"I think i'm in love now"

The Lioness is back, at least for now. Let us all hold hands and sing. I cannot tell you, in view of You-Know-What, how grateful I am that I want to, and actually can, blog about this. 

There is one blogger whom I've deleted from my tentative faves because she pissed me off majorly by ranting about another woman's blog - about shopping. First blogger is most annoyed that, in a world where people starve, get ill, die, in a world where "there's no time left" this supposed bimbo is wasting precious seconds by blogging about [well yes,"aboot" then, sounds so lovely overlapping an English accent, *coughs up furball*] the clothes and shoes she buys.

I say, isn't it so much better to be an activist full time? To live immersed in the world's miseries, suffering, grievances? Isn't it so much better to have reality knocking at our door at all times? To absolutely obsess abt it until all laughter is squeezed from our lives - and no, pardon me but baking my own bread and making my own pasta while breastfeeding my 5-year-old is NOT my idea of a good time. Don't I have much more fun thinking abt U. than abt shoes? Why yes I do, how could I not, why would I ever want it otherwise should I have more than just one Tico and one Teco, the two solitary Portie neurons? And isn't it true that loving clothes and blogging abt them is a SURE SIGN of callousness? And isn't it always the bleeding tree-huggers, in their white-socked Birckenstocks, who unfailingly Throw The First Most Un-Liberal Stone? The ones who go on and on and on about tolerance all the while being so ready to crucify others on very little info, and not because they love Tori [though they might because she is off-stream enough], until I want to just throttle them and bury them under a pile of Full Moon Activated Crystals?

[NOTE: this "tolerance" thing is most annoying, WHO WANTS TO BE TOLERATED and how bloody PATRONISING is it? It is only semantics, granted, but semantics matter and tolerance, as far as I'm concerned, is a bloody cow. So tolerate this.]

Well, Trugger, I can just tell you don't shave your [*shudder*] legs or [*gag*] your armpits and that's very poor form. Very scary, even if pherormonally quite effective. A very heartfelt Bugger You and Your Bloody Smugness. Oh you're welcome, dahling. Now go buy an Epilady and some make up, there's a good girl. Sorry, WOMAN.

Yes.