Today I am in a bad mood. Not sitting in a corner, snapping retorts, looking pouty sort of mood; but rather a terrifyingly uncensored I'm-going-to-say-exactly-what's-on-my-mind sort of mood.
This is bad, because honesty is bad. This is why manners were invented. Today I have no manners, just really fucking grumpy honesty. Today, every slight insult or possible vexation that I have encountered (real, or imagined) has been met with the jackboot of my unfettered id on 1000 decibles and Defcon 1. (Or is it 5? Damn you, professor Falcon!)
One such recipient being my best friend. She sent me a 'hilarious' (sic) Forward about the benefits of sex, ending with the caveat 'send this on to 10 people, or you'll become celibate and your genitals will rot away'.
In the spirit of open discourse, I admitted it made me laugh slightly less than Schindler's List, and was in fact far too late to save me from a life of rot and celibacy. In hindsight, considering last year's deathmatch with peritonitis, I should have cried 'was gangrene not enough, you heartless rotten cunt?'
Though to prevent myself from becoming even more celibate (and as genital-less as a Barbie doll) I decided it would be prudent to just forward the 10 copies on. So I sent them all to her. I hope she knows 100 people.
And of all the people I spoke to today, she's one of the few I actually like.
(Tartlet, does this make me the Empress of Darkness?)
