*hugs Mishi* Oh, they are...I just miss him, dang it. All my roomies have bfs...and the farthest away one of them is like...less than 2 hours. My honey's 3000 miles away. So...it sucketh.
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*hands over the Secret PMS Basket of Goodies*
Heating pad, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate-covered prezels, cheez-its, chocolate, painkillers, fuzzy blanket, fuzzy cat, fuzzy bunny, fuzzy guinea pig, and an airhorn to keep the Y-chromosome-types away.
Does that help?
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It's funny, I don't tend to crave salt. But I also tend to have a *really* bad reaction to salt. Lots of bloating, edema, etc.
I still keep it in the PMS Basket, though.
I really need to refill that thing soon. All my supplies are getting low.
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I just end up craving junk food. Lots and lots of junk food. Like...in one day, I could eat like...pizza and chocolate and a bagel and a cheeseburger and cookies and soda pop and ice cream and..."And so all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride!"
"Hallo elskan min/Trui ekki hvad timinn lidur"
Amayis is my wifey
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: offers Ree a nice cup of hot cocoa, with her choice of whipped cream or marshmallows:I don't have an attitude problem. You have a perception problem.
My LiveJournal
A page we can all agree with!
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I called my Sis this afternoon to check on Mom's condition (I got to talk to Mom, but that lady is on morphiiinneeee). Mom's doing well, she might get to go home tomorrow, but hopefully she'll at least get a regular room.
That was the good news. Then Sis said, "Oh, and Dad had a wreck today..." JESUS CHRIST ON A POGO STICK! *sigh* He's fine, just banged up, and got sent home with a bunch of pain pills. I have no idea really what happened or what condition his truck is in. He does have another truck, and my sister begged him not to drive anywhere tomorrow. For, you see, my father is an alcoholic and a pill addict and I wouldn't doubt that he'll have taken all those pills (15) plus whatever else he could get his hands on by morning...and then try to go out for a drive. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he was drunk when he had the wreck.
Also, he apparently tried to talk Mom out of going to the ER. Y'know, when she was BLEEDING FROM HER KIDNEYS. Gah. Jerk. It's a wonder he can even get car insurance anymore with as many times as he's done something like this (run off the road into a ditch...or a tree...).
Can I just go ahead and commit them to a home so I don't have to worry about them anymore?"Even arms dealers need groceries." ~ Ziva David, NCIS
Tony: "Everyone's counting on you, just do what you do best."
Abby: "Dance?" ~ NCIS
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*dives under the thickest pile of blankets*
I killed an owl last night at work. He flew right into my windshield and bounced over to my side mirror, where he kinda...stuck...until I slowed down and turned into the drive. And whenever I kill an owl...Very Bad Things tend to happen. Usually a nasty injury. Once I walked into a plate glass window and wound up with a fat lip and a fractured nose. It's a bad omen for me, the only one that really scares me. So I'm just gonna hide under here for 24 hours, okay?
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