"Smiling as the shit comes down"*

I HATE Christmas! First of all, it’s bloody silly, Jesus was born in the Spring, sheep were giving birth, hullloooo!!!! READ THE BIBLE! I tell you, this liberal changing of dates and translating ad lib (young = virgin) is a bit too much. And then that boy had to go and turn… Catholic, oy vey! [Sorry if I offend anyone but I'm bloody annoyed and it's my blog and I can say whatever I want and Bob's your freaking uncle! You should know by now I'm not PC and if you didn't, well, NOW YOU DO.] And the whole country goes mad with gift buying and general batty behaviour, I went out on Saturday and was stuck, at 20.00, in Avenida da Liberdade for 45 min before I could escape. A TRAFFIC JAM at that hour, WHY? And I HATE that after Christmas come exams, and then some more exams, and then LOADS of exams, and then summer studying for exams, and then even MORE exams and then classes start again and all this I HATE more than Christmas! I HATE getting my period and look, no pain, brilliant, and then being awoken at 5 am by the FUCKING CLAWS OF DEATH which are painstakingly trying to detach not only part of my endometrium but also the myometrium AND the adventitia, why quit while we’re ahead. I HATE it when the cat decides she needs to sleep right along my legs, oh no, wait, make that tummy, there we go, all curled up, oops, my mistake, sorry about that, it needs to be the comfy space behind your knees, yes, uhmm, oh no, not quite right yet, make that tummy again, would you mind terribly lifting the duvet ONE MORE TIME, here we go, all settled, so nice and warm, I think I’ll do some kneading AND THAT’S MY FUCKING RIGHT OVARY YOU’RE KNEADING ON, CAT, THE ONE WHOSE THROBBING IS SHOWING THE MOTHERSHIP THE WAY! I HATE it when the dog doesn’t realise TODAY IS NOT A GOOD DAY TO BE A DOG and never mind the hint that the leash stays on so she doesn’t take off running after every fucking living thing in the neighbourhood, gekkos included, and I swear if I ever hear her crying her heart out again because Our Friend The Gekko couldn’t be bothered TO MAKE FRIENDS I will fucking wring her slender little neck personally, and even more so when the stupid dog takes off running after another dog, LEASH AND ALL, sending ME and MY WALLET flying so when I finally get up after having disentangled my limbs from the knot they somehow spontaneously formed while hitting the pavement I have to run around retrieving important documents AND money bills, all the while listening to a CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK sound as the leash periodically hits the ground and I can only pray she doesn’t smash the very heavy plastic bit against a car thereby increasing my already numerous expenses for the month and yes, why don’t you just asphyxiate by running around that rosebush, dog, what a fucking fabulous idea, it might just SPARE ME THE TROUBLE OF KILLING YOU! And I HATE having to call my mother, with whom I’m not talking because I’ve regressed and sulking because of You-Know-What sounds like THE PLAN and she’s all cheery and breezy and doesn’t even notice I’m being distant and cool, ARGHHH, and I HATE that I had to call her because I FORGOT to pay my student fees AGAIN so I had to rush so I would only be fined 10% instead of 15% and WHY, WHY DO I DO THIS EVERY YEAR??? It’s not enough that I have to pay 880 Euros for NOTHING, since we don’t even get toilet paper and soap, don't get me started on the rest, I have to go out of my bloody way every year to give them even more, and I have to call my mother because we’re so fucking trusting in this family that everyone has access to everyone else’s account and my father buys loads of stock and my mother has a good nose for business and bargains [she will go into any very naff, appalling store and find THE ONE PAIR of shoes that are not only leather BUT also hand-sewn (!) AND cost only 5 Euros/10 Euros/12 Euros (!!!)] so money keeps being moved around for some reason (better interest, applications, blah blah blah) and half the time I don’t even know what’s being done, I’ve tried saying enough already, I never know what is where so as of now please tell me and I’ll come and sign and do whatever (my parents have a by proxy document that allows them to do basically everything from the time I was in Israel AND I just sign whatever they want anyway) but I want to be involved or else I’m always lost - and wouldn’t you know it, IT WAS TOO MUCH FOR ME, all this running around signing things and going here and there, it was stressful AND I still never knew what went where so I just gave up, do with my money as you please, I don’t have one banking bone/tendon/ligament as it is, do ALL my investments for me and I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW PLEASE, THANK YOU, but then I HATE that when my mother finally tells me from what account to withdraw what (deadlines, fees, interest rates blah blah blah) [and yes, I HAD to ask because there was no time for discreet inquiries that would save my forgetful ass, so on top of the pre-existing aggravation I was given YET ANOTHER small preaching about forgetfulness from the woman who has been known to leave her gold pieces and such in every restroom known to mankind, heirlooms and all, I’M SO NEVER GOING TO TALK TO HER AGAIN!] [but see, she has such a fine nose for these things they have almost ALL been replaced because somehow, SOMEHOW, even with really old IRREPLACEABLE pieces she manages to FIND ONE JUST LIKE THE ONE SHE’S LOST] and I FINALLY get to the bank AND IT IS CLOSED because they close at 15.00, NOT at 16.00, don't you HATE that, so back to the 15% penalty amount we are, and I called the school to ask why they don’t have a NIB which would allow automatic money transfers instead of this bank-hopping but NOOOO, that would be too easy for us wouldn’t it, no NIB then, but what do you mean 15% fine, it’s only been 3 days since the deadline ended, you’ll only have to pay a 10% fine and I HATE IT when I get contradictory information but at least I’ll have some money saved for when I forget the next one, and I HATE INSOMNIA, I bet you didn’t know that YET, and you know what I also hate, I HATE men who CANNOT KISS, for pity’s sake, those are called lips, it’s no good trying to inhale them because THEY ARE ATTACHED TO THE REST OF ME YOU GIT, oh just go away already for fuck’s sake!!! AND I HATE THE BLOODY COLD! AND VET SCHOOL, oh how I HATE vet school! And what about Melanie Griffiths’s voice??? Dahling, you’re not seven anymore and have got most of your teeth, stop the breathy whispering, it’s FUCKING SCARY!!! *SMACK!* And while you’re at it, STOP all the plastic surgeries while there’s some expression left on your face, it ALREADY looks like a swarm of African bees stung those lips and it's horrendous, why don’t I give you the phone number of a certain male, what fun he’d have trying to swallow THAT!!! And I HATE IT when a really brilliant haircut somehow decides to rebel and I go around looking like I have been electrocuted REPEATEDLY because that hair has got something to prove and it needs to be proven TODAY, today of all days, and it looks HIDEOUS, and dog, quit all that cute whimpering while dreaming THIS MINUTE because IT’S NOT FUCKING GOING TO WORK. And most of all I HATE MY FUCKING SKIN *KICK*, but that’s all I’ll say for now because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I AM MIGHTILY PISSED OFF and today is no good day for a dermic come-out, not really, but let me just say that THE RETURN OF THE PINK PANTHER HAS LOST HEAPS OF ITS CHARM! So fuck that as well.

AND NO, I DON’T FEEL BETTER YET! Why, you got a problem with that?

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* Go here for title, the Crowded House ROCK!