I find it all the time hard. As if being underpaid, overworked and unappreciated isn't enough, one was pap smeared yesterday. I mean, bad enough I have an unreasonable and malicious reproductive system but to top it off I have to lie down and lie still and take it while somebody shafts me with an ice cold stainless steel implement of torture.
BDSM simply isn't my scene, so I wasn't at all happy about the situation.
I mean, fair go, mate. Still, nothing can beat the fatuous comment of the nurse at My First Pap Smear where upon, me being so tensed up they couldn't get near me, the nurse quipped she hoped I didn't carry on like this on my wedding night. Bloody oath, if any man tried to shove icy surgical steel up me whatsits without so much as a howdedoo, I know which of us would be lying down with a cold metal contraption rammed up where the sun don't shine, and it wouldn't be me. Which is perhaps why I remain unmarried - grin.
So I'm walking around like John Wayne today. I'm also counting out my panadols like Smarties. One for each arsehole co-worker, I should think (I have my 10am headache already). They're not even in yet and I already want to toss them out the (closed) window. I don't know which is worse: being expected to run the whole show myself, having to learn systems a mere pleb like myself wasn't privy to a mere couple weeks ago or the hard fact that I'm not being paid a cent for the extra hours and extra duties. Grumble. Grizzle.
The fact that I come home too tired to play with Alan or Billy or Ezra and his little friends, well, that really, really burns. I feel a sickie coming on. I feel the need to spend some quality time with Del Boy. We've not really had time to bond and he's probably developing abandonment complexes.
Besides, I tested positive for the flu, so it wouldn't be like I wasn't actually, legitmately sick. I just wouldn't be dragging my sorry feverish sneezy sleepy grumpy large white arse into work for a change.
Also, somewhat happily, I have a diagnosis. It's not moral weakness that has made me fat, ugly, stupid and cranky throughout my adult life after all, it's my ovaries. I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome - yay. Well, not yay, but at least I know it's a chemical imbalance, rather than a lack of personal growth and self control, etc that has been causing all my problems. So all those many, many people who have dissed me because I've been weird, fat and bad tempered, well, shame on you, you've been picking on someone with a disease, not a failing. You'll all be getting a letter from the Anti-Discrimination Board, you unforgiving bastards. :P
Well, in a perfect world they would be. Fined, too. Maybe even a public flogging. I could bring a picnic.
I mean, I still feel like shit, but at least I know it's not my fault and that there's precious little I can do about it - that's the suckky part. I feel lighter though, just knowing it's not me, it's my ovaries. Little buggers. I want to rip them out and fling them out the window, like bolos.
Without a Trace was definitely cut to fit again last night, as again I have screen caps of Eric Close in scenes I never saw. Sigh. Never mind, it'll be better on cable, I hope (and people wonder why I buy all my fave tv shows on dvd - because like I've only seen 75% of every episode, that's why). This was the infamous pedophile one that has been referenced in a good many fics. It wasn't bad, though Tony didn't really sell me on the anguish he was going through while bonding with the perp. As the relentlessly hetro EC9 editor cut most of young Fitzgerald, I really can't comment, but the scene at the house was cute. Somehow the boys have gone from not playing well together to playing too well. Damn, that all the good stuff is ending in EC9's rubbish bins. I assume, from reading episode guides, that there is actually some character development and background in the US version of the show? Because I wouldn't know about Martin's background if I hadn't read it, hell, I probably wouldn't even know his name.
I was still awake when Enterprise rolled on, and for once it didn't put me to sleep. I swear I've seen this episode before, but all Trek episodes are like that these days. The ol glowy higher beings pod people plot. It only really rated with me because Trip still amuses. Even Pod Trip.
Apparently Lord Roxton was up to shenanigans on Lost World but I really was mostly asleep by then. Just as well. One should have at least a couple of hours per night (I just couldn't sleep, my jaw didn't unclench until after midnight - are you sure I can't throw my co-workers out the window?).