GAH!

An eventful day, was yesterday. I had jury duty, so hurray. And even better I might actually be on a damn jury for a murder trial. That’s all I’m LEGALLY allowed to say about it at this point, on the orders of honorable judge Hashimoto. So, that was fun.

After filling out the questionnaire, it occurs to me that a few things will either guarantee I’m on the jury, or get me excluded immediately: I hold a college degree; I am married to a black man; my sister is gay; I honestly think our judicial system is pretty fucked up.

So, *fingers crossed* I might be on a damned jury. That’s pretty exciting/worrisome.

The wheels really fell off for me later that day when (warning! Frank discussions of “Lady Parts” ahead!) my fucking period started. So, my body is officially a complete shithead. It’s just fucking with me for fun now. Let’s see, we’ll set a pretty normal, standard pattern here, then just when she starts to get her hopes up, BAM! We’ll crush the happiness right out of her. Why is it redneck 14 year olds get knocked up while using a condom and “pulling out” after a 2 minute drunken toss with their 21 year old redneck boyfriend, yet I’m foiled at every turn.
If I’d realized my body was this unwilling to procreate, shoot, I wouldn’t have even bothered with the pill all those years. Clearly, my uterus is a bitch, and my entire reproductive system is a complete waste of space. More than anything I’m pissed off at myself for actually holding out any hope. I’m usually better at setting myself up for the worst. Some people think that’s pretty cynical and that we should be HAPPY and OPTIMISTIC all the time. Those people are fucking stupid. Or they really relish feeling hurt, heartbroken and disappointed. Either way, they’re fuckers.

And if one more person gives me some glib “it’ll happen when it’s supposed to” or “it just takes a while, it’ll all be fine!” I may just have to kill them.
No, better yet, I’ll just return the favor when something shitty happens to them. “You got in a car accident, well these things are just meant to be!” “Your mom died? Well, you’ll get over it.” Yeah, sounds pretty rude and unhelpful doesn’t it? Remember that the next time you decide to belittle how I feel.

Can anyone tell that I’m bitchy? Really? You can? Huh, sucks for those who have to listen to me.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the week whining, doing nothing productive and eating junk food. If my body is going to fuck with me, Oh ho! I’ll show it how mean I can be. Double up the workouts, and increase the grease, salt and sugar intakes. Oh, and this weekend, I'm drinking more than any one human should, AND I'll be smoking. Take THAT, you asshole!