I have plans today. That I should be leaving for about five minutes ago, but whilst showering I contemplated a comment that I have become a ‘psycho bitch.’ Trust me, this isn’t a new trait. I think it lies dormant in most people. For me it generally does not rear its ugly head often, and as I said it’s only about 5% of the time that it completely consumes my thoughts and then I go and type out some rant about what I’m feeling, and then I have done with it. The other 95% of the time I am a completely functioning member of society and a lovely, charismatic person to be around. 
 
Such is one of the many glories of having an anonymous* outlet through which to vent my frustrations. Otherwise I may unload all of this onto someone who could receive it any number of ways. I think general reception from my (mostly) male audience would be ‘Psycho Bitch’ so I’m glad I have an audience on which to test the validity or craziness of my thoughts. 
 
Whereas I’m usually like this: 

‘Hm, I wonder if he likes chocolate chip cookies or ginger nut cookies …’ 

Sometimes a nagging voice will be more like this: 

‘Cheating son of a …!!’ 

**

2023 Update/Edit:

*Far less anonymous now. A lot of people I didn’t know then know about this blog since meeting me long after I finished writing it and I just want to say I’m not 5% psycho bitch anymore. I’m a solid 7% now.

**This post went off the fuckin rails, but that’s why I’m going through and re-editing all of them because hindsight is a GIFT. As is the power of the internet. Thank fuck I didn’t take the book deal I was in negotiations with at this time because who knows what the hell would’ve been in print forever had I written a book back then.

Here’s what I deemed acceptable to keep out of the rest of what I’d written:

No context needed.