I was closing the toilet door when for a brief moment my brain registered the text burst on a comic cover of The Fantastic Four said “Hey, we all make mistakes.” The comic cover is one of sixty on a poster on the back of the door to look at when straining one out.Of course that’s not what it said. It actually said “Among us the Inhumans!” which is not sage advice but rather bigoted.I prefer the non-racist misfire to that sordid business.But we all do make mistakes.
Articles from Harrangue Man
I got grief swamped and trapped crying with the car door open. It took a good couple of minutes to break from the paralysis. I started walking then heard my name. It was a former colleague. We kvetched about the insane bullshit we faced and then I found out what she did now and that I could help.If helped re-focus; that the best way to defeat the past is to win the present. I can't think of a better fuck you than that.WFTW.
Tools and I don't get on, especially after onset of PTSD because in addition the hand shake is that you drop stuff when your fingers spring open.At school I was banned from tool use because I had to wear sneakers. I got sent to clean industrial sinks of industrial muck.So we don't get on and I get my partner to do that shit at home 'cos she can and has a knack for it.Today I had to bust my no tool use cherry and armed with a drill unscrewed multiple goods.
I have IBS and one of its weird tricks is to pump you to bursting with poo gas. Last night the noisome reek was so bad I sequestered from others to spare them the stink, my already life-distended tum even more so by a seeming cathedral of rectal gas fury.I took pain killers but they took an hour to kick in 'cause my belly was also full of cake and ice-cream.Yep, I ate that whilst afflicted with gas pain.
I felt my beard growing so it was time to pare back. The wound on my face got snagged a mo' and I winced at it snapped free off the skin shard.The beard was gray to mostly white; like a grizzled whale, the wound a barnacle on my face hull. It's an odd sensation; to detect the real-time perception of facial hair growth then an urgent need to get it off 'cause you didn't want to Dr.
It's not in the toilet itself but on the shelf above the cistern. It is black and rubber.I felt like Woody from Toy Story save my serpent menace was not colocated with footwear but excrement extraction.Stupid snake with its toilet overwatch.
All those words make sense apart but not together unless you're an Ozzer.But fanged it I did and it was then for the fourth time that day my phone fell out of my pocket save this occassion at the speed of an epic fang.My new phone case is robust and the phone was fine.
Occassional yelling is part of normal family life; being yelled at, yelling at and yelling together or apart.Except I have PTSD, depression, anxiety and OCPD with the former caused by a severe mental workplace injury.Logic me knows this is normal; animal me feels existential dread in that life is ultimately meaninglessness but the terror of no life is greater.That is deeply fucked. It is deeply fucked to experience normal life with the riddled cruelty of a savage injury.
Jack Black is totes m'goats.