had a lovely evening yesterday.  went out for a meal with hubby, then went to see Mike Harding.  good food, excellent company, and good, folky entertainment, even though i had heard at least 50% of the jokes before.  we still laughed.

and that’s all you’re getting.  not because i don’t want to share, simply because…  well…  why on earth would you care to hear the minutiae of a date between two people who’ve been together for over 15 years?  it’s not anything that will excite anyone who wasn’t there, and H and i already know all about it because, y’know, we *were* there…

…christ, i could murder a cigarette right now. 😦 …

…where was i?  oh, yes.  it was boringly domestic in that polished-by-the-passage-of-years kind of way, which brings a warm glow to things.  we talked about the new warehouse at H’s work (actually more interesting than it sounds), i told him about the colleague who had snapped, “Toni, will you shut up!” at me whilst i was clearing my desk before leaving work to meet him, and happily humming/whistling/singing (this woman is a miserable old trout who i believe i annoy intensely by simply being cheerful *evil grin*).  i had to ask the waitress for some ice after H whacked my knuckle a little too hard with a spoon.  …er…  this happens often in restaurants.  the cutlery-fencing, that is, not the injury.  i’m usually quicker than that, and unashamedly take advantage of his gentlemanly instincts (i.e. i’m a viscious little cow who cheats).

you can’t take us anywhere…

the joke i laughed hardest at during Mike Harding’s show was one involving a prostate examination and an errant surgical glove.  this should probably give you and insight into my sense of humour…


today, i had a brief visit from The Black Dog.  fucking universal checks and balances?  in this, The Cosmos can kiss my arse.  honestly, i had enough of this fucking shit as a teenager.  it’s not bad enough to medicate, but it’s bad enough to make me feel like the lowest fucking grease-stain left by the oiliest turd laid by the sleaziest politician that ever licked Peter Mandelsen’s diseased and soulless arse.

self-esteem?  what fucking self-esteem?

sample tweet/thought:

selfish, self-absorbed, vain, cowardly, shallow… Yep. Oh, and don’t forget lazy. #blackdog

though i *did* forgot to add self-indulgent.  because, you see, that’s exactly what it is.  as is this post.

(please ignore me, BTW – i just need to vent, for a moment)

i have nothing that merits the whining.  i’m extraordinarily lucky.  i live comfortably.  i don’t loathe my job – quite like it, actually.  i have a husband who loves me, despite the fact that i must be incredibly difficult to live with and find it stupidly easy to hurt him by accident (oops – forgot insensitive), yadda, yadda, yadda.  my only problem is, in fact, my own personality.  well yay me! :-/

ach, fuck it.

vent over. “Lippy Kids” by Elbow is on the radio, and the cat’s come to cuddle and purr at me.

life’s pretty good.