April 02, 2003 @ 1:40 a.m.
Bad day. Plus, the return of the Intellibra!

Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Postscript is, it's a few days on and I've sorted myself out and am feeling a lot better about things. Except for Leah going away. That still sucks.

But I've discovered that compulsive masturbation seems to cure all my ills, or at least make me not think about them for a while, which is almost as good. It's hard to stress when you're coming down from a damn good orgasm with images of a sleazy nature still running through your mind.

I've had three a.m. bedtimes for the last two nights, and it looks like I'm about to pull another one. Tired, stress, mind not working as well as it could. I have an essay due tomorrow that is refusing to write itself or trickle from my brain out through my fingertips and onto the keyboard. It's more like I gotta extract it from the depths of my quagmire-like mind with a fork. You ever tried to extract something from a quagmire with a fork? It's no fucking cakewalk.

Had one of those days where shit just kept going wrong. I dropped my mobile phone twice, and I accidentally sent my glasses flying down the concrete steps of the library at Uni. Upshot is that both glasses and phone seem to be okay, but of course the fun didn't stop there. I spent most of the day editing an essay for my feminist literature class, to the point where I couldn't bear looking at it anymore. Printed it off and went up to Ye Olde English Department to hand it in. Caught the escalators up through Menzies, because I had a backpack full of textbooks and was feeling lazy. The English department is on the seventh floor. On the escalator halfway between the third and the fourth floor, I started hyperventilating. Badly. It only lasted a minute or two but it was utterly horrible. I've heard of panicking about essays, and we all know I'm a stresshead, but that's just fucking ridiculous. Essay is in now and I'm trying to forget about it and the fact that it's worth 40% of my total mark for the subject. Not that I think it's a bad essay. It's just that I haven't been in a class with my tutor before, so I don't know if she's a really hard marker and is going to pick the absolute shit through it. My dreams and chances of getting into Honours English seem to be hanging in precarious enough balance as it is, as far as I can see. Especially after my spectacularly crap performance across all subjects in second semester last year, but we don't talk about that.

But the fun didn't stop there either! After Uni I went to the supermarket with Deirdre and Eliza, and when we got back to my car I discovered that for the first time in my driving life, I'd locked my keys in. And for once, I didn't have the spare set on me either. Wheeeee! Hopefully I have had my share of "those days" for at least the next six months, because if this shit keeps happening, I swear I won't be held responsible for my actions. Although they may include compulsive masturbation.

I guess I don't have this kind of crap happen too often, which is good because I'd probably become more of a darkly muttering sociopath than I already am.

I had a bit of it a few weeks ago though. It was a really hot day, one of those stinking hot days my fellow Melbournians might remember from a couple of weeks back. I shucked my usual Uni-outfit choice of jeans and wore a skirt instead. BIG MISTAKE. Not only was it hot, but it was also really fucking windy. Most of the time I spent outside was consumed with battling the hem of my skirt, which kept deciding it wanted to flip up to my waist. It was especially bad because I spent a lot of time walking back and forth between the Menzies building and the Union building, which is the biggest fucking wind tunnel I've experienced in my life. Even on an otherwise calm day, it can still get quite blustery there. Most of the time I managed to keep my marauding skirt under control, but on one occasion it caught me by surprise and I wasn't so lucky. If you're a student at Monash Clayton and you happened to be hanging out on the Menzies lawn at about two p.m. approximately three weeks ago and saw a tall, bespectacled blonde chick, and then saw her knickers, it was probably me. Hi. Make sure you come up and introduce yourself next time my clothing situation takes a turn for the worse.

Later on in that regretfully memorable day, I was once again doing some innocent grocery shopping. It happened again as I was walking back to my car and thus didn't have a free hand to restore my modesty. Thank the sweet baby Jesus that Bonds make underwear with good elastic, because otherwise I would have had a bit of an Art Frahm moment. Especially as my groceries included a large bunch of celery.

In other news, the Intellibra has been on the loose again. Fucker was missing for a week and a half and I dread to think of what it's been up to. Finally found it today, lurking under a shirt on the armchair in my room, and I know I didn't put it there. It's now back in its rightful place, supporting my magnificent bosom. I'm a little bit worried about what it may be plotting, and telling my breasts. It already has quite a sway over them, what with supporting them and all, I'd hate to think it's planning to lead them astray (yes, I will one morning wake up and find myself flat as the girlies I was recently maligning on here, and then I'll be sorry!). I can see it happening, you know. I'm just one tit away from an Axis of Evil. A soft, warm, perky and sexually appealing Axis of Evil, but an Axis of Evil nonetheless.

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