fightingthecage: (KS - Is Ded)

Oh Scribble. Why today? You've kept me waiting all this time and choose the day that both the England football and rugby teams are playing to decide to move. GRRRR!

Should be fine though. I refuse to go to hospital until after the rugby semi-final. And bebeh doesn't seem to be any great rush anyway.

In conclusion: EEEEEEE!! :D :D!
fightingthecage: (Star Wars - You suck!)

*prods belly* Stoppit. If you're not teasing, get on with it. If you are, settle down. You're too big now for that sort of thumping around to be comfortable, kthx.

Yet another day of doing fuck all. Kill me now.
fightingthecage: (Freddie - Black and White)

Dear Scribble

Get a fucking move on. The hospital won't force you out until the 15th and I can't be doing with waiting around that long.

No Love



ETA 2: Book meme thing.

The list is the 106 books most often noted as unread by Library Thingusers. Bold is for books you've read. Italics for books you've started but haven't finished. Strikethrough is for books you found unreadable.

I'm adding an extra to mine. I'll underline the ones that I own but have not yet read. Because I have a lot of those in my bookshelves.

Books! )

If anyone hasn't read The Time Traveler's Wife or Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance...sort yourselves out. And I really need to read whats in my bookshelves. I didn't realise I'd collected so many and not started in on them.
fightingthecage: (KS - Is Ded)

[ profile] metro_weird wins with the headlines and photo captions today. I particularly adore the one with the nun. So much so that I think I'll link it, even though I wasn't going to. Here! Man. I am once again reduced to helpless giggles. And remember - Hugging: Careful now!

One day to go. Nothing to do. I am in a state of nervous tension the like of which I haven't felt since the last time I was on stage. I am going to go and bake delicious things and then devour them while watching the footy tonight. Oh yes.
fightingthecage: (B&W - Sleeping Man)

*pokes Bump* Ahahaha. There's a whole lot of those fake contractions going on tonight. Like, they're just not stopping. Perhaps Scribble and/or my body is objecting to the time spent lugging things around this evening.

Or perhaps The Uterus is going, 'Y HALO THAR! YOU'RE DUE IN TWO DAYS!' and is gearing up for something. Hmmm. Interesting.

Well. I'm going to deal with this by going to bed. It seems the only sensible option. Perhaps by tomorrow things will have chilled out again and I can go back to only being aware of my kid in an abstract kind of hand-wavey, 'yeah, I know it's coming soon but whatever' kind of way.

fightingthecage: (FS - Ratpack)

*shifty eyes* No, I am not sitting at my computer, eating chocolate brownies and listening to Christmas tunes. No.

...move along, nothing to see here.

Anyway. Ahem. WOE! Ex-Housemate Jen texted me and was all, 'Dude, are you coming to my wedding? I need numbers for the reception people!' And I'm all, 'But but but, its ten days after Scribble is due which is fine if he/she is on time but if he/she isn't then I will either not be able to or will risk it and will go into labour in the church or at the reception or at the very least will have to travel back the day before being induced and its a five hour drive away argh argh argh!!1!'

So...ugh. I so want to go. Its in Oban, which is up on the edge of the Highlands in Scotland (omg so beautiful!) and it's October so it'll be all cool and autumny and gorgeous and hello, my best mate is getting married. Third attempt and she's finally going to make it! And if Scribble has arrived then my mother is going to come up with me and look after bebe while I go to the wedding and get pissed, so I even have that sorted out. I just, y'know, need the baby to turn up already. Bah. Its an awkward thing. *pokes it* I just know its going to thwart my attempts to...well, do anything.

On the other hand, of course, not going means that I don't have to go and get an outfit. And can even delay going to get a present, which would be good because I am skint and also, had forgotten about buying one up until now. But that is shallow and wrong so if I can go, I will. I just don't want to tell her 'yeah I'm coming' and have her pay for my seat at the dinner or whatever and then be unable to be there.


In other thoughts; in the 'Winter Wonderland' song (which I am not listening to in any way, shape or form) is up with the line that I've quoted in the title to this entry? And the follow up, '...but you can do the job when you're in town.' What does being married - albeit on a seemingly part-time, long-distance basis - have to do with building a snowman that they're pretending looks like Parson Brown? I am confused.

Also, there appears to have been a Heroes related occurence in my flist. Is it the season finale of S2 in the States at the moment, or similar? Thats all I can think it must be. My ramblings on the mid-point of S1 yesterday were entirely coincidental and now I feel like a dork for being so far behind the rest of the universe. Stupid UK.

And a quick word on Spooks (to make me feel better, as its one of the few good shows that I'll get to see before you Yanks) - wtf BBC? One website clearly states that the new series will be on in September yet I have checked the listings and NO! It totally lied to me. And you, dear Beeb, favourite of my stations, are not clarifying matters and will only tell me that it's 'coming this Autumn.' I NEED TO KNOW! I need my fix of Hot Adam, especially as its his last series. His brief appearance in the recent Tesco commercial is not enough to sate my longing. Sort yourself out!

ETA: *snorfle* Kiefer has his own calendar this year, not just a random 24 one. I may just have to buy that.
fightingthecage: (B&W - Sleeping Man)

I really feel like I should be doing something more productive, not just sitting around reading and playing backgammon on the internet. I mean, I should clean things and take the pram thing out of my car. And rearrange the last few boxes in the flat so that there's room to set up the mattress my mother will be sleeping on after Scribble shows up. And possibly get that mattress out from under my bed because leaving until I'm actually in labour might not be the smartest move. Also, I should pack my bag for the hospital, given that this baby is due in twelve days time.

Except that, if I pack things and get the last few bits ready then it'll be real. Y'know? And while I'm so looking forward to not being pregnant anymore, it doesn't change the fact that as soon as I'm not...I'll have a child. And, y'know, be bound to it for the next eighteen years of my life. Given that I've never been able to commit to a single thing/person/job before in my life, this is indeed a scary prospect.

...not as scary as my mother fussing over me for two weeks after he/she arrives but pretty scary nonetheless.

So! I shall watch the rest of S5 Queer as Folk today I think. And read more of The Bourne Ultimatum (the overuse of italics still annoys me but the story is awesome enough for me to overlook it. Also, I too overuse italics so I'm not really in a position to judge) and then watch the rugby later on (go Ireland!) and then possibly a movie before trying, and failing, to sleep properly. Sounds like a plan. A plan born from all kinds of denial but I can live with that.
fightingthecage: (B&W - Bed)

EEEEE still Autumn!

I must go and buy things with peanuts in them. I mean, peanuts are not something I normally eat a lot of anyway but OMG I WANT PEANUTS! I will buy peanut butter and Snickers bars and packets and packets of honey roasted peanuts and just look at them for the next 2/3 weeks and then as soon as Scribble is born I will devour them all! Peanut butter straight from the jar! I will! I mean it! Mwhahaha!

I don't do very well with not wanting things I can't have. Which has always been my problem with men, atually.

I am going to bake today. I feel very pleased about this. Just fruit scones, because they are le awesome. I've wanted some of my mothers' for ages but forgot to ask her to make some and just nabbed the receipe off her instead. Which was funny because when I said, 'Mum, can I have your scone receipe please?' she just looked at me and paused for a long minute and then said, 'Well, I usually just make it up,' which says a lot for the cooking skills of Irish women brought up on a farm. Her scones are always fucking awesome. However, I was not brought up on a farm and therefore mine will probably suck but who cares? I am altogether too bored to mind.

I am continually having very disturbing dreams. VIvid dreaming is apparantly a common side effect of being up the spout, due to extra hormones and whatnot. I like dreaming, it's interesting. And they've usually been OK, if baby-centred. The last few nights though...all involve lots and lots of blood. And getting attacked by dogs which I then kill. And people trying to murder me. And one where Scribble's skin was all coming off and it went to feed and it had a mouthful of sharp teeth and was going to bite me to pieces like a rabid dog or something. It also snarled quite alarmingly. Also one where I was with a bunch of lj peeps and we were playing video games that involved killing zombies and then suddenly we were really trapped in a castle with zombies coming at us. And there was lots of blood. Always lots and lots of blood.

They're not scary exactly. Mild fear. Almost comic-book violence really. But it's bizarre that a dream can start off nice and then become a bloodfest, night after night. I always remember them too. Its probably some sort of anxiety over the kid though I don't know where all the blood relates to that.


Meme/survey thingy for y'all )

ETA: Is it Talk Like A Pirate Day tomorrow? I hope so. I so want to get in on that.
fightingthecage: (Chrimbo - Reindeer Cake)

EEEE! I went out to the supermarket an hour or so ago...and had to wear a jumper, put the heater on in my car and I could see my breath in the air. IT'S AUTUMN IT'S AUTUMN IT'S AUTUMN!!1!


Even better was that it smelled like someone had had a bonfire or something - even if they hadn't, that's what autumn smells like! And it's fresh out there and Christmas is coming and YAY! EEEE! I want to bake things and I wish I still had an open fire and the nights are getting darker earlier and I love this time of year! *bounce bounce*

Ahem. Anyway. (I was in a different supermarket the other day and they are already stocking Christmas chocolates and food. EEEE!) My mother got back from Canada yesterday and immediately phoned me to complain about her boyfriend ('boyfriend' in this case means 'man she has been with for 23 years' but its about the only description for him that fits) which is whatever, because its all she ever does when she talks about him anyway. In happier news, she said the cruise she was on was brilliant and the icebergs they went to look at were absolutely out of this world. And Canadians, apparantly, are just the friendliest people in the world. I concur entirely with that last statement btw, but it was all nice to hear anyway simply because my mother is never over effusive with her praise of holidays. She nitpicks. But she must have had a fabulous time for her to have said that and I'm glad, because it was her retirement present to herself and she deserves it.

I had a dream last night where the date of October 5th was very prominent. If Scribble turns up on the 5th, I will declare myself a precog. But also be pleased because that's a nice symmetrical birthday to have, if that makes sense. I hope he/she is not born on a rubbish day. If he/she is, maybe I'll just lie to it and celebrate it on a day I like better. Hmmm. Also, had a tour of the hospital yesterday so I know where to go when labour starts, what the delivery suite looks like etc. All looks quite nice and comfy, really. I was the only person on the tour on my own which was a bit depressing but can't be helped. I got to be smug anyway because all the other women had fucking huge bellies and had to sit down and take the lift etc, whereas I have two weeks to go and was bounding up the stairs and got sceptical looks as to whether I should be there at all, such is the non-obviousness of my bump. Heh.

One of the fathers-to-be was hot as hell. Is it wrong to ogle the bf/husbands of other very pregnant women? I hope not. Phwoar.

Saw Steve on Saturday when I went to the pub for dinner. He was not happy to see me. Ah well. He, also, looked hot as hell, having recently given himself a haircut. Schwing!

(I am fighting the urge to play Macy Gray singing 'Winter Wonderland'. ARGH, HELP ME!)

Urr, there was something else I was going to babble about but I've forgotten. Never mind. Oh yes, hang on! It was O.J Simpson. All I really have to say is HAHAHAHAHA! That dude is fucked up. Hopefully he'll get put away this time. If, y'know, it turns out he's guilty. But even if he isn't, I can't help feeling that it would be poetic justice.

Right, off to watch me some Queer as Folk. and not listen to Mariah Carey warbling about the dude she wants for Chrimbo. At all. No.
fightingthecage: (B&W - Bed)

Number of huge fuckoff spiders on bedroom ceiling: 0
Number of huge fuckoff spiders on bedroom ceiling five minutes ago: 1
Number of huge fuckoff spiders removed from bedroom ceiling today: 2
Number of huge fuckoff spiders removed from bedroom ceiling in the last two days: 3

Not loving this. Anyway, spiders aside, I am productive again! I got my wardrobe pieces out of the box today, which is a huge leap forward to my way of thinking. And there are actually less fiddly bits than I thought there would be, probably due to scale being larger. So I'll probably tackle that tomorrow.

Enrolled at college. Last time I enrolled at college, it took over a month, involved three visits, endless queuing, about twenty forms, photos taken and three trips to the cash office while they tried to get my fees right. Today? Five minutes and done. I signed two bits of paper and that was it. Bonus!

Scribble is still doing well, according to midwife. Apparantly, he/she has dropped a little bit and seems to be about ready for its head to engage in the pelvis. The idea of which squicks me somewhat, if I'm honest, but at least it really means that the end is in sight. All the books I've read say that the head engages about a week or two before delivery - I'm due four weeks today. But the midwife did say that even if he/she engages now, it could still go the four weeks. I'm just hoping it'll be sooner rather than later, I think - I'm bored with waiting, bored with wondering what the sex is, what's going to happen when he/she arrives etc. Just want to get on with it, really. But mostly am hoping that the Scriblet will just shift down a bit so that it stops interfering with my bloody breathing! When you breathe from your diaphragm, its no fun when there's a baby pressing on it too, y'know? It's a minor complaint though. I mean, I haven't had to spend a penny on maternity clothes/bras as all my clothes still fit (and most are still too big, as Midwife pointed out today), I haven't had major sickness, most people still can't tell I'm pregnant and apart from some tiredness, I've largely been unaffected, physically. So, good baby! Lets hope it stays good once its popped.

Also, I had a random dream last night. Steve was grudgingly there with me the day the baby was due and we were just hanging out in a not-very-friendly manner. He was about to leave to go back in the RAF, I was apologetic because it wouldn't come on time. The barn we were in was on fire but we weren't freaked and people in flame-retardant suits were running over the walls and ceilings. People were playing rugby outside on my old rugby ground. Then he left, and the kid was just there (and very cute too! A little boy)...and I couldn't decide between the names Donovan and Darian. I mean, what? I suppose they're alright but its not like I've even considered either. Random. Pregnancy is proving awesome for giving weird vivid dreams.

OK, I need to sleep. An early morning up fighting spiders has left me dead all day. Tomorrow, I fight...wardrobes!

God, maternity leave is boring.


Aug. 26th, 2007 06:02 pm
fightingthecage: (Kevin - Hatlove!)

EEEE I have finished work. EEE! Hurrah! No more putting up with co-workers who don't give a shit and conveniently disappear when any nasty jobs show up. No more 12 hour shifts in 35 degree (C) heat. No more manically busy Sundays and crazyass bank holidays and people walking in and asking for food that isn't on the menu. No more garnish plates and starters and fiddly fucking sandwiches and desserts and salads and specials and YAY!

Came home, threw all work clothes in the bin and stood in the shower for fucking ages until I was positive the place was properly scrubbed away. I mean, I may end up going back in nine months time, simply because the shifts will be flexible and most of the people are pretty awesome. But maybe not. And if I do, it's nine months away. Nine months filled with a Scribble. So far in the future at the moment that it doesn't even count as reality. So hurrah!

And to top a nice day off, exchanged many civil words with the Steve! *dies of shock* OK, it wasn't exactly comfortable but he made an effort and so did I and no one else noticed the Awkward (I swear I could drown in the anger that comes off that man sometimes) and when I caught him on his own and asked him if he'd still be there in a couple of weeks, he didn't bite my head off the way he usually does when there's no one else around. He was fine. So. All in all, a good day. Added bonus = his new shorts. Seriously. Schwing. He's a fuckwit and I still want to do him.

But OMG. No more work. I can't quite believe it. It's been so tiring the last month or so and this week, as it includes a bank holiday weekend, I did 38.5 hours. Under normal circumstances, no problem at all. Nearly nine months pregnant? Killer. I've worked six days a week for the last month and the relief at not having to do it anymore is...considerable. To put it mildly. So, I now have a week at my mothers', as she turns 60 on Wednesday (go mum!). I go Tuesday. Tomorrow I will spend buying her birthday present (portable MP3 player/DAB radio, yellow rose bush, posh speciality foods and chocolates etc), constructing a wardrobe and packing car for trip down. Tuesday = driving. Rest of week = lounging around, shopping, family stuff (eek) culminating in a big sit-down dinner with a heap of relatives next Sunday (kill me now). Next Monday = back. Four weeks after that...wait for Scribble to show up.

And he/she had better not be early because mother will be on holiday in Canada/Alaska and will murder me (I'm not even kidding) if the child shows up while she's away. She keeps saying to me, 'don't you dare have it while I'm away!' and I'm all '...uhh, how exactly do you want me to control this?' But yeah, whatever. I plan to sleep the entire month beforehand, yay!

Righty-o, will stop rambling. Will catch up on football scores and then write a necessary OOM and generally spend the evening chillin'. HURRAH NO MORE WORK!!


Aug. 22nd, 2007 06:28 pm
fightingthecage: (London - the Eye)

I win a tenner! Scriblet's gender remains a mystery. *sigh* It is an awkward little sod and therefore is obviously taking after its father already.
fightingthecage: (Angel - Black Wings)

Scan tomorrow. Hurrah! Tenner ssys that Scribble still doesn't cooperate and I'll have to continue to use he/she/it descriptions for the next six weeks.

Got an email from my mother today in which she informed me that she is 'almost sure that iron pills are not agreeing with [my] system. Ask midwife for alternatives,' along with dietary advice. This may make sense if I had ever told her that I was having any weird symptoms but no. I've been fine and have told her that repeatedly. She bases this assumption on the fact that she can't take iron pills. She is a random woman. This reminds me of four months ago. We were having a row via text message and she sends me one saying,' You are ungrateful and need to grow up! Tesco recalling kettles. serial no. ***** due to faulty wiring.'

...yes. And it was even quite a bad row. What makes it even more bizarre is that she bought my kettle and so knows perfectly well that it isn't even from Tesco! Really, I don't know quite what to make of her any more.

All that aside, this week is being dodgy. I finish work on Sunday and am glad about it because people are irritating me more and more due to being knackered and I'm needing stupid amounts of sleep now. But at the same time, work is the only contact I have with Steve even if he's not talking to me. If I'm not around to remind him of what's going on and keep attempting to engage him in conversation or whatever, then isn't it going to make it even easier for him to piss off for good? I suppose there's nothing I can do about it. Time's on his side, with this one. It's not like I can stand in the kitchen until I go into labour, hoping he'll change his mind, right?

The closer this gets, the more I'm not looking forward to the inevitable confrontation that's going to come with him. At the same time, I'm looking forward to not being pregnant any more. And of course, there'll be a baby. Which is nice. :)

Million things to do tomorrow. Going to bed now, I think. Man, I want to write though. That's also nice because it's the first time in months - practically the first time this year - that I've really felt like it.
fightingthecage: (Hamlet - O rly?)

Driving down to flood-infested Gloucestershire happened in three hours on Monday, the fastest its ever happened. Coming back today? Five and a half hours. I HATE HOLIDAY TRAFFIC! AND SCHOOL HOLIDAYS! AND CARS! AND MOTORWAYS! AND FRIDAYS!

Other than that, the week was OK. Midwife says Scribble is doing well. Thanks to mother, said child now has (I think) all essentials needed for arrival in the world such as changing mats, car seats etc. I also won't have to buy food for like, the rest of the year or any other household goods for that matter but that's normal when I see The Parent anyway, so allgood.

Incidents of a more unfortunate nature - heh. Well, we all know insomnia sucks, right? Mother has this solution in the form of some kind of lemon herbal tea stuff. At 2am one night, after lying awake for bloody hours, I give in and go to make some. I can't bear herbal tea normally but thought it was worth a shot. Mother joins me in the kitchen and despite proclaiming that the stuff doesn't taste of anything at all, proceeds to ply me with honey and half a lemon. So, fine. Only I'm tired and the lemon is in a tupperware box and as I try to force the lid off it - HAHAHA! I found out it does hurt when you upend a cup of just-boiled water all over yourself. Joy!

Luckily, was wearing loose clothing so it didn't do too much damage. Some blistering, large patch of red skin on stomach, nothing too major. Good thing mother is a nurse really and has handy nurse stuff for putting on burns to limit the damage. Still. Was very bad for the insomnia as frightful pain is not conducive to good sleep. Ah well. Didn't hurt too much by later on that day so no worries.

Also a touch worrying - mother's repeated comments (when faced with anyone she's buying baby stuff off) along the lines of, 'We're due in October,' and 'We don't know what we're having yet.' This happened so often I was forced to ask her whether she'd got herself pregnant as well and was trying to break it to me gently. She just grinned and told me that I was to let her enjoy it because it'll probably be her only grandchild. Granted, it probably will be. But its never a good sign when my mother has laid claim to something because she does tend to keep her claws in. This morning she had managed to re-invite herself to the delivery, despite me having had words with her about that in the past. Hmmm. This needs an eye kept on it. I'm not having Scribble unduly influenced by her. Lord no.

On a disconcerting - and somewhat related to above point - note, I mentioned that I was going to make a will at some point soon, to make sure Scribble is cared for if something happens to me. Not much good hoping Steve would step up if I died, so broached the subject with Mother...only to find that she'd already talked that over with my sister. And they'd already decided what to do about it! Um, what? I was left with the vague feeling that my own family might be about to murder me to get their hands on my kid. Perhaps I'll hold off on writing the will - if the baby would automatically go to its father, I may yet have a chance of survival.

In other news - my QasF DVD's that I ordered about three weeks ago finally arrived. On Monday, when I wasn't here. They have been signed for by someone I have never heard of. HELLO?! There is no note under my door/downstairs with the mail/anywhere pointing me in the direction of where they might be. Or who with. Omg. Gay.

With that, I depart for much car-unpacking. I swear, I could equip the entire UN peacekeeping force with the contents of my car at the moment. The pregnant female ones, anyway.
fightingthecage: (Fence No)


Just gimme my baby already.

*breaks things*

fightingthecage: (B&W - Sleeping Man)

Rarr! So ! I have finished First Among Sequels, the Thursday Next book I've been droning on about. And its not my favourite, there's quite a lot of exposition for people who haven't read the previous books. But there are still a lot of pure gold moments in it - man, its almost like fanfic. So much time is spent in the worlds of other books, its a permanent reminder of the genius of other writers as well. So clever, and bloody hilarious. I love! Only two years until the next one (BOO!) - but at least there'll be another three books after this one. Something to look forward to.

Had to spend almost three hours in the hospital this morning to have a glucose tolerance test to check for gestational diabetes. Its a waste of time 'cos I tested my blood sugar two months ago and it was fine, but midwives, it seems, insist on these things. Consequently, I have huge bruises on both arms where I've been stuck for blood. Plus, a stingy leg where I had an injection that I can't remember the name of. My blood type is negative so I have to have three injections in case Scribble's blood type is positive and blah blah blah antibodies, sharing blood, affects future pregnancies etc etc.

I am tired. This is partly due to only having two hours sleep early this morning before the hospital appointment and partly because you have to starve yourself from the night before having the glucose test. Of course, I've eaten now and even slept this afternoon but I sil feel like pants. Therefore, I will stop being blah and simply go to bed. This would be sensible, I think.
fightingthecage: (Default)

So yes! There is now, quite unexpectedly, home internets. Hurrah! This automatically means that I must bore on about the upcoming arrival of my kid as it has been decreed that that is the only thing I am allowed to think about at the moment. I don't know who came up with that or why I wasn't warned in advance but there you go. How rude. Could be worse I suppose - although what if I can never think about anything else? Like, forever? Or the next eighteen years at least. I may die. I am doing my own head in.

That aside, have a scan pic. I will tell you what I think about scan pictures under the cut. Possibly it is not what prospective parents are supposed to think on first viewing their precious little baby but what can you do?

OK, enough blathering about that. I am off to do chores and then spend the evening revelling in my newly-restored internets. HURRAH!
fightingthecage: (MR - Blue Love (Your Song))

So, I was going to be referring to the kid as 'Dude' seeing as I don't know its sex. But then [ profile] wanttobeatree dubbed it 'Scribble' and that's too cute and perfect not to use, so there it is.

Scribble is a pain in the ass. No, seriously. It waits until I collapse into bed, having cunningly made me exhausted all day as I have a job where I stand for between 7-10 hours a day. And then decides that 'Oh! Mum's stopped moving! Now would be a great time for a dialouge.'

And indeed, there is dialouge. Scribble does not have a large vocabulary at present. In fact, it is non-existant and so, I just get kicked a lot. Or punched or elbowed or whatever. Sometimes Scribble decides that somersaults will get the point across better. Whee! And I respond by sighing. And then asking politely for it to please calm down. And three hours later, I am generally swearing.

Also, there is the way I can be standing at work, talking or working or whatever and then a kick to the bladder comes out of nowhere in a David-Beckham-taking-a-brilliant-free-kick sty-le. That's always fun. And the way that if I eat anything bigger or more filling than an apple or bit of meat, I have to go sit down for ten minutes 'cos I get all dizzy and feel ill standing up.

And the worst thing of all? I don't mind. It's horrid. I mean, for the last two weeks I've had an endless stream of appointments with nurses, doctors, scan-people and midwives. I've had to tell my mother, father, friends, Steve, my boss, everyone at work. I've read endless literature on babies and labour and childbirth (and god, frankly there are some things that I did not need to see). I'm knackered and don't feel well. Next week I have to go see a consultant and no doubt be subjected to the kind of intimate examination I've avoided my entire life. It's all a giant pain.

And I don't care. It'll be worth it, I reckon (Scribble, you'd better be worth it). So bring it on. Yeah! :D!

Omg people, make sure you use contraception.


fightingthecage: (Default)

December 2011

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