memory of Poppy, who had bestowed upon us the gift of speech and the gift of wit.
It made my heart swell.
He then proceeded to impart how much he loved me, and was logging offline to retire to sleep. It didn't hit me until after he logged off that I started to miss Poppy, even though it has been close to 5 years since his death.
My birthday is coming soon.
It seems like yesterday I was cutting myself up to horrid goth/industrial music.
My how time ... repulsively drags on.
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time & machine