Dear ladies and gents and everyone else,
I am currently listening to Dropkick Murphys (damn good band) and am about to write a very confusing blog. It's confusing to me anyway. Let it commence or in the words of a wise man, "Engage."
      So being a woman is never fun, especially when from time to time your body goes, "You will go a little nuck-futty and ignore any sense of class and dignity." I try and maintain a sense of self-control but once in a while it goes out the damn window. I can look at the set of black roman shades I crafted from blood, sweat and tears for the kitchen window, knowing full well there's nothing wrong with them and say, "They're shit. They're the worst things I've ever done in my life and I should burn in hell for even wasting the fabric." Sensible me says, they're kinda cool, I should do that again.
    Now I am listening to Garbage (awesome) and my drink is running low. I contemplate the kitten for a while thinking, "How can something that cute be so destructive." It's ok. You know why it's ok? Because he's cute. And purty. I digress though. I assume at this point, there is some woman out there in the world reading this and wondering what the conclusion is to this crazy rant. Here it is.
     It will happen for most of your life, woman I've never met. The best way to deal with it (That I've found personally) is to imbibe copious amounts of vodka as it also has a purifying effect, sit out in a snowbank for 5-10 minutes, depending on your body's internal temperature and do lots of karaoke. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Kittens help too. I love you all and please take care. This is me signing off.