This is your brain...

Because I'm on Vicodin for my badly strained back, I do not have the coherence nor the attention span to write a true blog post today. Instead, you will get an assortment of the crazy things that have floated through my drugged mind today.

My Loki-loving Druid friend is awesome, but needs to ask her deities to keep their hands to themselves. No, I will not even try to explain that statement.

My friend made me a Yule CD! I may not celebrate that particular variant of the midwinter holiday, but I greatly appreciate it. Yay pretty music!

A hug from the right stuffed animal just makes everything better. Well, maybe that's a hug TO the right stuffed animal, because an inanimate object can't really give a hug. And it doesn't make EVERYTHING better, obviously. It makes me feel better, but it's not like it's going to cure cancer or bring world peace or anything. It's a stuffed dog, damn it, not fucking Superman. Though a stuffed dog that could cure cancer would be pretty badass.

I have discovered that having my dorm room at 75*F seems to be a perfect temperature for hanging around in just PJs, without needing to cuddle under a blanket. I like lounging around in pj-shorts, so this is a nice discovery. Still a bit chilly for just bein' nekkid, though.

I have also discovered that having my dorm at about 80*F is about the right temperature for just wandering around my room naked all day.

Pretending to be a nudist behind closed doors has some drawbacks when you've got G-cup boobs. Those bitches are heavy. I have three choices - deal with my chest and back and neck hurting as they hang there all day, get very little done because I'm always using one arm to hold up my boobs, or getting nothing done because I made the mistake of asking my boyfriend to follow me around holding up my boobs all day (he is quite distracting when he gets his hands on my boobs).

Today, I missed my hip-length hair more than I have in a long time. There's something incredibly sensuous about spending the day all but naked, and feeling your own soft, soft hair rippling across your back and butt all day.

I adored the feeling of my own hair against my skin. I miss it like crazy. I'm afraid that even if I started growing my hair back out today, by the time it was long enough again I would have forgotten what the big deal was. Or gotten fed up with the crazy WORK the hair is when the roots ain't healthy. Which they won't be until we resolve my mystery health issue.

Huh. The bodies of the stylized dragonflies on my wall hanging look a LOT like penises. As in, holy shit why are there flying green penises on my wall. I may never look at dragonflies the same way again.

I have deleted the next set of thoughts about 5 times now. Each time, it was something that seemed like an awesome idea to share, that I then censored out. I guess it's good to know that I still have a modicum of good judgment left to me in my drugged state.

I kinda hate how codeine and its related drugs (esp hydrocodone) seem to make me an insomniac. I take them, and then I'm gonna be up until about half an hour before they wear off. Kinda sucks when you're sick, or injured, and need to heal.

And this is just my brain on half of the smaller Vicodin dose (the doc's having me break the pills in half to get a good dose for my body weight and stomach issues). Imagine what nonsense I'd be spouting if they made me take the whole pill? Or upped the dose? I might start babbling about schizophrenic ninja octopi again.

Weapons-Grade Awful

My evening on twitter started here:

Ugh. This flavored Motion Lotion from Doc Johnson is gawdawful. Seriously, weapons-grade awful. AVOID.

A perfectly honest statement of opinion. Somehow, over the next hour, it devolved from there. To be quite honest, I'm not sure how it happened.

@Epiphora My tongue threatened to sue, or at least get a restraining order.

I blame my friends for goading me on.

I wonder if there are any lawyers who would take my case? "Um, you see, my tongue is trying to sue me, and I need your help..."

I really don't know how to explain this stuff.

I swore to my tongue that it would never happen again, that I would never subject her to such crappy flavors again. She doesn't believe me.

I wonder why?!

It's kinda hard to argue with one's tongue, though. They always get the last word. 

 I... um... hell, how does one apologize for puns? By asking that the punishment fit the crime?

Levaquin is a hell of a drug

I absolutely love Levaquin (the antibiotic, for those of you who have never been sick enough to use it). Why, do you ask? Masturbation, of course!

Let me break this down for you. First of all, being on Levaquin means that I'm way too sick to, you know, actually be able to do real work. I can't study, can't work in my lab, and can barely tpye straight. (you know, I think I'll just leave that typo in place, because it looks funny. I wonder how you would pronounce that, anyway...) That means lots of time to jack off and catch up on porn!

Secondly, being on Levaquin generally means that I have bronchitis, so I'm coughing all the time. Generally this is a bad thing, but I discovered that the cough reflex includes tensing the PC muscles. Slip in my favorite Xhale kegel egg, and suddenly my g-spot is loving this whole sick shindig.

Third, and best, this crazy antibiotic sets of a crazy sympathetic system response (for the non-bio-geeks in the crowd, that's the one that turns on your fight-or-flight reaction). Again, sounds awful, but think about it: my heart is racing... like I'm aroused. I'm breathing fast... like I'm aroused. I'm already halfway to convincing my body that it's sexy time! Plus, and this is the bestest of them all, Levaquin makes my hands shake. All I have to do to jack off is hold my hand in the general vacinity of my clit, and the shaking does the rest! Talk about the epic pinnacle of lazy masturbation!

Damn, I need to get horrendously sick more often. I have a lot of porn to catch up on!


"Miss, we're going to have to ask you to step away from the internet, very slowly... keep your hands away from the keyboard where we can see them..."

Open Letter to My Breasts

Dear Boobs,

Please pick a size and stick with it. Seriously now, this is starting to get a little ridiculous. I'm almost 23, it's high time you settled down. Continued size- and shape-changing shenanagins will force us to resort to more drastic measures.

Respectfully,
The Management