Oh Bother…

Today was my first sugar crash in 3 days.  I know exactly what I did differently.  I’m having a really hard time with unsweetened almond butter, I just am.  It’s thick (doesn’t help that I got the crunchy kind) and not sweet at all.  Put that on heavy bread, and it makes me kind of gag a bit.  It tastes fine but it’s so heavy it makes me queasy.  I thought to myself, maybe, just maybe a dot of honey.  Tiny.  Size of a dime.  That’s it.  I mean, I put honey in my coffee without incident.

[Sigh]  Sugar crash started at around 8am and kicked in around 8:30.  It was probably made worse by the fact I was annoyed with something some asshat said to me.  Ate.  Didn’t feel better.  It sort of…dunno, didn’t wear off but it leveled out a little bit.  Then I got distracted by sewing garb and didn’t notice again til I got home and went “NOMS IN MY BELLY NOW!” and scared the cats.

No honey with sandwich.  Got it.

Sewing is coming along.  Garment is far from perfect and it’s a little on the tight side.  I’m not sure there’s going to be room for an under-tunic.  It’s too narrow.  I’m going to try it without a t-shirt on, just the tank-top bra and see if that helps.  I will be really disappointed if it doesn’t fit.  All that work for nadda.  It looks pretty good so far.  Office Mom says every project always has one aspect that keeps getting messed up.  For this it was the arms.  I think the armpits are too big, it looks a bit bunchy.  I made her laugh by saying I could just do model poses so no one will notice.  “S’up m’Lady?”  I’m really not getting picky with this.  I figure, there’s probably a whole legion of people who’ve never made their own garb, so at least I’m trying.  If there’s not enough room for an under tunic, I might see about using it to make a bag for me to carry things around in.  I have a small leather one at the mo’ but I’d like something with more give.  And a hat.  I need a hat for this summer, or I will die of heat stroke.

Laundry in the machine.  Food in stomach.  Too excited to nap.

Extra work to do tonight at the office, but I figure it’ll wait til after supper.  Then I need to come home and pack.  And not forget things.  And pack things for me to do at the event.  I might skip feast.  Might.  Depends.  I art afeared of being poisoned.

OH…what pissed me off this morning…

I really hate when people try to relate to me (the gay part) by telling me that they tried being a lesbian once when they got drunk and made out with another girl (straight/gay/bi/whatever).  Getting drunk and making out with a girl does not a lesbian make.  The fact that you did it while drunk tells me that you’re a cheap whore who’ll kiss anyone once her inhibitions are low enough.  I’m a lesbian because whether I’m sober or drunk, sleeping or awake, working or being lazy, dressed as a viking or dressed as a 21st century poverty struck radio DJ…I am always into girls.  Always.  I like to check them out, I like to smooch them, I like to sleep with them, I like to touch them and I like to do all of these things sober.

Frankly, if you have to get drunk to do anything with anyone you’ve got serious problems.  Even when I thought I was straight, I was sober when I fooled around with boys.  It’s so freakin’ disrespectful.  I remember the night I realized that Sulvento liked me more than just a friend.  We were going to the gay bar.  We were drinking.  We were flirting.  A lot.  But I didn’t kiss her.  And when we got back to her place, I slept on the fucking couch.  You know why?  Because I don’t want to be that drunken “Oops” for someone (or for them to wonder if that’s what they were to me), and I wanted her to know that I liked her not just in a “I’m drunk and horny” way, but that I liked her.  The next day, we were both sober and way shyer, I took all freakin’ morning to make my move.  But I did it.  Sober.

I’m not saying that if you’re in a relationship, both had a bit to drink and you fool around that it’s wrong but if you have to have a drink to sleep with someone…maybe you shouldn’t.

And I know, it’s like Cortejo told me this morning, so many other things to get pissed off about to waste my energy on this.  It frustrates me.  I don’t mind the “I kissed a girl once…” stories.  Those aren’t a big deal (and depending on who’s telling it, kind of hot).  But not, “I was so wasted I…”.


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