Brace Yourself

Today has been a rainbow maze of junk and love and clocks with noisy second hands and ice chunks and live lobsters, to name only a few things.

It never ceases to amaze me how a woman can feel, for example…spiritually fulfilled sitting in a crowd of 1,000 people listening to live Celtic music with her eyes closed while sitting on her hands because they’re cold…and two minutes later feel…utterly defeated by the habitual tendency of growing impatient with ambiguity, sexual undertones, and projected disappointment over a friendship with someone who isn’t even there at the time.

I’ve had to take generic nighttime Sudafed for the last four nights in order to fall asleep (hacking cough is still persistent). I’ve been told this can cause instant, temporary depression. Oops. I’ve also been ovulating for the last four days. I’ve been told this can cause instant, temporary depression (back aches, irritability, pimples, fatigue – take your pick). Notice a theme here?

How can one microscopic egg drifting through a fallopian tube create such a life-sized roller coaster? Seriously folks, pound for pound, George W. Bush might be the “most powerful man on Earth” (I won’t say what else he is), but a female egg packs a lot more punch than that sack of potatoes ever could. Imagine if all the women in power, all over the world, were ovulating at the same time. And we’re worried about nuclear war? Weapons of mass destruction? Global warming?

We need to start talking about the cycles of the moon!

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