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Yea. So, I have a little depression thing going on. And I'm waiting for my entire head to grow back since my mother left. So there's that too.

It was just so bad. So stupidly, unnecessarily, time-wasting bad. Sometimes I think my mother is a pod person and she's really not my mom but some alien poison ivy from planet Passiva Aggresivia and her tanned outer shell is merely a ruse for the pulsing labyrinth of goopy invader guts with an evil plot to drive me insane by rearranging my furniture and not believing me when I say I did check. Yes. I did. I checked the whole cupboard. I don't have any. MOM! I don't have any!! YES, MOM. I CHECKED. I DID IT. I SAID I DID!!! Then she goes and checks herself. GAH.

I'd hoped I would be snapped out of this by now since I left her in the care of my (asshole) brother on Saturday and under his responsibility to get her to the airport the next day. A whole night early. But alas, I'm still in a funk. I knew my blues were sticking around when I burst into tears last night after a tile guy I was trying to hire said he was busy for 3 months. So lame. And I sent my mother flowers yesterday because she did do a shitload of work in my house and she called to thank me sounding all chipper and normal and What the Fucking Fuck is that? Sigh.

I suppose my plate is overflowing at the moment with the loss of Diane, work being a fucker and the never-ending list of shit to take care of so I can sell this damn house and move. And my doc wants me to do another thyroid cancer scan before we leave which I was supposed to be able to skip this year and it involves 6 weeks of shit and expense and me feeling like fucking hell so I'm none to happy about it AT ALL. That's all it took for my brain to snap into cancer-girl mode, which I hate.

And I'm all out of cookie dough!!!

At least Lost is starting up again tonight and a new season of Survivor begins tomorrow. Thank God. But those people at Lost had better resolve some shit or I'm going to declare that show officially shark jumped because damn, I don't like those "Others" and that beady-eyed leader and the mumbler chick fucking with Jack's head and did anyone else have a huge problem with Kate and Sawyer doing it in the bear cage? All I could think about was how out-of-control her bush must have been after 3 months on the island and he must have smelled like the ass of a road-killed raccoon covered in rotten eggs under a noon-day sun. Ew. Although I love it when he calls her freckles and some of his looks could melt the ice off my mother's ass. So, I'm still in.

Meanwhile I'll be working on shaking off these blues and thinking of something more interesting to write about than my poopy mood. Also, Blogger is being a constant dick and it's probably time to move this bitch to something better. Can anyone recommend another host? Let me know. Thanks!