I don't know what that means, but it sounds tremendously unpleasant. I should like to be tremendously unpleasant for a bit, just because I have a lot of unspecified general rage built up from psychic trash garnered from my empathic abilities which seem to distill all the holiday-and-relative-related-stress into a lovely little focused storm cloud of Ick that hovers over my head and generally keeps me in one of my little grouchies (my humor becomes much more biting, sardonic, and scarce - one of the symptoms of a Grouchie. Weird, humor is like a natural body emission for me, like burping for my roomie's cro-magnon mates. I just kind of do it when it hits me and apologize for the bad ones - unlike the knuckle-draggers, of course. Amazing how jocks are all alike. Scary, too, 'cause my cousins are suddenly jocks too, and that frankly scares the Cheese-With-A-Z out of me). As such, I must either expel my Ick Buildup by being tremendously unpleasant for a brief period of time, or I must go and do something incredibly stupid and possibly suicidal (like telling a scotsman he has a nice dress).

On the plus side of my grouchies, I tend to get a bit detatched and not say much. I turn into Spike Spiegel with extravagantly SPIFFYPANTS and wild blonde-red hair!

Oh yes, it's blonde now, by the way. Or it was, until it turned red again for a mysterious reason or collection of reasons I have yet to discern. I'm funny like that.

Maybe I should give up and just admit I'm always gonna be Ed. Wheehaahahaa! EDWARD ATE AAAAAAALL THE MEDICINE! IT TASTED LIKE CAN~DYYYYYY!¹

So yes. Families don't always get along as they should, and some folks get so bogged down in momentary discomfort or unpleasantness that they completely forget to have a good time. I'm fortunate to spot these times when I do, but I can't help wondering how many other times I could have had a good time but completely forgot to or entirely missed out on it. Prolly when I went to Boston, I suppose. Been thinking entirely too much about that lately, but what can you do?

Get pissed out of your brains and eat Vindaloo, I suppose. Hmm, not a bad plan.

And now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with a man named Alucard and this dog is farting far too much to make any more playing around on the computer enjoyable.

~AYRN

*koff, koff*

P.S. E-mail me! I love being talkededed to. I fancy most folks are afraid of me or can't think of a topic, so I'll give you one: What hair colour would look best in me when I pose in drag? Talk amongst yourselves!

P.P.S. I've been reading ryo-ohki, and yet she has mentioned me exactly 0% of the times I have read in the last month. This simply will not do. If I am not mentioned soon, I will have to take up radical action, such as writing about how smelly her new diary layout is. IT SMELLS! LIKE BLUEBERRIES! WAHAhAhAAA! YOUR DIARY SI NOT TEH PIE!!


ADDYDENDRUM: Amaretto Tiramisu is my favorite variant of the three I have invented so far. I have explored Extra Whipped Cream Tiramisu, Chocolate Cream Tiramisu, and Amaretto Tiramisu. God bless the Italians and all their layered foods.

¹ Actually happened in Cowboy Bebop Manga #2. Explains a lot, don't it?