Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

What would Jesus fucking Christ do?

I'm wandering this morning in a fog, hungry, vaguely thinking, "It's a shame I never took the time to eat that hamburger last night...I'll have one now!" Get out to the kitchen, pick up pan from stove, stare at its charred surface with a frown, and realize...I did eat a burger.

So I was pretty drunk last night. And it often makes me loose-tongued and unpredictable. I was feeling pretty generous toward the world after about three drinks: goodwill toward men, blah di blah.

This morning not so much. This morning I've still got other people's issues in my head and I'm thinking: Your Gay Spike hate makes Gay Xander cry. I'm thinking: my guys skeeve you? Bore you? Thanks ever so. I'm thinking that every second Tuesday I'm going to randomly drop a rant into my LJ where I bitch at femslash's "slick, quivering pussies" and the "disgusting way they rub against each other" and I'm going to explain to everyone repeatedly why this is something that pushes all my buttons, no matter how times I read it.

Which is all false, by the way, just so you know.

I'm truly sorry to be such a bitch, and apologize to my slash-skeeved friends. But I feel like a cat that can't purge a hairball and have to get some of these thoughts out. Vive la difference, yeah. But man...I just want to be in my Jasmine zone of slash love and not feel self-conscious because my guys have working dicks that do dick-like things together. So slash is palatable only when the guys are neutered like Ken dolls, always dressed, and careful not to scare the children?

I have nothing to say to that. I'm just going to take my upset, vibrating self somewhere else now, probably offline, before I work myself up any further. My goal with my own rantiness is just to put my head down and push through with the hope that I'll pass to the other side of the storm sooner rather than later.

These are all just *my* issues, of course. And my issues are with issues, like dogs on leashes barking at each other, and not with the people who own them, who in this case I quite like, even though I'm not sure how clear that is, and I'm probably going to piss people off, and disclaimers like this don't excuse the fact that I'm acting like a whiplash drunk, unpredictable and creepy.

Ah, fuck.

Edited to add: Wanted to make clear also that I'm not drawing battle lines; because I find kerfuffles (someone needs to boot that word, like an overly cute kitten) unproductive and boring. I'm just venting a little steam in what I hope is a not-too obnoxious way. I also feel slightly better for having eaten a burger. Cow solves everything. Except it doesn't. Will try to write now.
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